Each season that passes without a Lombardi Trophy sitting on the shelf at the Buffalo Bills’ facility resonates like a ‘death nell’ for Bills fans of a certain age. It’s incomprehensible how fast 63 years of Bills’ history can go by… and yet here we are… again… clinging to our last few days leading up to training camp ‘BILLieving’ this will be THE year our beloved team finally wins a Super Bowl Championship. We are a sorry bunch of seniors who are going extinct almost as rapidly as network television.
The old farts who join me in this annual ritualistic form of self abuse know exactly what I’m referring to here. It’s so ingrained in us it’s the first thing that defines us when others ask about who we are/were as a Bills fan.
“Oh yea… that old lady Mundy is a whacko Bills fan. Don’t even get her started on the Bills or you will have a front row seat watching the old bitty have a complete emotional meltdown. She’s a hot mess when it comes to the Bills.”
-Said by every NFL fan under the age of 100 who ever encountered me.
Wash, rinse, repeat.
But… how many times can you wash, rinse and repeat?
The soul of every elderly Bills fan is as tattered as a flag left outside the Cheyenne, WYO airport for more than a day. Our poor aging souls have been crushed, stabbed, eviscerated, blown to smithereens and then burned to the bone.
And yet here we are.
In a matter of mere days the Buffalo Bills will open training camp at St. John Fisher University. We all know what that means. Time to get our hopes all jacked up like Charlie Brown, only for Lucy, in the form of Andy Reid, to come along and pull the proverbial football right out from under us.
Again.
And again and again. Yet somehow we soldier on… mostly because we JUST KNOW this will be “our year”. We can feel it in our osteoporotic bones.
So what are we left to do at this point? We will do what we always do… step away from the dog days of summer and and leap smack dab into the stench of training camp adrenaline. Win or lose, we are joyful bunch of freaks.
I’m too old to even begin describing the level of psychopathology lurking inside all of us who profess to be fans of the Buffalo Bills. Old farts like myself are leaving this earth with the ‘145B4IDIE’ at a rapid clip. Time to put a stop to this form of persistent mental abuse and let us die with our eyes filled with the light shining off the Lombardi Trophy as it’s placed on display at One Bills Drive.
Do it for the old folks.
Editor’s babble: You can also find me blabbering this kind of nonsense and worse on Twitter @RobynMundyWYO.
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