Rob Johnson, Alex Van Pelt, Drew Bledsoe, J.P. Losman, Trent Edwards, Ryan Fitzpatrick, EJ Manuel, Kyle Orton, Tyrod Taylor, Josh Allen. Wade Phillips, Gregg Williams, Mike Mularkey, Dick Jauron, Perry Fewell, Chan Gailey, Doug Marrone, Rex Ryan, Anthony Lynn, Sean McDermott. Those are the starting quarterbacks and head coaches, respectively, for the Buffalo Bills since the year 2000.
Drew Bledsoe, Tom Brady, Cam Newton. Bill Belichick. Those are the starting quarterbacks and head coaches, respectively, for the New England Patriots since the year 2000, for comparison.
For the past two decades, the Bills franchise has been scarcely more than a revolving door of mediocrity. I remember when Drew Bledsoe was supposed to be the answer for our offense; I remember when Takeo Spikes was going to transform our defense; I remember when Rex Ryan ruined our defense; I remember when the Bills started 5-1, only to finish 7-9. I remember every season, every disappointment, and all the hot air that came with them.
“The Bills f*cking suck” and “this is the year,” the two camps Bills fans have fallen under for the past two decades. Any guesses into which camp I fell?
Growing up, my emotional investment in the Bills was minimal to be quite honest, and I think this is because I played football starting in the second grade through high school. I cared much more about the success of the teams I played on than some mediocre professionals whom old folks squawked about because apparently the squad was good once upon a time. It was only until after I hung up my cleats for the final time that I found myself living vicariously through my city’s franchise, and finding that I cared a lot more about their success than I ever thought I would.
I remember sitting on my friend’s back deck one evening this past summer, defending my argument through clouds of e-cig vapor and the clang of hard seltzer cans that the Bills would suck yet again this year. I was yelled at and booed by those from the “this is the year” camp. I was accused of hating Josh Allen, of hoping that the Bills “do bad,” and of trying bring the team down.
For the record, I don’t and have never hated Josh Allen (I have never even met him), I have never wished the Bills to perform poorly, and I’m pretty sure my prophecies have no impact on the Bills’ performance. My predictions this past summer were based on nothing more than observable data, not hatred or other such “feelings.”
But guess what? For the first time in 20 years, I was wrong. The Bills finally stopped sucking. This year is finally different. How do I know? Because hindsight is 20/20 of course.
The Bills went 13-3 for the third time in franchise history, a feat not accomplished since the ’91 season. The Bills won their first playoff game in 25 years, their first divisional round playoff game in 27 years, and now stand a mere one game away from reaching the Super Bowl. But what exactly is different about the 2020 Bills from the preceding teams of the past two decades?
What separates the 2020 Bills from those of the past two decades is simple: the 2020 Bills won games. Yeah, you probably think I’m a moron, right? I disagree.
The question I pose to you is what exactly does it mean to win a game? Does it mean having more yards of total offense than the opposing team? Does it mean holding the other team to fewer than 10 points? Does it mean winning the turnover differential? Does it mean having more first downs? Does it mean winning time of possession? Does it mean all of those things? If you answered yes to any of the above, you’re wrong. What it means to win a game is to have a higher number of points next to your team’s name on the scoreboard with 00:00 left in the fourth quarter, and the 2020 Bills did that.
Arguments I used to face by those from the “this is the year” camp almost always involved statistics around how we had more yards than the other team or a higher-ranked defense or, my personal favorite, about how we “should have” or “almost” won.
Fun fact, “almost” doesn’t cut it. Super Bowl champions aren’t champions because they “almost” won. The reason the Lombardi Trophy is so coveted is because you actually have to do it, you actually have to win your way to the title of world champion of the greatest game on Earth. The world championship doesn’t bestow its title upon those who “almost,” it bestows its title upon those who do.
Bills/Colts game summary: total yards: 397/472, 1st downs: 22/27, possession: 25:43/34:17, 3rd down efficiency: 2-9/9-17, turnovers: 0/0* (*we all know that was a fumble). The Colts should have won, and the Colts almost won, but the Colts didn’t win. Why didn’t the Colts win? Because when the game clock struck 00:00 at the end of the fourth quarter, the scoreboard read Bills: 27 Colts: 24. And that, my friend, is the only stat that matters.
You see, in years past, the Bills were oftentimes the Colts. The Bills had this, that, and the other thing (higher completion percentage, more rushing yards, etc.). But what the Bills didn’t have was the only thing that mattered, more points than the other team at the end of the game.
I feel dearly for Colts fans. I have lived those nightmares; I have watched my team beat another in every statistical category and still lose. It’s frustrating as hell, but it’s the way the game works. Those with more points at the end of the day are victorious.
Do I think the Bills will win Super Bowl LV? I don’t know, but what I can tell you for certain is the Bills have their work cut out for them. What do I mean by that? Mainly one thing: Andy Reid.
You see, Andy Reid is a man forged by fire. Andy Reid has been there and blown it. Andy has been the butt end of conference championship and Super Bowl jokes for what probably felt like an eternity to him. Andy Reid was “the one who couldn’t get it done” for nearly two decades.
But now, Andy Reid is “the one who got it done.” Andy Reid finally has the monkey off his back, and you can bet your bottom dollar that during this AFC championship game, Andy is going to think back to all the times he blew it, and he is not going to make those same mistakes again. I remember one analyst saying after Super Bowl LIV that the reason the 49ers lost was Kyle Shanahan coached like “the old Andy Reid.”
Now don’t get me wrong, I still think the Bills have a solid chance of advancing to the Super Bowl. The only two things I think the Bills are missing to convince me of a foolproof win are a demonstrated ability to make adjustments at halftime and a demonstrated ability to come back when down by two scores or more.
In most games this year, the Bills’ victories involved controlling the game and either riding an early lead through the finish line or maintaining their point cushion. The only game I can recall where the Bills assembled a last-minute drive was against the Cardinals, and they actually ended up shitting the bed on a Hail Mary and losing. The Chiefs on the other hand came back from a 24-point deficit in the divisional round last year to beat the Texans 51-31.
To close out, I want to say that I absolutely love this Bills team. The 2020 Bills have given me more than I ever could have asked for, more than I ever thought I would see, in one of the most trying years of my life. Memories of watching the games this year with friends and family are irreplaceable. Never in my life did I expect to see the Bills stomp the Patriots at Gillette, beat the living piss out of the Dolphins, and sweep the division for the first time ever.
For once in my life, I was able to watch games with my dad without swearing in disgust, but instead high-fiving and yelling that the other team f*cking sucks. For once in my life, I was able to watch playoff games with my friends, while on the edges of our seats, and see the Bills make their way to the AFC championship.
Regardless of what happens this Sunday, I can confidently say that the 2020 Bills are my favorite team that I have ever cheered for.
