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A Holiday Moon Shot

12/18/2017

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The Outlander

On November 29th, 2010 I was doing what I typically do on Sundays late in the Bills season: running errands. On this day, that meant the laundromat down the road from my apartment in Barre, Vermont. The Bills were 2-8, the Steelers 7-3 and in my mind, there was far too much bullshit in my life to let the Bills be part of it. I’d graduated law school a year earlier, entering the workforce with literally the worst graduating year in post-war American history, and my situation at the time reflected that. My 650 foot studio apartment was above the homeowners, a batshit Christian family who homeschooled their kids, one of whom seemed almost certain to commit a mass murder one day. After bringing a girl home one night, I got a call forbidding that in the future (I was 25). I’d made up excuses when my parents would ask to visit, embarrassed that, to my dismay my hastily thought out plan of filling my Buick with my shit and driving 8 hours to take a $14 an hour job wasn’t working out as well as I’d hoped. I’d been the first in my family to go to college, fulfilled the plan I’d had since I was in middle school to get my law degree and in the months following that I’d had an engagement fall apart, found only a $10 an hour data entry position as firms implemented hiring freezes, been put in the hospital from a viral heart infection and shared the tiny apartment with my mom that I’d lived in since I was five. Completely out of ideas I’d hopped in the car to the most isolated place I could think of and only four months in it was becoming apparent that I’d miscalculated, again.

What I’m saying is, I really didn’t need the Bills in my life that day. But it was the laundromat and it was back when you could stream the radio feed for free so there I sat, listening to the game to drown out the sounds of the small child and large dog that also found themselves spending a Sunday afternoon in a miserably boring situation.

They’d been down 13-0 at the half but had made it 13-10 when they forced a turnover and suddenly the idea of missing a comeback upset win for laundry of all fucking things was unacceptable. Eschewing the second load, I headed to Mulligan’s Pub, my go-to since it was both walking distance from my place and the only joint in town with the NHL package. On the way I tossed on the authentic Poz jersey my ex had gotten me for my 24th birthday and eagerly sidled up to the bar where a gaggle of fans rooting for various teams had gathered at tables behind me to watch their games on the bank of televisions.

You probably know by now that this was the Stevie Johnson game. It’s something seared into my brain, staring absently at the television, thoughts skidding down the slipperiest of slopes, turning this Billsy moment in a lost season into something much larger, something personal and more sinister, an indictment of my decision making that went far beyond driving the half mile to the bar. I heard the voice from one of the tables behind me, a woman’s voice. I hadn’t said anything since the drop, hadn’t turned around, interacted or barely moved aside from taking pulls of my blue light.

“That guy in the Bills jersey looks so sad.”

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Yours Truly on the left, January 2nd, 2005

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A Party Within A Dream...Outlander's ode to the 05-06 Sabres

5/13/2016

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The Outlander

I didn’t think I’d write about this simply because I’ve talked about it so much, written so many words about it while only scratching the surface. I am acutely aware that all of this, the emotional connection I feel to it still today, the memories it elicits comes off both heavy handed and corny. I’m a cynic, antagonistic, dismissive about many things these days (off the top of my head: The election, fake jersey wearers, Rex Ryan, Pennsylvania drivers, my retirement prospects), but this, this was a time where everything- on the surface- seemed perfect. There will be greater moments ahead both in sports and in life but never have they both met in such a beautiful collision for me as what happened in spring 2006. This is that run as I experienced it, as much as I can remember and write without going down the many various tangential rabbit holes that would easily quadruple the size of this piece. If you wanna hear about any of the spinoffs sometime, @ me.

I usually find myself thinking about that playoff run around this time of year and I suppose since you took the time to click this, you do too. However, the ten year anniversary of the 05-06 team has come abruptly, quietly, though I suppose that’s what happens with a team that can’t even claim the most basic banner. They didn’t win their league, their conference, or even their division. Any and all metrics tell us that we should have a greater affinity for teams that came after- in 2007 and 2010 for instance- or before, in the case of 1999 or 1997. Still, The Buffalo News has practically made it a daily feature and even the Sabres twitter account has gotten on board despite the fact everyone in the marketing department thinks the organization was founded in 2010.

This summer is also my ten year college reunion. In what I am sure will shock all of you, none of my friends from Tonawanda High went away to college, and as an only child and the first one in the family to go to college, I felt rather overwhelmed, even at a tiny liberal arts school in Olean. I found some friends but felt awkward, out of place; I loved to drink so that alone got me through a year and a half until I studied abroad. When I returned my junior year, however, it was like a light bulb went off. The day I drove onto campus (drove! Finally!) I went to a party and met the girl that would dominate my memories of that Sabres run and years beyond. I made better and closer friends on campus, established a usual crew, house, bar, a place for the first time as a Bonnie.

