Buffalo has just replaced "Wide Right" with "Thirteen Seconds."
Last night, like most lunks across America, I rooted for the Buffalo Bills to exorcize the ghost of Scott "Wide Right" Norwood and go to the Super Bowl.
When it was over, after witnessing one of the most excruciating losses in memory, my wife looked at me and whispered, "Those poor, poor people..."
She didn't need to explain.
For the emotionally abused souls of Western New York, another year has been summoned to the gates of hell. In the end, all Buffalo needed to do was keep KC from moving 44 yards in 13 seconds. Thirteen seconds... yeesh, a squib kick would have killed three. Now, they have an entire year - eight weeks of winter in a dark pandemic - to ponder the unponderable, as they descend into madness.
Hence, an age-old question:
With sports teams, is it better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all?
Would they be better off as Giants fans?
This year, the NY Giants stopped bothering me in mid-October. By then, it was clear they were toast. As a lifelong Gints fan, I knew exactly what to do: I flicked the switch and rooted for the team to lost, to tank, to cause mass firings and inflict pain on the owners... and I say this without the slightest pang of guilt.
The Giants are a terrible franchise run by billionaire dicks who've never known an honest job and never will. When the team sucks - as it has now for practically a decade - it's easy to hate them, and frankly, it's fun! You never suffer, you never scream, you never experience the totality of pain... as Bills fans did last night.
By the way, one of these days, the Yankees might just provoke a similar reaction from fans.
But I ask you: Which was worse... tanking by Oct. 15, or falling short by 13 seconds?
Today, those poor, poor people of Western New York are a tortured, beaten tribe. The Bills are done, the lakes are frozen, the wings are cold, and all that's left are comic book universes, online porn and the Golden Snowball contest - which, by the way - looks like Buffalo's year.