Screaming, crying and throwing up.
Those cathartically emotional reactions were on full display in the waning moments of the Bills’ stunning 42-36 loss to the Chiefs in the AFC Divisional Round two weeks ago, when Buffalo squandered a three point lead with just 13 seconds to go to knock themselves out of the playoffs.
The city of shirtless superfans and broken folding tables was forced to belt its trademarked ‘Shout’ song — but instead of shouting for their players, they were shouting at them.
We too have sung that song. Neither of us are lifelong Bills fans. Neither of us were born in the Queen City. But both of us have experienced the pain and agony that a demoralizing loss can bring. More often than not, it feels as if sport takes away more than it gives back.
Watching the Bills fall to the Chiefs two weeks ago reminded us of all the sores and discomforts sports have brought us over the years.
Just like that Sunday night, we’ve both held our head in our hands as our TVs glistened with streamers and fireworks, unrecognizable to our home colors.
We’ve both felt the nerves and excitement of the crowd fall at our feet and wither into the silent footsteps that lead us to cold cars and empty rooms, when we can’t help but ask ourselves, Why does everyone else seem to win?
But sports do that. Sports always do that.
Sports convince us that our teams are going to win it all this year, even though we say that every year. Sports bring us the highest highs — David Tyree making a miraculous helmet catch, Endy Chavez leaping high over the fence to bring back a home run, Ryan Pulock making an extraordinary diving save at the buzzer — just to follow them up with the lowest lows.
Sports teach us that no matter how many remotes we throw at our TVs, no matter how many players we yell at to shoot the puck, no matter how much money and time we invest in our fandom — our enthusiasm and knowledge won’t be enough.
It will never be enough.
But sports teach us so much more than just winning and losing.
It also teaches us that we can find beauty in the darkest moments — yes, even after a loss.
That beauty was almost touchable in 2012, as the stellar Scotsman Andy Murray broke down in a blur of emotion when his first Grand Slam win (that he had worked so tirelessly for) was so quickly snatched away from him. “I’m going to try this — it isn’t going to be easy,” Murray said in his post-match speech, through clenched teeth and tear-filled eyes, while the whole of London lit up with cheers and forehead kisses for their newborn tennis phenomenon.
That beauty was again on full display in 2019, when a hobbled Dominic Smith came back from a two month stint on the disabled list to hit a walk-off three-run homer in the final game of the season. The New York Mets had been long eliminated from the playoffs, but that day, the only thing that mattered was the magic that happened on the diamond.
That beauty was palpable too when England fans flooded social media with warmth and support for 19-year-old midfielder Bukayo Saka, who faced swarms of racial abuse and slurs because of his missed penalty which cost England the UEFA Euro 2020 final against Italy.
And that beauty was apparent in the stunned silence that followed the New York Islanders’ 1-0 loss in Game 7 of the 2021 NHL Conference Finals to the Tampa Bay Lightning. Sitting on our couch, disbelief tattooed to our faces — there are few experiences that are more deflating and bewildering.
Heck, there are few experiences that are more beautiful.
But these moments don’t exist in a vacuum. They enable us to feel with our whole heart when our team finally does capture a title, especially after years of struggles and failures.
It’s the feeling when, at 7-years-old, we watch a dozen grown men fall to their knees in tears, as their beloved football team beats the undefeated Patriots in the Super Bowl. Never mind that we watched the game on a 22” TV in the basement of a Brooklyn apartment, or that we were more concerned about the commercials than what happened between them.
Never mind that it would take us a few more years to capture the same joy as our father and his friends. The point remains the same: that feeling of shared euphoria is unlike any other in the world. It completes us as people.
It’s in our friends’ hugs, which tell us that no, we aren’t dreaming. It’s in the breaks in our voice, which puts to shame the idea that sports are hyper-masculine and we can’t betray emotion. It’s in the tears that fall from our face, no matter how hard we try to suppress them.
As Fredrik Backman wrote in “Beartown:” “Never trust people who don’t have something in their lives that they love beyond all reason.”
Sports, for so many of us, is something that we can invest our whole selves into.
Whether we’re competing, or rooting for our team, it’s all or nothing.
Heart, mind and soul.
Communities are built off of the back of sports. Buffalo bleeds blue and red, and the people here won’t let us forget it. Sports bring people of all ages and backgrounds together under one common cause. It doesn’t matter what our personal or political belief systems are, or what job we have, or what community we live in. All it comes down to is people uplifting each other in the name of a love they all share.
So when it comes to missed plays and fumbled balls, it can be a really painful experience. When something our community has fully invested itself into falters, it’s a gut-wrenching feeling.
But it’s also a necessary feeling.
Losing is just one painful step on the road to winning.
Sophie McNally is an assistant sports editor and can be reached at sophie.mcnally@ubspectrum.com
Justin Weiss is the managing editor and can be reached at justin.weiss@ubspectrum.com
Justin Weiss is The Spectrum's managing editor. In his free time, he can be found hiking, playing baseball or throwing things at his TV when his sports teams aren't winning. His words have appeared in Elite Sports New York and the Long Island Herald. He can be found on Twitter @Jwmlb1.
Sophie McNally is an assistant sports editor at The Spectrum. She is a history major studying abroad for a year from Newcastle University in the UK. In her spare time, she can be found blasting The 1975 or Taylor Swift and rowing on a random river at 5 a.m.
