Saturday, October 9, 2010

A Beast in the Hand is Worth...



The Buffalo Bills have been my team since before I can remember. There are pictures of me wearing Bills hats, jackets, and jerseys from my earliest childhood. Growing up in a football town is like growing up in church; At some point, you really commit yourself to it, you take these rituals and songs from the Sunday meetings, and you make them your own. It isn't just a meaningless thing that people do... it means something. You don't just say you're part of the congregation... you are one of them, and you have faith.

Or else you don't. You may realize that its all bullshit and a way for people who only work one day a week to fleece your ignorant neighbors and family members out of their hard earned money. And to make matters worse, your friends and family thank them for it. You are too smart to fall into that trap and rather than be rewarded for your figuring it out, you are excluded from the rituals. You spend your lonely Sundays doing the New York Times Crossword and mowing the grass, alone.

Or so I imagine. After all, I'm in the first group and so are you. My conversion experience happened when I was 9 years old. In 1989 the Buffalo Bills won their division and outplayed Bernie Kosar's Browns in the divisional playoff game. At the end of the game Jim Kelly threw the game winning ball to Ronnie Harmon in the corner of the end zone where Harmon dropped it. Ronnie Harmon, it was later rumored, was involved with a notorious bookmaker (his agent, actually) and was either payed to throw the game or was threatened. Either way, the image of “The Drop” is indelibly printed on my mind's eye.

Its kind of a funny conversion experience, losing a game, but its my first memory of really caring about the outcome of the game. Understanding what it would take to win. Knowing what it would mean to win, how it would feel.

The spark of faith in the Bills was fanned into a roaring flame over the next several years as the Buffalo made it to the Super Bowl an unprecedented 4 consecutive times. The offensive line was made up of perennial pro bowlers, in fact the whole offense was. The defense was full of superstars and characters, Bruce Smith, Cornelius Bennett, Daryl Tally. The Bills were impossible not to love.

Needless to say, since then we've experienced some very dark times. As fans we've suffered through these dark times, telling pale stories of what once was, or what could have been if... No quarterback, no offensive line, no pass rush, no run defense. Each coach we fire goes on to unparalleled success. Gregg Williams who lead the Bills to a 17-31 record, enjoy your Superbowl ring. Ronnie Harmon, enjoy yours too. Wade Phillips, you can go to hell.

We faithful are strong in spirit, a ten year absence from the playoffs cannot deter our indomitable belief. One day, we know, they will rise again. We tell the old stories to bear each other up in the hard times. Remember the apostle Thurman in these trying times, the apostle Reed.

However, this week my faith was tested in a way that it never has been before. Marshawn Lynch was traded to the Seahawks for a draft pick, and a 4th round pick at that.

Our beleaguered congregation has suffered ever since GM Bill Polian was fired. Yes, we fired Bill Polian, the man who built the Bills into the most powerful offensive force in the history of football, because he didn't get along with the Bill's accountant. THAT IS TRUE! For the past 10 years, he's been evaluating college talent for a team that was a joke for the entirety of Buffalo's golden years, the Colts. Even among the devout amongst us, there are many that question the value of this accountant.

Since that time, Buffalo has picked a stunning array of nice guys that can not play football. They took Aaron Maybin over Brian Orakpo. To date, Maybin has recorded, I believe, something on the order of zero sacks and four tackles... and that's a lifetime total. They traded up to the first round to get their hands on Big Big John McCargo, a lineman that they eventually traded to Tony Dungy's Colts for a can of white sideline paint. Just days later, Dungy sent McCargo home on a very large jet and collected his spraypaint.

The point is, a draft pick is absolutely nothing in the hands of the Buffalo Bills. They went into this draft needing literally EVERY SINGLE POSITION with the exception of running back. And with the 9th overall pick of the draft, they chose CJ Spiller. Which would have been a good pick for EVERY SINGLE OTHER TEAM in the league. The only decent quarterback we've had was a 53 year old midget named Flutie, who took over from the abominable Robb Johnson, won every game he played to sneak us into a playoff game where he was benched so that Johnson could through the game for us.

Now I am truly conflicted. We are in our 12th consecutive “building year,” and my favorite player on the team, my favorite player in the NFL, was traded away. I feel like I've been dumped. I walk around thinking “I miss Marshawn” and in sepia-colored hues I replay over and over in my mind his rugged running style, his Mayne Event interview. A tear comes to my eyes while I think of my fellow congregants, holding BEAST MODE signs at the games. Sure, there have been rumors that he'd be traded, but I refused to believe them. If they trade Lynch, I said, they'll be trading my allegiance with him. When you've got a powerful runner like Lynch, and two squirrely little scat backs like Freddie Jackson and CJ Spiller, who would decide to get rid of the guy that can break through a tackle, that can run over a guy, that can catch any ball, that can win a whole city over his first year on the team?

The Bills would.


2 comments:

Neil said...

Nice. You will make a fine addition to our motley crew of retards and degenerates. Welcome. Let us feast on the bones of the wicked together.

Raven Mack said...

amazing first piece man. how come we never talked football at work? is it because you have to keep it on the down-low or dan bean will ream you eternally?