Fair enough. Grew up in Buffalo a long time ago. My father was an original Sabres season ticket holder, so I got to see live games from time to time when his friends had last minute changes of plans. My heroes growing up were Gilbert Perreault and O.J. Simpson (win some, lose some). One of my two favorite childhood Sabres memories is Jim Schoenfeld knocking Wayne Cashman through the zamboni entrance at the Aud.
Schoenfeld vs. Cashman, 12/13/72
I can talk about the other one another time.
Left Buffalo during the Rust Belt depression era. Moved around. Made some money. Lived a life. Raised some kids.
I somehow lost touch with the Bills. I came to the conclusion a long time ago that football on TV is eleven minutes of action sandwiched between four hours of commercials. Allen is drawing me back in a little, but I'm still at an arm's length.
But I always cared about the Sabres most. It was harder back in the eighties and nineties, but today it's easy to maintain a connection even from a distance (New England).
Now that I'm getting close to winding down my workforce commitments, my wife and I are considering (given her Canadian roots and the rebound going on in the city) a move back to Buffalo. She doesn't like hot weather and I don't like divorce lawyers so we're mostly in agreement. I have a few more years still, but I'm hoping to be a season ticket holder if and when we get there.
I don't take myself seriously. I like ethnic food, punk rock, quirky TV shows, cannabis, the Jetsons, witchy chicks, and lazy dogs. I'm in favor of true love, free love, stank love, puppy love, muskrat love. I'm faithful. I want the Sabres' goal song to be
The W.A.N.D by The Flaming Lips (recorded in Batavia, NY, I think). In fact, I'm seeing the future of the franchise being the biggest, weirdest, most joyous party the NHL has ever seen. Bills Mafia on acid with an awesome laugh track.
Jesus Christ. I think I just wrote a dating app profile.