Bills! Bills! Bills!

"... staying... calm... staying... calm..."

I used to be a little hot head when I was kid. I would get so mad at some of the dumbest things. For example, do you remember the Buffalo Bills? I realize that this team still exists, but I'm talking about THE BUFFALO BILLS (circa. 1990-93).

How a young boy from Iowa would adopt this northeastern NFL team as his own is another story, but what you need to know now is that I thought this team was the freakin' bee's knees (just dripping with honey). Names like Jim Kelly, Thurman Thomas, Bruce Smith, and Andre Reed may mean nothing to you, but to me... these were the gods of the NFL gridiron. It was upon these men's shoulder pads that I placed my trust. They were my harbingers of happiness.

Look at 'em! Like red and blue clad knights!

You can imagine my delight when the Bills destroyed the AFC conference and walked into Super Bowl XXV ready to claim their title as NFL champions. When they lost by a last minute field goal to the New York Giants, I remember being filled with so much anger I just paced around wanting to hit things. (I'm pretty sure my mother was concerned for my mental stability.)

"The boy is crazy!"

1991 rolled around and the Bills made it to the Super Bowl again... only to lose to the Redskins. In 1992, they stormed back claiming that the third time was a charm... only to be pulverized by the stupid Dallas Cowboys 52-17. Then, somehow, in 1993, the Bills pulled together what morale they had left and once again made it to the Super Bowl... to once again lose to the Cowboys.

"You're killing me, Smalls!"

See! Don't you want to punch him?

Each loss was punishing, but the 4th Super Bowl loss was more than I could bear. I desperately wanted to punch Emmitt Smith (the Cowboys running back and probably one of the nicest guys to ever play the game) in the face and blame him for all my pain and suffering. He was the devil!

Yep... I had issues

I felt betrayed. This had to be a conspiracy. Jim Kelly had failed me. Thurman Thomas didn't come through. Bruce Smith might as well have stayed home. And don't get me started on Andre Reed! They broke my heart, and the Dallas Cowboys still make me cringe. I was so disheartened that I never watched a Buffalo Bills game again... seriously!

Now, was all of this a bit extreme? Absolutely! I was a stupid kid who placed so much of his identity and hope for happiness on the outcome of an unpredictable game that I was crushed. The Bills played their best, but not good enough to win that day.

The funny thing is that if the Bills had won, my life would be no different. I may have been happy for a day or two and felt affirmed in my choice of loyalties, but nothing in my life that matters would have actually changed for the better. I realize that this entry was a bit random, but it seemed like a good time of year to tell a story about placing one's hopes and dreams on a team full of fallible humans... you know... because it's football season.

"Hey, Normy! I think Greg's trying to say something without sayin' it."
"Heh! Heh! Heh!"