The Bills are an international embarrassment.
I was prepared to write about the Bills in Toronto series and Marshawn Lynch. There’s a good argument to be made that the apathy felt by many with Lynch’s return to “Buffalo” runs in step with the fans’ apathy towards the Bills in Toronto series. There’s little outrage for these games. No one seems to really care anymore.
Then the Seahawks ran all over the Bills and here I am, irrationally angry once again.
There’s little use hiding my frustration with this team. We try our best to write funny tweets about foxglove poisoning and hide our rage with GIFs and statements of indifference. But we’re still watching. We still care.
I’m as frustrated as I’ve ever been with this team. We are wasting our time. Every Sunday oscillates between completely pointless and incredibly cruel. Something has to change and if the the team won’t change, we have to. I have to.
My childhood is over. No one is sitting me down and teaching me how to be a Bills fan on Sundays. I can do whatever I want with my time. Read a book. Watch basketball. Find a hobby that doesn’t involve whatever is on Chan Gailey’s playsheet.
So here’s the deal: the next head coach of the Buffalo Bills will determine what I do with my Sundays next fall. That’s where this organization will make a real statement about the future of the team. I can tell you right now, if it’s Norv Turner or Andy Reid patrolling the sidelines for the Bills, I’m done.
I’m looking for an inspired hire. A reason to care about what happens at Ralph Wilson Stadium on Sundays. There’s no way in hell I’m buying season tickets for this nightmare. I’m not buying jerseys or hats or scarfs. There is no money at stake with this. Right now, the only thing they can muster is my attention. I can’t believe I give them that much at this point.
So there it is. That’s where I am with football these days. Go Bills or something.