Subsequently, after being one of dominant interests through high school, the Sabres found themselves relegated to the back of my mind in college. I’m not even sure we got MSG the first couple years I dormed there (to put it in perspective, I had an actual phone in my room freshman year because there weren’t any cell phone towers); abroad I could only follow the results from checking the TBN website each morning on campus. By junior year and the lockout, I just didn’t care. I was coming into my stride socially, getting acquainted with some of the lovely women on campus, basking in the Red Sox first World Series title in 86 years and for a month in there the Bills actually mattered! Come 2005 and the start of my Senior Year my biggest concerns were, in no particular order:
  1. Breakup with the Long Island girl I’d started dating spring semester for some inexplicable reason
  2. Get into law school at Penn State
  3. Eschew responsibility for fun at every opportunity

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Not a bad setting to take in the 05-06 season imo
​My first actual memory of that season was reading Sports Illustrated’s preview issue (Sabres 28th, Hurricanes 29th); my first firm memory of that season was in November. I was home from Bonas for the weekend and had brought a girl with me for the first time. She was the now-sophomore whom I had met at that party my first night back Junior year. Her age mattered little on this trip since there were numerous dive bars around Tonawanda that would serve a 19-year old without question, even more of which that would serve her accompanying usual customers such as my friends. For whatever reason we watched a game against the Senators in my grandparents' basement, several friends who I don’t exactly recall, me and her. As the Sabres took yet another early season shellacking at the hands of this apparent juggernaut (research tells me it was a 6-1 loss), I shook my head and commented to no one in particular “they are so fucking good.”

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Too Many Mooks - A 2014-15 Sabres Primer

11/11/2014

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The Commander

Greetings all!! I haven't blogged anything in a very long time, and for that I apologize. You see, when last we left me...I was happy, living in beautiful, warm California...enjoying life as much as I ever had. Funny thing that happens when you're with someone in the medical profession, they have to do internships and residencies for like 15 years after they pay six figures for the privilege of getting their degree. So you end up moving all over the country (and maybe even Canada!) while they're basically paid less than minimum wage and you never ever see them. This sort of vagabond lifestyle leads you to such exotic locales as my current home: Long Island. 

So here we are, cold, miserable, and I haven't left my house in like 6 days. What better time to fire up the old blogging URL and wax poetic about our favorite hockey team, the Sabres. 

First off, you need to go watch this or else the theme is going to be lost on you. If you haven't seen it, you can probably still follow along...but you should watch that video anyway because it's all sorts of brilliant and funny. 

And with that I present...



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The substance of things hoped for, and the evidence of things not seen.

10/31/2013

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The Commander

In scanning Twitter the other day, I had noticed a Tweet from a different blog with the title “Did Lindy Ruff deserve better from the Sabres?”. After choking back the rage and bile, I decided there was no possible way I could read this piece without wanting to drive carpet tacks into the head of my dick repeatedly. Since I’m fairly new here, I don’t think I’ve discussed the absolute disgust I have for Lindy Ruff at any sort of length. If you've followed me on Twitter for awhile, you won't be surprised by what's below - I loathe the man as much as the city insanely loved him. So let’s dig in a little.

First off, I don’t understand the thinking that this guy got a raw deal from the Sabres. Let’s be brutally honest, the guy should have been fired YEARS before last season. He was afforded multiple chances, with about 3 different sets of core players, 3 ownership groups, and 2 different sets of rules to get the job done here. I think that’s a fair shake. 15 years is about 8 times the lifespan of the average NHL coach. (I didn’t actually look this up, it’s a guesstimate) On what fucking planet isn’t this a “fair shake”?? There were plenty of times you could watch a Sabres game and see a listless, boring team going through the motions. Most every player who’s left here has had nothing kind to say about his coaching tactics, not to mention the guys who spoke up when he left here.

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Whatever it was, it's fallen apart. Suddenly. Drastically.

10/7/2013

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The Barrister

It's hard to avoid the feeling as a Bills fans that we're watching, year after year, a series of experiments that inevitably go wrong. Combinations of personnel and plays and intangibles amongst players and coaches, mixed together with a seeming haphazard flair, accompanied by varying hints of optimism from fans and franchise alike. Never a true sense of "this is what it takes to win and we have it, let's all have fun," but instead "we think this might be the one, please trust us?" Frustration levels vary depending on what kind of fan you want to be from week to week or minute to minute, and what kind of team we happen to have in front of us every Sunday. 

The Flutie years had fan optimism high, but franchise confidence was suddenly low and we got something else instead. Losman had fans and franchise on more similar planes, followed by Edwards and other guys I don't care to remember, and then a Harvard guy who looked to our layman eyes like a shit sandwich but who had been molded into a winner, briefly, by a coach with a charming, deceptive drawl.

We're duped because it's nearly impossible for us couch-dwellers, and seemingly for the "football guys" employed by Ralph "wears a gold-plated diaper" Wilson, to know the difference between Kurt Warner and Ryan Fitzpatrick until one of them is winning a goddamned Super Bowl. We're duped because believing we have Warner and not Fitz is a hell of a lot more fun than the other way around.

And then there is this season, with this coach and this QB, and it was both different and the same for each of us watching it all unfold. The franchise seemed both progressive and consistent with it's prior, terrible versions... a new system with new rules and new aggression; an old system with phenomenal players left behind, uncompensated by the franchise they've sweat and bled for, with fans like myself bounding across social media, rationalizing the decision to let uncommon Buffalo Bills talent walk away from the Sisyphean challenge of getting this fucking thing right.

