A true professional football-watcher doesn’t even bother to issue excuses for watching four games in two days. But they’re fun to invent during commercial breaks. It beats learning what’s happening in a kingdom dedicated to Bud Light.
I had to reside in a blanket fort all weekend due to my unfamiliarity with snow. Buffalo fans are used to seeing grass in winter and the hometown football side making the playoffs. At least this sabbatical gives us time to study what makes other franchises competent. Tweet your observations to the Bills so they can analyze the data we’ve helpfully complied. Ending the drought after a year is all the thanks we need.
Football often illustrates the difference between what should and does happen if you think it doesn’t teach life lessons. Bitterly fume about who’s gone and what’s not here. Any dedicated sports fan would do the same. I don’t even notice the eye twitch anymore.
The Bon Jovi of franchises continues to ruin the playlist. It’s fitting the horrific band’s namesake spent the Patriots latest win sitting next to Foxboro’s Emperor Palpatine. Jon has somehow been successful for decades despite the product’s loathsomeness, which makes him the perfect sellout Patriots fan.
Knowing Tom Brady will be eventually be honored with his profession’s top honor like Bon Jovi regrettably was in his makes me want to avoid all of Ohio’s Halls of Fame. An agonizing scenario is bad enough without playing out for decades. I don’t need to see the Patriots advance any more than I need to hear what high school girls wearing jean jackets in 1988 consider metal.
Mocking those who needed help to reach the tournament takes the sting out of remaining stationary. Stephon Gilmore is really skilled at looking back for someone to blame when he forgets to cover. Give him credit for an interception deep into a blowout with about 19 guys dropped into coverage. If Tom Brady is a system quarterback, Gilmore is a systemic cornerback. A middling competitor joining a proven secondary is like Pinky Tuscadero taking credit for the success of Happy Days.
Jilted fans eternally loathe players who left acrimoniously. Treat them like anyone else who broke your heart. Stay ticked about the prom. As for an ingrate who didn’t appreciate his corsage, Jordan Matthews might have found Erie County more exciting if he had performed his job like he did for one moment versus the Saints.
Oscillate from anger to regret if you feel pouty. Missing the postseason naturally leads to wondering what could have been. Retain grudges indefinitely to maximize resentment. Take drafting the magnificently underwhelming Donte Whitner in 2006 instead of monolithic Haloti Ngata, the latter of whom was still clogging the line’s interior for Philadelphia this past Sunday. I hope Donte also watched while checking to make sure he didn’t turn off message notifications on his phone. Why else wouldn’t he hear from his agent?
Sneering at athletes who have changed shirt colors is part of coping with the decision to be born in Buffalo. The entirely healthy habit provides motivation while our favorite club feels left out. If you don’t enjoy cheering for stats because of your pretend statistics-based football team or totally legal wagers, at least despise those who skipped town.
I really cared about your roster for three hours. Temporarily cheering for an enemy’s enemy is how playoff outsiders try to create relevancy. There were only 30 fanbases cheering for that other Los Angeles team in its battle against Satan, as they’re still working on acquiring their own fans. I can’t believe I declared “Ich bin ein Charger.”
Alliances change quickly when you don’t have any participating team’s logo tattooed. Hopping aboard a new bandwagon is as easy as treachery during Risk. If you can’t betray high school friends without any girls around while wasting a Friday evening over root beer, what’s the point of learning board games?
I imagine I’m not the only Bills fan who went from hoping Frank Reich had a miraculous comeback as a coach in his pocket to becoming a Chiefs fan. Whatever Kansas City likes is my favorite. I’m dining at Arthur Bryant’s in my mind and also in my kitchen if some charitable Chiefs fan wants to FedEx me burnt ends in solidarity.
Can we make others jealous for a change? Let’s steal talent. I’m hoping someday fans of other clubs resent the players who escaped their outcast franchises to join the thriving Bills. Not everything has to be acrimonious: we can all cheer against the Maroon 5 halftime show, as they’re the onside kick restrictions of music.
Without a rooting interest, we can just enjoy football. It’s awful. I want to go back to cursing while every muscle contracts knowing that our region’s happiness relies on advancing in a most extreme elimination challenge for once. Life isn’t as fun as you’d think with an absence of tension. Being worried is part of the deal whether or not you agreed. Watching Nigel Bradham get flattened isn’t that fun considering he has a Super Bowl ring. The process better include irking those left out.
Editor’s Babble: Go Chiefs. Thanks to Anthony Bialy for his twisted sense of humor and contributions to our blog. You can find Anthony on Twitter @AnthonyBialy.