I would rather extract my own fingernails than start giving any serious thought to Sunday's Jacksonville-Buffalo game, beyond noting that the National Football League's archaic blackout policy gives you an excuse for not watching.
Instead, We Want Marangi is ignoring the Bills completely on this Media Day in order to adopt a championship football team -- the Toronto Argonauts.
It seems only fair. If Buffalo has to loan the Bills to Toronto for one home date each year, shouldn't we get to bask vicariously in the Argonauts' freshly won glory?
Toronto followed Chan Gailey's master plan -- stink for most of the regular season, so that nobody really pays attention to you, then get hot late, sneak into the playoffs with a .500 record and run the table. This, of course, is much easier when you play in a league with only eight teams (the CFL will expand to nine in 2014, but unfortunately, only one will be known as the Roughriders).
Canadian football is, of course, fundamentally different than its American cousin: Three downs instead of four, a field 110 yards long (can someone explain why a country that otherwise loves the metric system so much still measures a football field in yards?) and scoring vagaries that no one seems to understand.
There is a drastic cultural difference as well. The Grey Cup's equivalent in this country involves massive corporate Super Bowl parties, two weeks of saturation coverage by every media outlet of significance and boom times for strip joints throughout the host region.
What did Torontonians do to get ready for the Grey Cup? Host a huge pancake breakfast, of course.
God, you people are adorable.
There was a victory parade through downtown Toronto. Buffalo throws consolation rallies (Bills in January '91, Sabres in June '99) instead.
Nor do Bills fans have to concern themselves with another issue facing the Argos faithful -- what does winning a championship mean to the franchise and the community that supports it?
Having celebrated in joyous, yet mature fashion, the GTA now turns its attention to the scandal involving erstwhile Toronto Mayor Rob Ford and $3,150 in public funds that went to an organization that provides football equipment for underprivileged kids.
It wouldn't be right to tease you with a line from "O, Canada" in the headline without supplying a rousing rendition of The World's Greatest National Anthem.
Can't figure out why you build your Sundays around a near-certain weekly disappointment?
Scott Rubin, former editor-in-chief of National Lampoon and a degenerate Bills fan, doesn't understand it, either. But the man admits his problem, and is trying to do something about it. Or at least make a few bucks from his addiction.
(Thanks to Mitch Gerber for calling this to the attention of the We Want Marangi social-media department.)
The Bills have just pulled within a touchdown early in the fourth quarter and the defense takes the field.
"Are the Buffalo Bills winning?" asks Oscar, who has just wandered into the living room and sat next to me on the couch.
"No," I tell him. "But if they stop the Colts here and get the ball back, they've got a chance."
Oscar is six, so I try to emphasize the hopeful part of being a fan, the good feeling produced when optimism gets reinforced. He has plenty of time to learn the world's harsher realities.
"The Bills need the defense to do something," I say. "They need Mario Williams to do something."
Oscar is quite possibly the world's most devoted aficionado of MariO's, the Honey Nut Cheerios knock-off packaged in a box with the fearsome visage of the highest-paid defensive player in the National Football League. Thanks to a rather intensive brainwashing program, he has come to believe that actions such as the consumption of a particular food can impact the outcome of a sporting event.
"Do you think we should have some MariOs?" I ask him, brow furrowed in an effort to look serious.
His eyes get wider than usual.
"Yes!"
Oscar jumps off the couch, and runs into the kitchen.
"Mom! We need to eat some MariOs! Where are they?"
I can't see Josselyn's eye-roll, but think I hear it. Still, Oscar runs back with the box just as Marcell Dareus drops a scrambling Andrew Luck after a 1-yard gain on first down.
I open the box and Oscar grabs a handful.
"Do you think the Bills play better because we're eating MariOs?" he asked, repeating a question I have used several times during his indoctrination.
"I don't know," I say, taking my own handful. "What do you think?"
Again with the wide eyes.
"Yes!"
Luck hits T.Y. Hilton, who has scored both Indianapolis touchdowns, on second down, but Buffalo cornerback Justin Rogers wraps him up two yards short of the marker.
"It's third down, Oscar. If the Bills can stop them from going this far," I stand and point to the yellow line on the screen, "They get the ball back."
