Brady's Bullies Bludgeon Bills

Early in the second quarter of the Buffalo Bills’ self-immolation in Orchard Park on Sunday, the We Want Marangi coverage team (which on this Sunday consisted of my sister, Lori, and I) was looking for a distraction.

New England was only ahead 7-0, but the Bills seemed well on their way to steadily falling further behind before scoring a cosmetic touchdown or two. There were only two other people at The Sports Page Pub in the quaint village of Theresa, which is situated just east of Interstate 81 waaaaaay up in New York’s North Country. And neither of them seemed interested in conversation. Or the game, for that matter.

So we decided to shake things up with a little Quick Draw, New York State’s legalized version of keno. I explained how to fill out the card – at least as I understood it, as I hadn’t played in recent memory. The barmaid was in the kitchen when we completed ours, each playing four $5 games, with three spots each.

We got talking about something else, and at least one or two draws went by before we remembered to give her our cards to be scanned.

As the barmaid was printing out our tickets, Lori pointed at the winning numbers from the last draw, displayed on a monitor above the bar. She cursed.

“My numbers,” she said. “All three of them.”

Just then the barmaid arrived with our tickets. We both knew they would do us very little good.

“We should have just given her our money,” Lori said, “and forgotten about it.”

Likewise, the day turned out (Lori was correct about the very low probability of us recouping any money at Quick Draw, particularly after such a dramatic near-miss, incidentally), the Bills might as well have given New England their share of first place, any illusions they harbored about being a legitimate contender and, for good measure, their dignity.

At least they, the sell-out crowd and the network television audience would have been spared the embarrassment of seeing the Patriots take all three through the use of excessive force.

Getting humiliated by Bill Belichick, Tom Brady and whomever they surround themselves with in any given season is nothing new for the Bills, whether in Foxborough or suburban Buffalo. Usually, though, the thrashing takes the form of an aerial strafing by Brady, compounded by a manifestation of his opposing quarterback’s inferiority complex.

Ryan Fitzpatrick did his part and then some, throwing two interceptions that helped keep the Bills from opening up a bigger first-half lead and two more that helped the final score reach 52-28.

Most of the damage, though, came from an unusual source – New England’s running game. Someone named Brandon Bolden ran for 137 yards, with Stevan Ridley adding 106. If getting shredded by a couple of guys who normally serve as roster filler wasn’t humbling enough, the Patriots gained 157 of their 247 yards AFTER Donald Jones went 68 yards with a Fitzpatrick throw to give Buffalo a 21-7 with 11:08 left in the third quarter.

Fifty-two of those rushing yards came on the speedily methodic drive that immediately followed Jones’ dash, a possession capped by a 17-yard catch-and-run from Brady to Danny Woodhead, still another of New England’s interchangeable and usually irrelevant runners.

Brady himself tied it on the Patriots’ next drive with a 4-yard run, after which he colorfully responded to some assuredly good-natured jeering from fans sitting behind the visiting bench.

Then things got completely out of control, though in a thoroughly predictable fashion.

Buffalo punt. Brady touchdown pass to Rob Gronkowski. Fred Jackson fumble. Ridley touchdown run. Fitzpatrick interception. Bolden touchdown run. Fitzpatrick to Brad Smith for 35 yards and a touchdown that did little more than to cruelly tease the home fans. Onside kick recovered by, of course, Gronkowski. Brady to Brandon Lloyd for a 25-yard score that snuffed any flicker of hope for Buffalo. And, after Fitzpatrick’s fourth interception, a New England drive that culminated in a rather sadistic 30-yard Steven Gostowski field goal to make it 52-28 at the two-minute warning.

In 15 minutes of game time, the Patriots scored 31 points, turning what had the makings of a seminal upset into a thumping confirmation of the natural order of things in the AFC East.

Every good thing the Bills had accomplished over the previous two weeks was exposed as fraudulent. The rebuilt defense gave up 580 total yards, the second-most in franchise history.

After a pair of performances that suggested his value might actually approach his contract, Mario Williams couldn’t even draw a “Heeeeeeeeyyyy” from the home crowd.

Defensive coordinator Dave Wannstedt, whose coaching reputation relies almost wholly upon fading memories from the first Dallas Super Bowl wins over Buffalo, refused to switch out of the every-down nickel package until it was too late, even though the scheme was equally cooperative with New England’s running and passing games.

Buffalo’s offensive line was unable to create openings for what had been the NFL’s top running attack, despite the return of both Fred Jackson and C.J. Spiller from injuries. It also yielded three sacks, the first three times all season Fitzpatrick has been tackled behind the line while attempting to pass.

And unlike the few bucks Lori and I essentially donated to the great State of New York, this loss was not something the Bills can, or should, just forget about any time soon.

WE WANT MARANGI MVP: That Scott Chandler kid sure plays a mean tight end.

TOO SOON? Getting Jackson and Spiller back, when neither was widely expected to play earlier in the week, should have been a boost. It was not. They combined to gain 62 yards on 21 carries, each lost a key fumble and Spiller was overwhelmed on a blitz pick-up that resulted in a sack of Fitzgerald. Maybe Tashard Choice would not have been such a bad option, after all.

PRONUNCIATION GUIDE: The village – one block of three-story brick buildings, actually – that is home to the Sports Page Pub is properly pronounced “Thuh-re-sa” and not like the fairly common woman’s name spelled the same way. One hundred percent of Theresans surveyed had absolutely no idea why that is.

WING REPORT: The garlic-butter-parmesan delights served up at the Sports Page were every bit as good as they sound, and look.

Cajun-ranch sounded better in theory than it tasted in practice. Our barmaid explained that they go light on the Cajun part in order to appeal to their less adventurous customers. She recommended, if ordering them in the future, to ask for “extra Cajun.” So next time you find yourself in Theresa, take note.