Source: www.junkfoodguy.com --- Monday, August 28, 2017
JFG Nation, the Mayweather-McGregor fight is over (thank you, Periscope and some random kid in Germany for letting me watch that fiasco for free). Baseball is racing towards the finish line…sort of. And my head is still spinning from the Cavs/Celts trade…which is…maybe not complete yet? (How does this happen, by the way? A trade is announced…and then one side is still looking for more in the deal? What the hell, man? WHAT’S THE POINT OF SHAKING HANDS AT ALL??) Anyways, the NFL is basically here, and for the uninitiated: I am a Buffalo Bills fan. Why? Because I’m from Upstate New York, Nation. And Upstate (not Western) New Yorkers have a bond: Nick Tahous, Abbott’s Custard, La Nova wings, and suffering. Suffering through Buffalo Bills seasons. Forget politics or hot takes or whatever Twitter is shrieking about for the moment: when I meet another Bills fan, it doesn’t matter if we are the two most different people in the world – there is a bond. A knowingness. A familiarity that makes you empathize and understand that person. Because being a Bills fan is ROUGH. I grew up during the 90s Bills Super Bowls. I remember what it was like. I had my heart break four times as an adolescent, watched a carousel of QBs trample on that same heart since the mid 90’s, and watched as the Titans picked my heart up off the ground and put through a meat grinder. JP Losman. Marshawn Lynch. Peerless Price. These names stab at me like little orcs with ...
from Baseball http://ift.tt/2wMBaMN
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