And then there is this season, with the promises and renewed sense of purpose; the stunning efforts and sharp growing pains; the rising legend of new powers on defense; the quarterback who has left games with more of our love and hope, the benefit of the doubt held firmly in his poised grasp. 

And then there is this season, with growing hope following a great win against Baltimore, followed suddenly and cruelly by a moment so predictable, we couldn't believe it...

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Dude, I Just Sharted. Now Let's Go. - A Terrible Week 1 Bills/Pats Recap

9/9/2013

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The Barrister


That was... less than it could have been.

That's all I can manage to say about this team, except we all know that's not true because I'm about to ramble on for a thousand words or so and it's going to be great.
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Not pictured: area over Marrone's head where he is currently residing.
In past years at the Deeg, Yachtsman took care of these recaps. They were fucking great. One of my favorites was when the Bills beat the Pats in 2011. It was a booze-fueled moment of jubilation.

This is not that post. 


On to the recap of sadness!!!

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"I love this plan! I'm excited to be a part of it! Let's do it!" - Patriots/Bills - Week 1

9/6/2013

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During the 2013 Buffalo Bills season, the Scizz will be writing weekly game previews that will ruin your entire weekend. The last two seasons saw him using quotes from The Big Lebowski and Super Troopers to convey his feelings for this crapfire of a franchise. This year he'll be choosing quotes from many of his favorite films to get the point across. As always, it's 25% football, 70% useless garbage, and 5% luchador gambling picks. Here we go.....
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The Scizz

First and foremost, go here and buy a shirt for #SupportSally if you haven't already. In fact, even if you have go buy another one. The support we have seen from Buffalo and the blog/twitter/facebook universe has been incredible. Keep it up. On to the foosball.

Where do you even begin with this offseason? My mood towards this team has changed so many times I can't even remember if I was excited after the draft or was certain of a 2 - 14 season. The good? The Bills are rid of the football herpes known as Chan Gailey & Buddy Nix. They hired young, motivated coaches in Doug Marrone, Nate Hackett, and Mike Pettine. They confidently reached at the draft for a future QB1 in E.J. Manuel. The bad? Potential shutdown corner Stephon Gilmore is out 6-8 weeks for an already thin CB squad, Jarius Byrd appears to hate the idea of being anywhere near Buffalo, and although E.J. Manuel appears to be healthy, the QB situation over the last couple weeks looks like something out of shitty ABC family T.V. movie. 

But you know what? I'm sitting on the Yachtsman's couch in Buffalo right now, we're going to the game Sunday, and dammit all football is back. So similar to what my fictional idol Peter Venkman says in a time of fear, uncertainty, and almost certain death, "I love this team! I'm excited to be a fan! Let's do it!" 

After the jump I ramble some more

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Hockey & Friends & Drinking & Stuff is Fun

3/7/2013

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Now you're in Neeeeeewark! These streets have an 8 pm cuuuurfew, I hope you know kuuung-fu!
The Scizz

The Buffalo Sabres play in New Jersey tonight. I live in Hoboken, New Jersey, only a short path train ride away. Therefore, I am going to watch the Buffalo Sabres in New Jersey tonight. Simple, right?

Not really. I almost wasn't going. In fact, with my contempt towards the Buffalo Sabres' players and organization at an all-time high I had decided that unless a friend of mine could hook me up with with free or heavily discounted tickets, then I was going to sit this one out. The reasoning was simple really; I'm attempting to horde all the money I can for my wedding and honeymoon in June, I'm coming up on a huge moment in my personal career that has me working crazy long hours, and to be completely honest, this team gives me weekly aneurysms, so why should I give a shit?

Then a couple of days ago a little voice inside my head said, "Hey, you miserable sonuvabitch! You like HOCKEY! You love it actually! GO! You know what else? You love hanging out with your friends AND watching hockey! You know what else you like even more? Hanging out with your friends, drinking heavily on a weeknight, AAAAAAAAND WATCHING HOCKEY!!!!"

The voice inside my head (let's call him Bookshelf Jr.) was totally accurate in his assumptions. I DO love all those things! (Except this Frank guy that's coming, I really hate him) So I went on ticketmaster, found a seat near the rest of the DGWU crew (& friends), ponied up a measly $33 bucks and now I'll be on my way to what will be a fun-filled night with old friends, new friends, and probably a couple of other randos I barely know (and again, Frank).

What's my point? Well besides being excited for tonight and not feeling motivated at work whatsoever, that's a given. I believe it would be to just enjoy sports as best you can even though #becauseitsbuffalo is a constant hashtag in our lives of sporting sadness (which coincidentally will be the name of the MLS expansion franchise in Buffalo). I have found myself miserable from sports way too often the last few years, and rightfully so, but sometimes you have to push through all that shit and just have fun because that's the point, isn't it? I like to think it is. I also hope this rambling stream of consciousness makes sense.

So bring it on Devils fans, bring it on Sabres under-achievers, and bring it on 5 am Friday wake-up because I'm ready for anything you throw at me!

Wait....Enroth is starting? Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.
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eight scotches deep
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