shelby
11-30-2010, 05:52 PM
I had been thinking about this silently for a couple weeks. “Have we broken the curse of having the one gut-wrenching, vomit-inducing loss this year? Was that solely a Dick Jauron phenomenon?”
And then this Steelers game happened.
We now know that this painful occurrence is like Hanukkah. You have a general idea of when it’ll happen, but you’re not sure of the exact dates. I guess the only positive is at least this year, it wasn’t a national game like the last 3 had been. Progress in incredibly small bite sized portions. I guess I’ll take it.
I don’t even know where to start. For me, it was less about the actual plays. It was the camaraderie that was supposed to happen. I had a group of 7 Bills fans friends coming to this game with me. After the Bengals exuberance, I had so much expectations for this game. Erik, Paris, Pam, Pam’s sister, Ali, Rohit and of course, the weak link, Mark were there.
How weak is the weak link? Literally as Mark’s foot touched down inside the first bar we were in, the Steelers scored a touchdown. It was painful and frustrating on a lot of different levels. On the first level, we were not at a Bills bar. The bartender of the Bills bar accidentally slept in. Ironic because that is pretty much what the Bills did for a second straight week. Sleep in and miss the first quarter of play.
We sat in the first bar with other Bills fans watching a tube television with color settings so bad that the Bills throw backs actually looked Dolphin teal. Of course that is an insult of the highest magnitude. We also didn’t get any sound to the game either. This was torture. Our group of 10 or so Bills fans sat there like dogs waiting to get adopted, after every play people looked out the window towards Kelly’s to see if it opened. Finally, we saw the bartender sprinting to the bar, unlocking the gate and opening the front doors.
We flocked out. Paris, the optimist, said, “nice, we’ll reverse the mojo at Kelly’s.” At Kelly’s we settled in. I kept calling Mark the weak link; he kept defending against it. I silently was angry at the fact that here I had some of my good friends out for a game, and the Bills looked like they were going to get shut out. I wanted to be joyous with my large group. This was so frustrating that they Bills couldn’t comply and provide a good game.
And as they’ve been doing since the Bye week, the game changed in the second half. We were back in this thing. It was exciting. Everyone was cheering and after the field goal with 2 seconds to go, it felt like everything was right in this world.
The tragic tale in this isn’t the Johnson drop. It’s the whole scene at Kelly’s. As we are about to start overtime, I am literally calling out what the victory plan is: “I’m running out this door when they win. I want chasers! I WANT CHASERS!” Mark giddily seemed to feel a win was imminent as well. “YES!” This had the energy of a fired up pep talk. Then Mark chimed in, “Wait, which way are you going to go once you are out the doors?” The excited pep talk died down to a very matter-of-fact office conversation: “I’m thinking left, and then another left at the light.” “Ok, I’m behind you. How far do you think we’re running for?” “I’m not sure exactly, until someone catches me or until I am gassed. So that being said, about half a block. Top!” “Done.” BREAK!
On the now infamous Steve Johnson drop, at the second the play action started, the entire bar knew that this was the play for the win. Like a gigantic wave, everyone gasped. The energy of the wave was building. When the camera panned over to show how wide open Johnson was, the wave broke. People were cheering. I exploded out off the floor. It was one of the highest verticals ever for me. I had to be somewhere between 5-6 inches off the ground. As I landed, I started my sprint for the door. I took off like a bullet. But something was holding me back.
It was Mark’s arm was around my neck. My legs were still driving, but I wasn’t moving. I was stuck running in place like Shaggy from Scooby Doo. Mark starts saying, “He dropped it. He dropped it.” It was in that hushed, incredibly sad tone that Walter Cronkite delivered the news that JFK was dead. That’s the audio metaphor. The visual metaphor was straight out of “Boyz n the Hood” where Cuba Gooding Jr’s pal, Ricky, gets shot.
For one short moment, I was gloriously running to make it out of the bar with the best win in years. Seconds later, in slow motion, I was gunned down senselessly for assuming that a ball thrown in your cradled arms was an automatic touchdown. It was equally as devastating as the scene from the movie. The movie was essentially saying, “as tragic as Ricky getting gunned down was, that happens so everyday in the hood. That’s the crime.” As a Bills fan, as tragic as the drop was, that happens so often in Bills land. That’s the crime. The only difference between the movie and Bills fandom, is that people are trying to get out of the hood. I’m happily entrenched in Bills fandom.
read more... (http://www.billszone.com/mtlog/archives/2010/11/30/steelers_at_bills_superstition.php)
And then this Steelers game happened.
