The Barrister et al.


Hey all. It's the day before Thanksgiving, we're all trying to concentrate on work while day dreaming about all the scotch we're going to drink tomorrow, and sports? Well, sports are sports which means they're terrible and awesome and disheartening and inspiring and all of it.

We did this last year - with some reasonable success, I guess? - and when I emailed the crew yesterday to gather the things for which our dreadful lot are thankful this year, well, I feared the thing I always fear when I ask for things from the rest of the guys... no response whatsoever. That these assholes responded at all is a pretty amazing thing, and I thank them for it. Thanks, given.

From The Scizz, our resident disproportionate responder:

This year I'm thankful for many things, but that doesn't seem very DGWU, so here is everything I hate. 

I hate James Dolan. I hate him so much it hurts. This arrogant cock had the nerve to say in an interview that it doesn't pay to be impatient in the NBA, meanwhile he has a constant revolving door of players, coaches, and front office staff because he cares more about his ego and his shitty blues band than he does actual success. Fuck him and his 70's porn bush beard.

I hate Darcy Regier. So in a way, I'm thankful he is gone I suppose. But mostly I want to focus on how much I hate his face and the fact that he made Ville Leino and Steve Ott a thing I have to deal with. Also, if you were against his firing I hate you too. And your family. I hate your family.

I hate anybody who still thinks Stevie Johnson is a #1 receiver in the NFL. He isn't and he won't be. He is a solid player who has the ability to put up big numbers, but lacks any kind of consistency. This is called a #2 receiver. Go Bob Woods.

I hate every single American who still watches American Idol, America's Got Talent, X-Factor, or The Voice. Bring back Perfect Strangers and Dinosaurs.

I hate Obese people on the subway. No, I will not scootch over for you to sit down. You obviously had seven Whoppers this morning for breakfast and deserve nothing but the inevitable heart attack headed your way.

I hate seriousness on Twitter. As much as I'd love to see 14 straight tweets about your thoughts on somehow still defending Obamacare or gun rights, I'd rather you go post on a yahoo message board with the rest of the lonely people who have nobody to talk to in real life.

Now that you probably all hate me, Happy Thanksgiving. I'm thankful for being shitfaced by 2pm and wolfing down a turkey sandwich with Wasabi mayo before passing out on the floor.


From The Outlander, who can basically fuck himself until the end of all creation for this:

For the second year in a row I'm the only one here who had a team win a championship. Now I would trade them back in a second for a championship we could all dance and shotgun beers over, but unfortunately it doesn't work like that so I'll have to enjoy it largely alone. I'm thankful for the 2013 Boston Red Sox.

Thanks to modern technology and the fact that my Center Ice package turned into two months of free extra innings, I was able to follow this team closer than I had followed them in previous seasons. There's no need to dissect what made the team successful, which signings were the most important, how big a difference a new manager can provide, that's the dry analysis that makes reading Jonah Keri feel like chewing on wet cardboard. What makes me so thankful for this Red Sox team is that they were able to wake me from the stupor of ambivalence and detached incredulity that watching my favorite two teams had become. Outside of a couple weeks in 2010 and 2011, that passion had disappeared; the moments where you watch with your chin buried in your hands, your fingers over your mouth, your heart pounding against your rib cage as if you just ran a 5k when in reality you haven't gotten up from your seat since you took a piss after the sixth inning. The moments where the unthinkable happens, where your heart leaps into your throat and you find yourself standing and screaming without remembering consciously leaving your seat. Think about when you last felt that way. Was it Drury's goal in 2007? Pominville's the year before? For all of us it has been too long, and in baseball, where the only percentages that define success are ones that always come with a majority of failure, those moments- when the ball flies off the bat toward Citgo sign, or the right field bullpen, or when the most feared hitter in baseball swings through a sinker with the tying run on third in the eighth inning- feel all that more unexpected. Add to the fact that no matter where our baseball, basketball, soccer and college teams call home, we will always find ourselves expecting the worst because we're from Buffalo and dammit that's just how it goes. 

