This might be the last simple place left in the NFL. A place where fans navigate tiny roads and pass signs for $10 parking on people’s front lawns, and they can walk to a stadium that doesn’t look like the Emirates Palace. And when they do visit they can find an RV in the middle of the parking lot where a Hall of Fame quarterback tailgates just like them – every game-day morning.
If this was anywhere else, Jim Kelly probably wouldn’t be standing here wearing his Buffalo Bills warm-up jacket, sleeves pulled up, pouring ketchup on a hot dog and punching visitors with a friendly fist to the chest that makes them feel as if they’ve been hit with a sack of bricks. Imagine, for instance, Roger Staubach plugging in a yellow, DeWalt boombox under a pullout awning and waving hello to the fans who walk by. But then Buffalo has always been a little different from everywhere else, a small town inside of a big city. A place where the city has struggled and victories have come sparingly, and when they do come they lead to only more heartache as in the four straight Super Bowls the Bills lost in the 1990s.
If this was anywhere else, Jim Kelly probably wouldn’t be standing here wearing his Buffalo Bills warm-up jacket, sleeves pulled up, pouring ketchup on a hot dog and punching visitors with a friendly fist to the chest that makes them feel as if they’ve been hit with a sack of bricks. Imagine, for instance, Roger Staubach plugging in a yellow, DeWalt boombox under a pullout awning and waving hello to the fans who walk by. But then Buffalo has always been a little different from everywhere else, a small town inside of a big city. A place where the city has struggled and victories have come sparingly, and when they do come they lead to only more heartache as in the four straight Super Bowls the Bills lost in the 1990s.
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