For Bills fans, Super Bowl LII turned out to be a glorious, bountiful, smorgasbord of schadenfreude, watching the New England Patriots lose a heartbreaker to the high-flying underdog Philadelphia Eagles.
Nick Foles played the foil and the game of his life; believing in unicorns, tossing up rainbows, witnessing his receivers defy gravity and making a series of miracle catches, and then thanking God after the game like Stevie Johnson once blamed him.
The spectacle that is America’s Super Bowl shone brightly all night, like the 12-hour lead-in to an episode of "This Is Us" that it was.
It was especially us in Buffalo.
Incredibly, as you likely have heard, Buffalo was the top-rated market in the world. We bested even Philly, Boston and host city Minneapolis.
Bills fans, football enthusiasts, and casual lookie-loos all across the world were treated to a fantastic display of offensive football, although had to endure Cris Collinsworth, endless dilly-dilly commercials, and the Justin Timberlake karaoke contest, which were no small feats, especially in concert.
Local hero-turned-villain Rob "Gronklownski" hinted at retirement after the game, but few took him seriously. It was like interviewing a heavyweight boxer after a grueling 15-round title fight; they aren’t likely to say anything lucid for a few hours, if not days.
The game featured one sack, which was a game and back-breaker, and one 41-yard punt, total, which was only one more than the famous Bills-Niners shootout.
All offense, of course, is synonymous with no defense; about two-thirds of a mile of it. The total of 1,151 yards broke the all-time Super Bowl record by about 1,150 yards.
What must Lions fans be thinking when their new head coach, Matt Patricia, supposedly a defensive wizard, just gave up 538 yards, 41 points and a stunning loss to a journeyman backup QB? Patricia played the patsy in the game, down one of his best cornerbacks, but looked clueless himself, and never found a way to stop the Eagles from attacking through the air all night long.
The Patriots’ and Tom Brady’s final Hail Mary went unanswered, which was almost as shocking that it didn’t work than if it had.
Brady didn’t shake hands after the game, because he had none during it, dropping a gimme reception on a trick play with no one within 15 yards. Foles of course, caught his, which may have been the difference between a win and a loss.
Is it possible that Satan may have coached his last game and hung up his pitchfork for good? Ours?
Just after Patriots Day, Josh McDaniels played Benedict Arnold and was a horse’s behind to the Colts.
Obviously some Kraftwerk was involved. Robert Kraft was surely getting back at Jimmy Irsay. Twitter was aghast at the reneging and screwing of the Colts by the Pats.
I’ll take our McD over that one, every day of the week and twice on Sundays.
Eagles coach Doug Pederson, he of the colossal cojones, deserves all the credit in the world for playing to win all game long. He pushed all the right buttons and for once, the karma seemed to go against the blessed Pats. Most of the major calls and replays by the officials went Philly’s way.
Ertz-while, they all had gone the Patriot Way.
The opposite of schadenfreude, if there is such a thing, is the joy that Buffalonians can feel for Philadelphians. I strongly considered going to Philly on Sunday night just to try out the celebration for when we win.
We should feel happy for them. The City of Brotherly Love is akin to the City of Good Neighbors. They break iron bells; we break plastic tables. We are happy for the roster of former Bills and Buffalonians – all of whom got torched – except for Steven Means and Frank Reich, neither of whom actually played.
But mostly we are happy that the Patriots lost. It’s not as good as a Buffalo win, but shadenfreude is like authentic, ice cold, freshly brewed Oktoberfest beer.
It goes down oh so good.
Pete Rosen is a screenwriter in Los Angeles, lifetime Buffalo fan, and may be found blathering daily at twobillsdrive.com.