"Which one is Mario?" he asks.
"He's right here."
Still standing by the television, I point to No. 94 getting into his stance at the top of the picture. I sit down next to Oscar as the ball is snapped, and Williams swoops in on Luck and deposits the league's first overall draft pick on the artificial turf.
"Mario!" Oscar yells, his mouth full of cereal. He turns to me for a fist bump (which, in his near-constant state of exuberance, is usually more of a fist punch. We are working on it).
That, of course, would be the high point of the afternoon.
We could rehash the rest of the game -- the predictable Fitzpatrick interception, minimized by Stevie Johnson's terrific effort in stripping and recovering the loose ball; Chan Gailey's continuing insistence on not using his best offensive player, C.J. Spiller, in game-deciding situations; Gailey's decision to once again abandon the offense's most productive weapon, the running game, when down by one score with plenty of time remaining; Gailey's second craven choice of the day to punt on fourth down; and the defense's inability to stop an offense with wavering confidence and a rookie quarterback on an all-or-nothing third-and-10, this time due to rookie corner Stephon Gilmore's weekly pass interference infraction.
But that would be just as depressing as watching it all happen. Once again. (If you really want to get into that mess, Jerry Sullivan does so in style here -- if you have a subscription to the Buffalo News or haven't used up your monthly allotment of free articles yet.)
Such an accounting also would miss the main point -- for the 12th time in the 13 seasons since the Bills last reached the postseason, they enter December with only a mathematical chance so slim as to be delusional.
Their quarterback isn't good enough. Their coaches aren't good enough. The players who are worthy of a playoff roster -- Spiller, Jackson, Johnson, the improved offensive line, Kyle Williams, Jairus Byrd -- aren't good enough to make up for the components that are not.
Not even Williams producing the sort of game fans, Gailey and Buddy Nix envisioned when he signed that $100 million contract last spring -- three sacks, two other tackles in the Indy backfield and four hits on Luck -- is good enough to overcome the systemic shortcomings on and off the field.
Yes, the sorry state of the AFC, compounded by Pittsburgh's apparent free-fall in the absence of Ben Roethlisberger, means someone will make the playoffs at 9-7 or, very possibly, 8-8.
But as Gary, We Want Marangi's senior legal adviser, pointed out in the afterglow of last week's win over Miami, thinking about playoff scenarios requires you to ignore the shortcomings of the Bills themselves.
Watching them choke -- that's a harsh word, but painfully accurate -- on Sunday in what amounted to a regular-season playoff game -- makes such blissful ignorance impossible. Given the quality of the next five opponents, along with the fact three of them are at home, one is in Toronto and the single road game is in Miami, where the Dolphins have no discernible advantage, the Bills, now 4-7, could win them all.
As Sunday showed, however, they're at least as capable of losing any or all of them -- especially considering that they have frittered away any possible margin for error, which figures to only increase pressure, which they have shown no ability to handle.
"Are visions of playoffs still dancing in your head?" Gary asked Sunday night via text message.
Not this team. Not with this coach. Not with this quarterback.
"It must get old, writing about them losing all the time," Josselyn said after the game.
Yes. Yes, it does. Besides a lack of time, that was the main reason I had taken a few seasons off after writing regularly about the previous 19.
But it isn't just the losing. It's that the story just keeps repeating itself.
Gailey is Dick Jauron -- a seemingly decent person with some success as a coordinator and absolutely no business being a head coach -- but with a beard.
And Ryan Fitzpatrick is Kelly Holcomb -- a cast-off who fans detest less than the more acclaimed homegrown draft pick who came before -- but with a beard. And a much larger contract.
When Buffalo started 5-2 last year, it made for a nice story: The players nobody wanted led by the coach nobody wanted proving everybody else wrong.
The Bills have played 20 regular-season games since then. They have won five. Turns out everybody else was right.
WWM MVP: Johnson caught six passes for 106 yards, including a 63-yard catch-and-run that Gailey's play-calling helped turn into a field goal. The receiver also made the aforementioned strip on Indianapolis safety Tom Zbikowski, which should have been a game- and season-changing play.
