Today was an emotional roller-coster, at best. The Bills looked like complete dog s**t at times, and at other times looked like the dominating team they've been for the past 7 weeks.
It all started off great, 3 and out, D dominating, Squealers punting to us from deep in their own end. Then, it began. Why Nate? Why? Why do you carry the football like it's a loaf of bread? Why did you have to fumble that? Why? Fortunately, Pittsburgh had their 8th string in already, and we held them to a FG.
I forget what happened between that time and halftime, I blacked out, non-bigoted up with a rope around my neck and my mouth on the tail pipe of my truck. I guess I should've turned the truck on.
The best moment of the day came when I was going to store and my Dad called my cell phone to tell me that the Bills had just returned an INT for a TD and they were WINNING 17-16. I felt a bit better, but I still had a bad feeling in my stomach.
When I got back from the store, I saw the Bills had driven the ball from their 1 yard line to inside the 20 of Pittsburgh. Eating up a good 8 minutes in the process, the Bills looked on the verge of putting the Junior Squealers to bed. Then, it happened. 4th and 1, can't blame Mularkey for going for a FG, it would've, no, SHOULD'VE put us up by 4 points. 28 yard attempt, hell even I could make that. I went to take a dump.
After dropping the Cosby kids off at the pool, I come back and sit down and see that the score is still the same. Whaaaa? I rubbed my eyes. Shook my head. Felt my nuts to make sure they were still there. Whaaaaaa? Sure enough, Porky Pig missed the FG. Ok, OK, we are still winning, and it's the Steeler's 3rd string, we should win still.
Then, they drove down the field, kicked a FG (they have a kicker, we have a pig dressed up as a kicker) and took the lead. Jesus. Ok OK, it's only their THIRD STRING. We CAN NOT lose to this team.
Then, this. Drew back to pass, waiting, waiting, waiting, waiting, I got up took a piss, got a beer, lit a smoke, came back and he was still patting the ball. Finally, a Squealer hit him, he subsequently fumbled, some lucky guy in Yellow danced his way into the endzone. I screamed, yelled, smashed a chair, kicked my dog, spilled my beer and that's when I realized it was over. This wonderful run of wins, the playoff dreams, the waking up every Sunday to be excited to watch the Bills, the whole season, it was all OVER. I felt sick. The Bills scored a token TD against what was now random fans dressed up as football players out of the stands, but of course Porky couldn't execute an onside kick, and they lost. I felt like I was just dumped by my girlfriend. I felt like I was just kicked in the nuts by my best friend. I felt like someone stole my lunch. I felt horrible. Then, like every other self-respecting, macho football loving man, I ran to my room, shut the door and locked it, made sure nobody was around, and cried.
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