Except when it doesn't.

This team was supposed to finish at the bottom of their division, not win it going away. It was predicted from August on that midnight was about to arrive, whether in a series at the Dodgers, a series at Yankee stadium, a series against the Tigers, and then later in the playoffs, certainly there. The prognosticators kept waiting, and even as a fan so did I, right up until they beat Scherzer, Verlander and Sanchez and found themselves returning to Fenway a game away from the World Series, that's when I finally new.

I was at a wedding North of Boston for that game, at some retreat in the woods outside Glochester. The type of retreat where the "couples" bedrooms had separate twin beds and three dozen flies on the inside of the windows. After drinking a remarkable amount of whiskey and ciders at the reception, followed by a considerable amount of craft beer at the afterparty bonfire, I found myself in that lovely area between half and fully in the bag. A bunch of us- some still clad in their suits, some hurriedly changed into hoodies and jeans- found ourselves in a small dining area watching the game on an old 16 inch screen. The Red Sox trailed 2-1 with two outs in the seventh, the bases loaded and one of the MANY guys underachieving in the series, Shane Victorino up. He had hit a huge grand slam in the 2008 NLCS for the Phillies; my friend who had just gotten married had the call as his ringtone our entire 3L year at Penn State. Now it was my time to watch the unthinkable.

I don't know why, maybe it was the location, being somewhere different, surrounded by friends, drunk as all hell, celebrating the feeling of something finally coming together, that YES, this WAS our year, but it reminded me of this.

Someday, my friends. We'll all suddenly remember what that feels like. And we'll dance, and all of us at the Deeg will be stuck being thankful for the same goddamn thing. I don't think we'll mind.



Awww, that's nice, buddy. But still, fuck you forever. Go Mets.


And now from The Wild Card, the new guy who is generally letting law school deny you all from his hot fire takes:

I'm thankful for an awful lot you guys. An AWFUL lot. An AWFUL LOT of Sabres players that miiiight just, fate permitting, be awful to get a #1 pick... but remember it's a fucking lottery now so even if we're the worst in history it's still pretty likely that the native Americans buried in the soil beneath the city of Buffalo who cursed our existence in exchange for a horrific genocide despite the initial warmth and caring they showed our forefathers in the fabled original Thanksgiving will prevent us from receiving that #1. 

Full circle guys. See how I did that?

Mmmm. Airport coffee. Mmmm. This girl next to me at the JetBlue hotspot. She seems really cute and nice. But her hair is covering most of her face from this angle. That must be why I think she's cute and nice. Either way, I'm thankful for her too, and the fact that she hasn't given me the stinkeye even though I took off my shoes to cool off my rancid feet. 100+ minutes on the train with a suitcase takes its toll folks. 

I'm thankful for the fact that I'm at JFK and not in any real danger of missing my flight. FACT: this is the first time that's happened since I moved to NYC.

I'm thankful for Geno Smith too. I don't care that he's looked good in a couple games. The NFL is about consistency. He hasn't shown it. Ton of talent/physical skills. Bad attitude. He's the perfect successor to Mark Sanchez. Though I doubt he'll ever buttfumble. Oh, I'm thankful for him and that too. Like, VERY thankful.

I'm thankful (I guess?) for this weather which convinced JetBlue to waive change fees for all flights today. Their generosity gave me about 3 hours extra sleep. 

I'm thankful for the ESPN Playoff Doo-Hickey (sp?) and for the word of the day: "permutation" because when you put them together you get: excitement; a headache; about 100 different ways for the Steelers to make the playoffs; and the Bills beating the Pats in week 17 cuz... ha, you know.

I'm thankful that my girlfriend got that job and has to stay home so I get to go to Buffalo myself and deal with my family's disappointment because they like her way better than me.

