I knew going into it that the Bills home opener was going to be very emotional. It was obvious from the outset: the alumni game, featuring a speech from a cancer-free Jim Kelly and newly-elected Hall of Famer Andre Reed leading the team out of the tunnel, Mr. Wilsons enshrinement in gold on the Wall of Fame, the pending purchase of the team by The Pegulas, the unveiling of the newly remodeled Ralph, and an old rival in town battling for control of the AFC East. It was the perfect conditions for a collective catharsis, and, regardless of your opinions on professional sports, it was a watershed moment in the revitalization of Buffalo. It was a chance to remember all those games we watched as a family, times we cheered with loved ones who are no longer with us, days we felt a part of something bigger than 70,000 drunks watching grown men getting paid millions of dollars to play a game in Orchard Park. This was meant to be a day wed look back on years from now as a symbol of our citys perseverance, and, ultimately, resurgence. In the week leading up to the game, I had planned on all this, looking forward to sharing in the moment as the best fans in the world finally got something deserving of their devotion. What I wasnt prepared for, as Gayle and I arrived at the gates, was for our $200 tickets to be missing! Gayle is the most responsible person I know (thats why our marriage works!), so as I casually asked her to check our tickets to see which gate we should enter, I can only imagine the look on my face when her reply finally navigated the maze of my morning-long tailgate preparations and arrived at understanding. Utter disbelief. Confusion. Bewilderment. These words come close. Ok, maybe they dont. We raced to our nearest game officials, asking them for advice. Someone else had bought the tickets, so we had no proof of purchase to collect them at will call. We had absolutely no recourse but to let the day carry us, knowing, somehow, that it couldnt end like this. I remember walking back to the car and seeing some friends (who must have assumed from the look on my face that we got kicked out) and not being able to even stomach explaining things to them. As we trudged back to our car to make a futile search for our tickets, knowing full well that they werent there, I had a brief moment of resignation. Fate was cruel, and I could only hope that we would make it home in time for kickoff. Just then, Gayle remembered that she had dropped her phone half an hour earlier while she was in a port-o-potty, and decided to check there. She explained her way to the front of the line, and until my dying day, I will never forget the exultation I felt as she ran out of the bathroom wildly raising our now-soggy tickets above her head! Fans all around us realized what had happened and cheered as we embraced, sobbing, in the middle of the Ralph parking lot. Going on to join the 12th man in cheering the Bills to victory seemed like it had been written - Im tearing up just thinking about it. Yes, I am perfectly comfortable admitting that 53 men in tights have the unparalleled ability to make me sob like a schoolgirl. If youve ever been a part of this thing we call the #BillsMafia, you understand. If not, theres plenty of room left for you on the bandwagon. Ive been told we circle them like no other. #IdFML #BILLiever4Life #TWMF
Posted on: Mon, 15 Sep 2014 15:46:26 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015