Buffalo Bills fans shouldn’t have to endure this suffering

The most difficult part is the long walk out of the stadium. You’ve witnessed your cherished team defeated on its home turf, and all that surrounds you is a profound silence mixed with the shuffling of feet. Among fellow fans, some adorned in jerseys, others with face paint, and a few in full-body costumes, there’s a shared sense of sorrow. The realization that it’s over, truly over, begins to set in, creating a hollow and gaping awareness.

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Buffalo Bills fans have endured numerous walks like these, each one more painful than the last, with the latest occurring on Sunday night courtesy of the Kansas City Chiefs. Once again, Patrick Mahomes delivered a gut-wrenching blow to the hearts of Bills fans, marking the third time in the last four years that he has left the field victorious.

No fanbase should be subjected to the relentless heartbreak that the Bills’ supporters have experienced throughout the team’s history. It’s neither fair nor right, but that’s the nature of football.

The agony for Bills fans has reached a point where it seems like the Football Gods are revisiting old narratives. In a crucial moment on Sunday, a Buffalo field-goal attempt went astray. As Jim Nantz of CBS aptly and painfully expressed in the moment: “Wide right. The two most dreaded words in Buffalo have surfaced again.”

Indeed, Nantz was alluding to the painful origin of Buffalo’s suffering—the missed Super Bowl-winning field goal by Scott Norwood in 1991. Despite reaching three more Super Bowls afterward, a record-setting four consecutive appearances, the Bills never came as close to victory again. After enduring a couple of decades in the wilderness, enforced by Bill Belichick’s dominance, the Bills have returned to the postseason, only to face Patrick Mahomes and his relentless assaults on their playoff dreams every January.

Let’s set aside the fact that even if the Bills had made the field goal, it probably would have just prolonged the inevitable. The game would have been tied, and Mahomes would have had 1:43 to position the Chiefs for a game-winning field goal. We all know precisely how that scenario would have played out. The Bills had opportunities to secure the victory and missed them, yes. However, at this point, criticizing them for those missed chances feels a bit like telling someone who has just crawled out of a wrecked car that their vehicle is dirty and could use a wash.

The larger tragedy looming over all of this is that the broad highway of opportunity that once stretched open for Buffalo has now narrowed considerably, resembling at best a narrow alley and at worst, a keyhole. Consider Josh Allen’s escalating cap hit: $10.2 million in 2021, $16.3 million in 2022, and $18.6 million in 2023. Next year, it skyrockets to $47 million, and it remains above $41 million for the remaining five years on his contract. Consequently, Buffalo will be allocating an additional $30 million to retain the same quarterback—undoubtedly a remarkable quarterback, but still the very same individual—in uniform.

Despite these challenges, Bills fans will endure. The Bills Mafia is often recognized by its most theatrically extreme members, the enthusiasts who perform daring stunts like leaping through tables or even setting themselves on fire, sometimes simultaneously.

You’ve witnessed the eccentricity of Pinto Ron, the enthusiastic character who gets drenched in ketchup and mustard before each game. You’ve seen Jason Kelce taking bowling ball shots among the crowd. Bills fans even showed up at their stadium to shovel snow on a frigid Buffalo night. Since someone accidentally fell into the pit where their future stadium will stand, coinciding with a successful winning streak, fans have been willingly throwing themselves into the pit as human sacrifices to appease the unpredictable Football Gods.

Just beneath the level of these devoted fanatics are the vast majority of Buffalo supporters—a loyal and resilient group that has endured unparalleled pain compared to any other franchise in American sports. Not the Jets, not the Cubs, not the Browns, not the Clippers—none have experienced this unique cycle of excellence leading to hope, only to have that hope shattered by unforgiving fate. Even the Lions, long considered the NFL’s doormat, are now reveling in well-deserved success this postseason. Yet for Buffalo, the days of celebration always seem to be on the horizon.

A few years ago, ESPN crafted “Four Falls of Buffalo,” a remarkable documentary on the early ’90s Bills. It concluded with a painfully discordant note—a portrayal of Norwood’s field goal going true instead of veering off course. Accompanied by Elvis’s “If I Can Dream,” it was a poignant exercise in wish fulfillment, likely stinging for Buffalo fans. It’s the hope that becomes agonizing, and the lingering “what if” that intensifies the pain.

When you love a team that reduces you to tears on national television, you hold onto the hope that, in the end, there’s a purpose to all the suffering and a reward for enduring it all. Bills fans must continue the journey. Salvation appears to be at least another year away.