SPORTS TOWN I know it’s over: Saying goodbye to the Bills By Christopher Schobert The Buffalo Bills are going to leave town. Period. There is no doubt, and I’m shocked there is even a feeling that it might be possible to stop this freight train. I love the Bills, and I have since I was in red, white, and blue diapers. It’s hard to imagine a time when I wasn’t almost telepathically connected with the state of the franchise. One of the most vivid memories of my life remains watching Jim Kelly rush—yes, rush—for a last-minute game-winning touchdown against the Dolphins in the early nineties. It was an incredible play, the kind of moment that lends a drama to pro football that cannot be found in any other sport. The happier days of the franchise were long, long ago, but I would consider myself every bit as invested today in the team’s relatively few successes and many failures as I was back then. However, I am also either a pessimist or a blunt realist (you make the call), especially when it comes to local sports. I’ve contemplated the Bills’ fate for longer than it takes Bill Belichick to custom-cut a hoodie, and I simply cannot come to any other conclusion. The Bills are as good as gone. I had these sneaking suspicions well before the announcement that the Bills would play several games over the next few seasons at the Rogers Centre in Toronto. They became pretty well set in stone following February’s bizarre, rambling press conference featuring the increasingly rattled Ralph Wilson, Maple Leafs bigwig Larry Tannenbaum, and—shudder—cable magnate Ted Rogers. Rogers, who makes the Crypt Keeper look like Jared Leto, is quite possibly the scariest human being I’ve ever seen, a little like Gary Oldman’s character in Hannibal after the boar gnaws off what’s left of his already disfigured face. I trust this guy about as much as I trust Jerry Jones or Bob Kraft. They are the new breed, and the old-school owners of the National Football League are dying. There’s Ralph, and there’s Al Davis, and Bud Adams. But wait—haven’t Davis and Adams both played hop-scotch with their respective teams … so why should we hold Wilson to a diffeent standard? Wilson’s words at the press conference are now the stuff of Buffalo legend. You know, “People don’t have jobs, they move out,” etc. The funny thing is, I think many fans buy the heart of Wilson’s reasoning. The team certainly should try to tap the economic giant that is Toronto. Why wouldn’t it? The team has made great inroads in Rochester. So of course, let’s try to make the team an international success story. But watching that press conference, it became clear that everything is ready—the moneymen, the reasons, and the arrogance—to move the Bills soon after Wilson’s death. If not before. Who knows anymore? Back in late December, prior to his inauguration, I interviewed Erie County Executive Chris Collins and was able to ask him his thoughts on the franchise’s long-term future in Western New York. Unsurprisingly, he was encouraged by talk of the development of a local group keen on keeping the team here, as well as scuttlebutt of a supposed waterfront stadium downtown. But it was his answer to another question that was far more telling. When I asked him if, in his opinion, it is economically vital to keep the Bills in town, he replied, “It’s emotionally [I’ve added italics for emphasis—C.S.] a very important aspect of our county. What’s the saying, it’s priceless? I’d put the Buffalo Bills in the priceless column.” Um, okay. So that answer pretty much says nothing on the surface. But the choice of wording says a great deal. The Bills are emotionally important to us—not financially. This is our county executive making such a pronouncement, and, well, I think he’s right. Okay, so the people who park cars are gonna lose out on some money. And there’s all the folks who work game days at the stadium. But beyond that … tourist dollars? Motels? A few restaurants? Pizza places? At this stage of the game, and with everything else this city has been through, it’s nothing we can’t handle. Some seem to hold out hope that a group of local heroes will come together to save the team. Great in theory, but I think Jim Kelly, the increasingly less likable Tom Golisano, Jack Kemp, Brian Higgins, and the rest, are little more than super delegates in a caucus whose winner was preordained long ago. Buying a football team requires a lot more cash than purchasing a struggling, money-losing hockey franchise. And the thought that this region could afford to build a waterfront stadium is ridiculous. One of my favorite arguments for why the Bills will never leave is because commissioner Roger Goodell was born in Jamestown. Do you think that really enters into his thinking? Why would that random factoid make any difference when overseeing a league that makes billions of dollars? Roger Goodell likely cares as much for Buffalo as he cares about, say, the Atlanta Falcons or St. Louis Rams. He’s running a business. And keeping a team in a smaller market when a giant, monster large-market city beckons? That’s just bad business. So what are we to do? There’s nothing we can do. I plan to cheer as loudly as I ever have, watch the draft as I always do, and develop a misguided sense of optimism in August—as I always do. And if (when?) the Bills move north, I don’t think I’ll be able to keep myself from watching and cheering then, too. Let’s make like a dysfunctional family on summer vacation stuffed in a rusted Camry, and try to enjoy this, shall we? After all, to paraphrase John Candy in Planes, Trains, and Automobiles, these are the precious moments—they don’t come back. Christopher Schobert doesn’t have a second favorite football team. 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