The Buffalo Bills know during the summer what’ll be opened on Christmas. I wanna play He-Man now, but there will be no exploring Castle Grayskull for awhile. This wait might be worth it. Ed Oliver is the first-round pick with two first names. Oh, and he was really mean to collegiate offensive lines. The next-best thing to him embarrassing guards right freaking now is letting him train until around Labor Day.
Even notoriously optimistic Bills fans didn’t bother hoping to cheer for Oliver: they figured one of the first eight teams would be smart enough to grab him. Instead, those putzing organizations showed why they get to draft so early. Exploiting the incompetence of earlier selectors is a trademark of ruthless clubs. Thank the Raiders for ensuring nobody in Oakland will miss them. By contrast, the Bills got the player they wanted as if they went 4-12, so pretend they tanked despite enjoying a couple extra wins.
The prospect of enemy offenses collapsing as if their line stepped into a black hole will sustain me through the rest of this interminable offseason. Oliver sheds blockers like I wish I could beer weight. Who could help themselves from looking forward to him playing as dominantly while getting paid for it?
We are futilely trying to not get ahead of ourselves before fantasizing about him pulverizing every vile bone in the cursed physical container that contains Tom Brady’s rotten soul.
It’s a relief to have people tell you how your career is going to unfold. Futures usually aren’t predetermined according to our sense of free will. Yet every football fan is fervently certain about who wins which games this year. Please excuse our soothsaying, as we’re just enthusiastic about the stockpile added by a general manager who seems to have watched more than five or six football games. The feeling of proficiency displayed by Brandon Beane is so foreign for the Bills as to be difficult to identify.
Speculation lasts as long as the baseball season. Imagining what’ll be happening takes up nearly all the pie chart in a sport where your team doesn’t play on 349 days of the year, or 350 for the cruel leap year following this one. Football dreams are just particularly enhanced at this time, like how I have the urge to tell you what bands I like after I’ve had a couple wobbly pops.
I like what I’ve seen of Oliver from clips that look like fans with phones filming TV screens. Projecting how well the draft went is like deciding how the new Star Wars will unfold based on a two-minute teaser. We’ve seen about as much of the new guys’ play from highlight packages as intense nerds have of Episode IX. That won’t stop us from giddy guessing. It’s fine to anticipate even if this franchise hasn’t always delivered on the promise of previews.
Oliver has not made it to the Wall of Fame yet, although my daydreams will stray to picturing his name alongside Reed and Kelly once he’s given a number. Potential thrills can only be based on what prospects have done so far. That’s true for all of us.
Without knowing what’s next, humans naturally forecast an extension of abilities. That trait specifically applies to a promising college footballer who turned his extracurricular into work. Fans of relentlessly slippery defensive tackles are happy with what’s on film so far, including Oliver’s gleeful reaction to relocating from Southeast Texas to Western New York. Welcome, neighbor!
I’ll be sustained through much of the remaining offseason with amazement that such a promising talent could remain. The experience is novel around these parts. As with those who’ve never seen Game of Thrones, Bills fans often feel left out as others enjoyed intrigue leading to payoff. We became adept at forcing ourselves to feel excited as with pretending Sammy Watkins was worth next year’s first-rounder, too. But the hobby of gymnastic justification is thankfully as obsolete as his bobblehead.
The draft’s crown jewel has the chance pick up right where Kyle Williams left off. The retiree gets to watch someone else battle ceaselessly. As the last guy manning the position is enjoying well-earned cocktails served in hollowed-out coconuts, someone new can display multiple layers of relentlessness.
While nobody can replace Kyle, Oliver seems like the ideal player and person to follow him. A three-time All-America selection ideally won’t need excessively long to transition to pro domination. It’s unfair to expect him to step immediately into the lineup, so let’s do just that. Unrealistic expectations are our privilege for enduring a double-digit loss season.
Now, sit quietly until we can see whether draftees are as successful as hoped. The interlude before kickoff is cruel at any point in history and especially in the social media era where a nuclear missile launch would trend on Twitter for about 35 minutes.
Hurry up, time. You have to wait four months for your Chick-fil-A order, which is a bit longer than their drive-in time goal. Unlike delicious chicken sandwich peddlers, Oliver will be working on Sunday. Similarly, our imaginations will be in overdrive until at least training camp. I blame eerily competent management for getting us wound up.
Editor’s babble: I literally almost aspirated my mouthful of coffee over “pulverizing every vile bone in the cursed physical container that contains Tom Brady’s rotten soul.” Hahaha!!! Thanks to Anthony Bialy for giving us the giggles every Wednesday. You can find Anthony on Twitter @AnthonyBialy.