No Bills commentary from me until February if I can help it
Well, I had a meltdown after the Vikings game, but otherwise I intend to stick to my word here and save my commentary for, well, February. ... I'll check back in a few weeks if I've found anything worthwhile to say.
I apologize in advance for how long this post is. I realized as I went that I had quite a bit to say since I tried not to chirp about the Bills all year, so this turned into sort of a short story about their season. Anyways…
The 2022 Buffalo Bills are, to me, an important lesson in the weight of expectations. There was absolutely an emotional aspect to them being crowned Super Bowl favorites after the spectacular divisional loss last year, widely regarded as one of the greatest games in NFL history, yet an unfathomable blow for the losing franchise.
The follow up campaign started out in glamorous and fulfilling fashion. There was the beatdown over the defending Super Bowl champion, the 40-burger laid on the AFC’s reigning #1 seed, the 17-point comeback against the Ravens, and the laugher against the Steelers, the most lopsided loss in the Mike Tomlin era. Then adversity struck, from one angle after another. There was the Ken Dorsey meltdown in an ugly loss to the Dolphins, the loss to the Zach Wilson Jets, and in early November, the loss to the Vikings in another heartbreaker dubbed “game of the year”. And that was just on the field. Dawson Knox tragically lost his brother, and back to back snowstorms forced two games in Detroit in a span of five days. The second, on Thanksgiving, was a turning point, when the Bills lost Von Miller, their “closer”, for the season, and from then on became the very definition of a team “finding a way to win”. There was the late game-winning drive against the Lions, a trio of grind-it-out divisional wins including a winter classic against Miami, and eventually a third straight division title, sealed up in less-than-impressive fashion against the Bears.
Then in the highly anticipated showdown against the Bengals, the unthinkable occurred when safety Damar Hamlin went into cardiac arrest on the field. The game was cancelled while players, staff and fans alike anxiously awaited an update, which finally came late in the week, and it was a fortunate one as Hamlin had regained consciousness and was making progress on what would be a long road to recovery. However, the emotions of the unprecedented situation carried over to the season finale a week later, encapsulated by a “storybook” kickoff return touchdown on the very first play. Lost in the drama of a great sports moment was the fact that the Bills didn’t play very well. They won by 12, but looked very much the Patriots’ equal aside from the two kickoff returns. But “a win is a win”, and they had ended the Patriots’ season and kept their winning streak alive.
The following week was perhaps even more concerning. Despite Miami starting their third string QB, Josh Allen’s turnovers continued, the Dolphins scored on defense, and put a few drives together to keep it dangerously close. But amidst a sea of clock management issues for the Dolphins, the Bills held on for dear life and escaped with a win, ending the Dolphins’ season, and extending their winning streak to eight games. Up next: the mighty Bengals in a rematch of the cancelled game. It was the “game we never got to see”; the “game of the week”; “impossible to pick”.
Impossible to pick indeed. In hindsight, the two sides of the coin are clear: On one side is the fact that the Bills hadn’t lost in over two months, that their upside was so high because they were winning
without playing very well, that they had become adept at “finding a way” despite tremendous adversity, that there was nothing but themselves to stop them from riding this roller coaster all the way to the Super Bowl.
On the other side, though, is the fact that they hadn’t looked like a great or even very good team in almost three months, that they hadn’t had a dominant performance since early October, that winning a litany of close games had covered up for their mediocrity, that they would be without two of their best players on defense, that these underlying issues would be exposed by a better opponent.
And as it turned out, not just a better opponent, but also an angry, locked-in, us-against-the-world opponent, fueled by being disrespected by the NFL, disregarded by NFL media, and most of all, excluded from the first-ever neutral-site championship game, a glamourous storyline that completely overlooked the present, one that meant absolutely nothing if they were better than the Bills for a mere three hours on a snowy January afternoon.
Unfortunately for the Bills, they could not afford to overlook anything against the Bengals if they hoped to continue their journey to Atlanta and beyond. That became a stunning reality within minutes of kickoff: they were down 14-0 almost immediately, outgained 165 yards to 8 in the first quarter, completely overwhelmed on both lines, and completely outschemed and confused by both Bengals coordinators. On the scoreboard, it was a situation they hadn’t been in since September in Baltimore - but that might as well have been centuries ago. Now, everything was on the line, and the Bills – seemingly all of them – had been stunned into a malaise. As Burrow calmly hit open recievers, the snow on the ground hampered the Bills’ already limited pass rush, and the snow in the air made the scene even more surreal. The Bills regained composure to pull within one score, only to give up another touchdown – fortuitously called back upon review – their ensuing drive stalled past midfield, and settling for a 10-point deficit at halftime felt like a win. A field goal drive after the half had the crowd back into the game – just one stop here, and they would have a game. Instead, Burrow was surgical, leading the Bengals on a touchdown drive that sucked away all of that energy and momentum.
Down 17 late, the Bills opted to go for a 4th down in easy field goal range instead of cutting the deficit to two scores. It was an aggressive call, but an understandable one. The result, though, was deflating. The Bengals got the stop, and it felt like that was when the Bills gave up. The weight of an extremely long and challenging season had become too much, the hope of Super Bowl glory had come crashing down in less than three hours before the eyes of thousands of fans who, for the first time in almost two seasons, started heading to the exits before the game was over.
Players were blunt in the aftermath: They just didn’t have it. They lacked energy. They never really got into the game. For the second straight year, “disappointing” didn’t feel strong enough to describe the result. And yet, what I found most interesting was the juxtaposition with last year. Last year’s game was an absolute thriller. Watching two QB’s at the peak of their powers put up 25 points in the final two minutes was nothing short of unbelievable. And it was almost impossible to take in what happened after the go-ahead touchdown with 13 seconds left. From the absolute peak of the mountaintop – the franchise high water mark of the century - to one of the most painful, unspeakable, gut-wrenching losses imaginable. Those 13 seconds quite literally
lived in Bills’ fans heads for weeks, even months – and that’s to say nothing of the players and coaches.
This year’s loss couldn’t have been more different. There was no real drama, no swinging pendulum of win probability, no spectacular fourth quarter plays, no coverage breakdowns or any one player or coach to assign credit or blame for the result – just wire to wire domination by a mentally and physically superior team and a better coaching staff. In many ways, this seemed like a more surprising result, but a closer analysis would have pointed to underlying potential for a major letdown. The Bills, in one of the most challenging regular seasons I can remember, had found a way to win 13 games to get to this point and just didn’t have the fortitude or the talent to show up one more time against a great opponent when it mattered most. Painful, yes. Deflating, absolutely. But not agonizing, nor gut-wrenching, nor unspeakable. This time around, the message is clear, and it’s for the front office as much as the players: You weren’t good enough when it mattered, so learn from it and go get better this offseason. And that’s a thousand times easier to bear than those 13 seconds.
