I grew up a Green Bay fan. No idea why. I’m a Wyoming boy. That’s just who my family rooted for. The Packers were the only NFL team I ever loved…until April of my freshman year of college, that is. When my school’s quarterback, the one I watched at War Memorial Stadium in beautiful Laramie, Wyoming, went #7 overall to a team in New York I’d never thought twice about, something shifted in me. All of a sudden I could tell you everything you wanted to know about the Buffalo Bills. I knew the history. I knew the roster inside and out. I started going 5, 10, 15 years deep in Madden Franchise mode with them, taking Josh Allen, Wyoming’s adopted son, all the way to a 99 OVR and making him a perpetual MVP and Super Bowl Champ. I broke folding tables at our backyard tailgates. I interned in Ithaca for a summer and took it upon myself to make a pilgrimage trip to Buffalo while I was there. I dove head first into Bills fandom, being one of the most vehement Bills Mafia members west of the Mississippi. But that whole time, I still called myself a Packers fan. I considered myself a cheesehead first. It was just habit. For 22 years I’ve watched every Green Bay game. My childhood was landmarked by Brett Favre retiring and then, well, whatever else that was. I reveled in the victory of Super Bowl XLV and stuck it out through McCarthy’s last years. But I know in my heart where my love is now. It’s in the 716 with the man who brought my school a Famous Idaho Potato Bowl title. With all this Aaron Rodgers and now Davante Adams drama, I’m officially giving up on the Green Bay front office and turning over their spot of my favorite team. Like an ex I left on good terms, I’ll be happy for them when things go well, but I’m done giving them the best of me. I’m done lying to myself. I’m a Bills fan now, and I have been for three years. Circle the wagons, baby. Goddamn it feels good to say that, and goddamn it feels good to love the Buffalo Bills.
|