Oh, and naps. Naps on my grandmaw couch >> Turkey >> Cran sauce >> fresh Cran sauce >> my aunt making fun of my dad >> stuffing ... yeah it's way better than all that shit. No blankets grandma, please. What am I 4?


From the Apologist:

I'm thankful for Miley Cyrus and camels.

Welp. That got weird real fast. Thanks, Aps.

Let's all forget this happened... From The Commander:

Asking a Buffalo sports fan what they’re thankful for right now is a daunting task. Most of the stuff in my life that I’m thankful for has very little to do with sports right now, I have a decent job, a cool as fuck girlfriend, I don’t ever have to see snow or freezing temperatures, I can talk to my Xbox One and make it do shit, we have rad cats and dogs...my life is pretty fucking awesome! Which is why I can continue to tolerate Buffalo sports. If I didn’t have a bunch of other cool shit going on, I’d have slit my wrists or overdosed on pills for sure.

It’s been really fucking difficult as of late to be thankful about ANYTHING Sabres related. We were sold a promise of youth and watching kids learn at the NHL level, and now that’s pretty much up in smoke with most of the “blueprint” being sent back to the minor leagues. So let’s just scratch all Sabres shit from my list.

I’m pretty thankful for the Bills. I realize they don’t have a winning record and probably won’t make the playoffs again, but they’re selling me on the promise of their youth successfully. Plus the team itself is very likable. This is the first time I can remember being this invested in them as December rolls in. Usually by now my routine was to play hockey in the morning on Sundays, come home, shower, and pass out sleeping by the end of the first half. So let’s run the fucking table and get there already. I’m on board, I’m not going anywhere…let’s do this shit.  

That’s really it for me, I don’t do soccer, I’ve just started to get into the NBA (where my team, the Sacramento Kings, may as well be from Buffalo too), and baseball is for 75 year old white men.

However, I’m thankful that I have an outlet to express my fucking misery with a good group of assholes like myself here…as well as the other snarky motherfuckers on the Twitter. We’ll all get through this together. 

Enjoy your turkey or ham, enjoy spending time with your families and friends, enjoy massive amounts of booze, and have a Happy Thanksgiving!


From the long-silent Yachtsman!! ... 

I'm thankful for Matt Harvey electing to have Tommy John Surgery, Rye Whiskey, portable Marijuana vaporizers, Marcel Dareus' abuse of Geno Smith, and key bumps.


Par for the course, you handsome sonofabitch.

And finally, my thanks:

I am thankful for Kiko Alonso being amazing and always looking high. For the renewed chance that Jairus might stay in Buffalo after all.  For Patty Lafontaine investing himself in our city again. For Ralph Wilson being one more year closer to dying. For EJ Manuel for looking like the goods. For Doug Marrone for being a boost to this team, for being honest about his work, and for bringing in a defensive coordinator who has his squad playing like fucking beasts.  For the hope that persists in my heart as I watch my squads keep failing to get their shit together.  For the hope that sustains me and keeps this fun.

And, yeah, I am thankful for this place at this URL and the people who have made it great and written things here that have been simply amazing.  Holy shit, this website is a hilarious piece of my life. I started here two and a half years ago, have largely taken the reigns of keeping at least some trickle of content going while the OGs deal with the big shit going on in their lives, and have seen the Dear God Why Us? #becauseitsbuffalo theme get traction with all you dear readers who inexplicably come here to debrief the fun and misery of watching our teams.  We won a kind of nice award from a website we kind of hate, we've seen our traffic steadily increase since rebooting in 20011 and we've been lucky enough to have some of you say kind things and some really mean things about what we do here.

It is really goddamned great.

And now I've moved to the suburbs and I have a kid and I don't see the other guys listed as contributors very much anymore. But this is the thing I do to try and keep myself close to them; to pretend for a few moments when I can that we're sitting at a bar, talking our asses off about the teams we love and hate.  Let's get drunk and bro hug soon.

Happy Fucking Thanksgiving.