BUT it doesn't matter who calls the plays if Fitzpatrick can't execute them. Even with an almost-exclusively short-range game plan, he barely completed 50 percent of his throws (17-of-33). And he badly overthrew two open receivers when the Bills did try to stretch the Colts.
Fitzpatrick was particularly pitiful in the first half, completing just six of 15 passes as the Bills managed a pair of field goals against a defense that gave up 59 points a week earlier in New England.
AND it might help more if someone, anyone else decided who is on the field when the Bills have the ball. Spiller disappeared for long stretches of the second and fourth quarters, finishing with just 14 carries, despite averaging 7.6 yards each time he did get the ball.
Spiller sparked Buffalo's only touchdown drive with a 41-yard run and ran for 51 of the 66 yards that put the Bills at Indy's 13-yard line just two minutes into the fourth quarter.
So, naturally, his number was not called on a single running play the rest of the way.
IF you missed it, here's video of two Colts cheerleaders getting their heads shaved. Megan, the woman on the right, pledged to go bald if the team's mascot raised $10,000 for leukemia research, in honor of Indianapolis coach Chuck Pagano, who is sidelined while he fights the disease. The mascot, Blue, raised more than $22,000, so Crystal, who overcame leukemia as a child, donated her locks, as well.
I'm not sure what I like better about the video -- that a guy dressed as a blue horse started the shaving process, or that he did so in a way that briefly made Megan and Crystal appear both bald and mulleted.
Despite some gut-twisting losses and some head-smashing embarrassments, the Bills' 4-6 record puts them two games back of the surprising Colts. A win would pull them within a single game with five to play, as well as possession of the primary tiebreaker over Indianapolis.
While Indianapolis' improved defense had a lot to do with its 6-3 start, it got thoroughly barbecued in last week's 59-24 trouncing at New England. It didn't help that Andrew Luck finally played like a rookie, either, throwing three interceptions and losing a fumble as the Colts' offense disintegrated after taking a 14-7 first-quarter lead.
As the Bills are well aware, getting smoked by New England can happen to almost anyone. Today marks the most pressure the 2012 first overall draft pick and his team have faced to date. If Buffalo's defense can put on the sort of performance it put on against another rookie quarterback, Ryan Tannehill, 10 days ago, while Ryan Fitzpatrick can avoid reverting to the ineptitude he displayed most of the season's first half, the Bills are squarely in the playoff race.
If they, and the Colts, revert to form, though, it's back to talking about who replaces Fitzpatrick next year.
As ever, feel free to share your hopes, fears and reactions in the comments below.
Ernie Warlick, whose biggest catch as a Buffalo Bill came in the final game of his career, died Saturday. He was 82. The tight end, who joined the Bills at the relatively advanced age of 32 after a decorated career in the Canadian Football League, led Buffalo with 35 catches in 1962. By 1965, though, he had lost his starting job to rookie Paul Costa, catching just eight passes as the Bills advanced to their second straight American Football League title game. For one more day, at least, he was a focal point of Buffalo's offense, catching three passes, including one that gave the Bills the lead for good in their second straight championship-game win over San Diego. Edwin "Bud" Shrake described the play for Sports Illustrated as follows:
Carlton made two smashing runs, the rookie tight end Costa made an excellent catch, and the Bills moved to the San Diego 18. From there Buffalo Coach Lou Saban sent in a call to Kemp: Warlick on a post pattern. Warlick, a veteran, was not a starter most of this season and got in Sunday only because of the double-tight-end strategy. The Bills had used two tight ends in short-yardage situations before, but never for an entire game. When Warlick heard he would start he was so grateful that he prayed.
"This was my big chance," he said, "and I prayed I wouldn't muff it."
From left end, Warlick got past the linebacker and then cut inside Corner Back Leslie Duncan. As he ran behind the goalposts, Kemp threw him the ball. "I saw the ball coming," said Warlick, "and I told myself, 'That's your ball and nobody else is going to have it.' I caught it and then I threw the ball in the air and when I looked up at it I didn't know whether that was the ball up there or if it was me. Duncan came up to me and asked why I had to pick on him. I told him, 'Man, it's either you or me and I truly don't intend for it to be me.' "
It eventually turned into a nightmare as many of the black players were left stranded at the airport for hours when they arrived in town. Once in the city African American players were refused cab service and in some cases those who were given rides were dropped off miles from their destinations.