We now know that this painful occurrence is like Hanukkah. You have a general idea of when it’ll happen, but you’re not sure of the exact dates. I guess the only positive is at least this year, it wasn’t a national game like the last 3 had been. Progress in incredibly small bite sized portions. I guess I’ll take it.
I don’t even know where to start. For me, it was less about the actual plays. It was the camaraderie that was supposed to happen. I had a group of 7 Bills fans friends coming to this game with me. After the Bengals exuberance, I had so much expectations for this game. Erik, Paris, Pam, Pam’s sister, Ali, Rohit and of course, the weak link, Mark were there.
How weak is the weak link? Literally as Mark’s foot touched down inside the first bar we were in, the Steelers scored a touchdown. It was painful and frustrating on a lot of different levels. On the first level, we were not at a Bills bar. The bartender of the Bills bar accidentally slept in. Ironic because that is pretty much what the Bills did for a second straight week. Sleep in and miss the first quarter of play.
We sat in the first bar with other Bills fans watching a tube television with color settings so bad that the Bills throw backs actually looked Dolphin teal. Of course that is an insult of the highest magnitude. We also didn’t get any sound to the game either. This was torture. Our group of 10 or so Bills fans sat there like dogs waiting to get adopted, after every play people looked out the window towards Kelly’s to see if it opened. Finally, we saw the bartender sprinting to the bar, unlocking the gate and opening the front doors.
We flocked out. Paris, the optimist, said, “nice, we’ll reverse the mojo at Kelly’s.” At Kelly’s we settled in. I kept calling Mark the weak link; he kept defending against it. I silently was angry at the fact that here I had some of my good friends out for a game, and the Bills looked like they were going to get shut out. I wanted to be joyous with my large group. This was so frustrating that they Bills couldn’t comply and provide a good game.
And as they’ve been doing since the Bye week, the game changed in the second half. We were back in this thing. It was exciting. Everyone was cheering and after the field goal with 2 seconds to go, it felt like everything was right in this world.
The tragic tale in this isn’t the Johnson drop. It’s the whole scene at Kelly’s. As we are about to start overtime, I am literally calling out what the victory plan is: “I’m running out this door when they win. I want chasers! I WANT CHASERS!” Mark giddily seemed to feel a win was imminent as well. “YES!” This had the energy of a fired up pep talk. Then Mark chimed in, “Wait, which way are you going to go once you are out the doors?” The excited pep talk died down to a very matter-of-fact office conversation: “I’m thinking left, and then another left at the light.” “Ok, I’m behind you. How far do you think we’re running for?” “I’m not sure exactly, until someone catches me or until I am gassed. So that being said, about half a block. Top!” “Done.” BREAK!
On the now infamous Steve Johnson drop, at the second the play action started, the entire bar knew that this was the play for the win. Like a gigantic wave, everyone gasped. The energy of the wave was building. When the camera panned over to show how wide open Johnson was, the wave broke. People were cheering. I exploded out off the floor. It was one of the highest verticals ever for me. I had to be somewhere between 5-6 inches off the ground. As I landed, I started my sprint for the door. I took off like a bullet. But something was holding me back.
It was Mark’s arm was around my neck. My legs were still driving, but I wasn’t moving. I was stuck running in place like Shaggy from Scooby Doo. Mark starts saying, “He dropped it. He dropped it.” It was in that hushed, incredibly sad tone that Walter Cronkite delivered the news that JFK was dead. That’s the audio metaphor. The visual metaphor was straight out of “Boyz n the Hood” where Cuba Gooding Jr’s pal, Ricky, gets shot.
For one short moment, I was gloriously running to make it out of the bar with the best win in years. Seconds later, in slow motion, I was gunned down senselessly for assuming that a ball thrown in your cradled arms was an automatic touchdown. It was equally as devastating as the scene from the movie. The movie was essentially saying, “as tragic as Ricky getting gunned down was, that happens so everyday in the hood. That’s the crime.” As a Bills fan, as tragic as the drop was, that happens so often in Bills land. That’s the crime. The only difference between the movie and Bills fandom, is that people are trying to get out of the hood. I’m happily entrenched in Bills fandom.
read more... (http://www.billszone.com/mtlog/archives/2010/11/30/steelers_at_bills_superstition.php)