Other players were refused admittance to nightspots and restaurants, while nearly all were subjected to tongue-lashings and to a hostile atmosphere on Bourbon Street in the French Quarter while sightseeing. The situation became so uncomfortable for the black players who clearly felt unwelcome that most simply returned to their hotels.
Later, all 21 African-American players who were scheduled to suit up met at the Roosevelt Hotel, the headquarters for the East team. The group discussed in great detail the treatment they had received and with a vote decided to walk out on the All-Star game.
“The majority ruled. We felt we couldn’t perform 100% under the current circumstances,” said Buffalo Bills end Ernie Warlick. “Actually this came as a complete surprise to us. We were led to believe that we could relax and enjoy ourselves in New Orleans just like other citizens.”
A number of white players joined the boycott. Ultimately, the game was moved to Houston. Despite his relatively short time in Buffalo, his performance earned him recognition as the tight end on the franchise's 25th Anniversary team in 1984.
I met him a few times at various Bills Alumni events, including a party during the team's 35th anniversary celebration in 1994.
Warlick and Tom Day, a defensive end and his teammate on the AFL Championship teams, talked with me for a half-hour or more. Warlick, president of the Alumni Association, had no bitterness about being cut loose by the team not long after his catch in San Diego.
Instead, he remembered his four seasons playing for the Bills, and subsequent decades living in the Buffalo area, with the warm, easy laugh of someone happy with and proud of the way he's lived his life.
(Special thanks to fellow recovering journalist Pat Murray for pointing me to the Sports Illustrated piece.)
Pete Gogolak (pictured) starred in two of the featured games. And this blog's namesake played a prominent role in No. 5, Detroit's 27-14 win over the Bills in 1976 at the Pontiac Superdome, when O.J. Simpson broke his own NFL single-game record by running for 273 yards.
Thanks to the bizarre workings of my brain, I remember watching that game. Even though I was eight, I remember thinking, "They're not even trying to stop O.J."
That was because the Lions led 20-0 in the third quarter and had absolutely no worries about Gary Marangi leading a comeback through the air. The one-time fan favorite did nothing to shake their confidence, completing four of his 21 passes for all of 29 yards.
So the Lions sat back in a prevent defense and let O.J. eat up the yards and the clock. Head coach Jim Ringo apparently decided to give up on trying to win and focused on getting the purely superficial record for Simpson, who never had a problem putting himself ahead of the team. Either that, or Ringo, who had taken over when Lou Saban quit earlier in the season, could not bear to watch Marangi try to throw any longer.
I was really hoping to find the NFL Films highlights of this game, largely to see Marangi in action. No such luck, but the WWM research department will keep looking.
The Bills haven't played on Thanksgiving Day since 1994, but they were once an after-dinner staple.
Back in the American Football League days, the Bills made an annual late-season swing to the West Coast. This was partly to save on travel costs, and partly to avoid Buffalo weather in late November and December. Three straight AFL Championship Game appearances in the mid-1960s made the Bills attractive to network programmers, as well.
So it was that Buffalo took part in five Thanksgiving games over a six-year span. In 1968, the Bills took a miserable 1-10-1 record into Oakland, where the Raiders were rolling towards the playoffs and a shot at defending the AFL title they had won in 1967 behind Daryle Lamonica.
Having traded away Lamonica and with Jack Kemp and every other quarterback still on the roster sidelined with injuries, the Bills were left with Ed Rutkowski at quarterback.
For one, the extended highlights below provide a nice taste of 1968, from the jazzy soundtrack to the shots of people dressed like grown-ups in the stands.
It also shows that, as much as times and fashions change, the Buffalo Bills do not. You can imagine your turkey-and-Genesee-laden ancestors settling in front of their 19-inch Philco and seeing the underdogs outplay the ominous Raiders for much of the afternoon.
Then they fall behind, only to rally to the brink of a stunning, nationally televised upset.
Finally, just six feet away from victory, they blow it, with their would-be hero fumbling the game away.
So take a break from your preparation and celebration to watch the clip below. And curse out Rutkowski, just for old times' sake.
