R and J in the USA

It is with a combination of elation for the experience and opportunity, and peaceful, familiar, mildly devastating heartbreak for its outcome, that we report that, by the magic of coincidence and synchronicity, we got to have one of the most, sadly, quintessential Kansas City experiences of all. We got to watch, in person, the Kansas City Chiefs bring a close to the post-season of our team, the Buffalo Bills.

It was glorious. It was heart wrenching. It was familiar. And, in the end, it was such a neat experience. It definitely makes the cut into our top 5 unexpected and cool experiences of the trip. 

As we awaited the awards ceremony after our 5K in Springfield, MO, we talked through our Missouri itinerary. . As a result of the ripple effect from  extending our time in Hawaii, our Missouri itinerary needed some tweaking. Seeing as we were now in Missouri, we figured we should probably get on top of deciding what to do while here.

We had originally planned to head to the middle of the state after our race to check out some natural sites and features. After losing a day off our originally planned Missouri time, our path through the state needed to be adjusted. 

“I guess we better just head straight to Kansas City tomorrow.” Julie said to Ryan, surrendering to missing out on the middle part of the state.

That’s when the realization happened. 

“Wait – today is the 25th. That means tomorrow is the 26th,” Julie deduced (Julie’s super good at math).

Ryan continued to look at Julie, not yet seeing where this was going.

”Aren’t the Bills in the playoffs against the Chiefs? And aren’t they playing on January 26th?”

Ryan’s eyes lit up.

”Where are they playing?!” Julie asked as we quickly turned to google to find out what would be one of the trips most exciting synchronicities yet.

Ryan looked up from his phone. “The game is in Kansas City!”

”We’re going to the playoffs!” Julie exclaimed.

From then on it was pure excitement. 

On this trip, we’ve run into Bills fans and Bills fandom as far afield as Hawaii and everywhere in between. Sometimes we’ve run into them after they’ve flown across the country to hit a game in California. Other times we’ve run into them just walking through the world somewhere far away from Buffalo, but still sporting the gear. We have participated more than once in the “Buffaloha” that can happen between strangers. We have been on boats or walking through the woods and had occasion to say “Go Bills!” to a complete stranger.” They look up to see who is calling the familiar greeting andrespond, “Go Bills!” in solidarity before we each continue on in our strangerdom from there.  

Knowing how high and deep the spectrum of Bills fandom goes, we must consider ourselves on the lower end of that arc. We typically only tune in to the post-season games, and sometimes we even miss those. We’ll check the scores or the game highlights on occasion, but we do not live and breathe by football season, nor does our social calendar revolve around game time. The people who love the Bills LOOOOOOOVVVEEE the Bills. There is a certain kind of loyalty that is bred by constant heartbreak. We are not fans of that level, but, make no mistake, we are Bills fans nonetheless. And we have nothing but respect for the truest Bills fans who follow them season in and season out. 

Julie never bounced back after 1994, having watched four Bills Super Bowl defeats in a row from the ages of 12 to 15. Perhaps it was the wrong time in a young woman’s life to experience that kind of repeated heartbreak. After 1994, she realized she didn’t have the emotional wherewithal to be all in. But 30 years later, after lots of maturing and emotional growth, she has started paying more and more attention. Ryan had been to a handful of Bills games over the years, but, similar to Julie, never went all in during the season to watch the Bills. We know that there are plenty of fans taking care of showing up for the Bills everyday. But, at heart, we are Go Bills all the way. 

Julie had been to exactly zero Buffalo Bills games in her life, and the fact that her first game was going to be this one – the AFC Championship game, on this trip, and coming together in this synchronous of a way, she was basically losing her mind with excitement. 

After visiting the various ticket resale sites and paying a prettier penny than desired for a couple of seats in the second to last row, we had our itinerary for the day and the week settled out. We decided to keep our original lunch plans, so going to the Bills game meant we would miss out on a dinner of Kansas City barbecue. Missing out on a chance to experience the famed dish, being as big of a barbecue fan as Julie is, seemed sacrilege, but getting to see the Bills go against the Chiefs in person with a trip to the Super Bowl on the line seemed like one of the few acceptable reasons to miss out on it. 

When we arrived at Arrowhead stadium 2 hours in advance of game time, it was a full on scene and we were so psyched to be a part of it. Julie used the opportunity to bake cookies while we watched sports pundits yammer on in debates about the Bills, the Chiefs, Allen and Mahomes and what this game would mean for each of them. We didn’t find the commentary all that compelling, but wanted to listen to it just to be in the spirit of it all in our spot amongst the thousands in the lot. We had no Bills garb with us, but we had our winter jackets with us from when we volunteered for the World Games in Lake Placid 2 years prior. The jackets were not only what we needed to keep warm, but they had the phrase, “I love NY” embroidered on their arm and their blue color with slight hues of red were enough to make it clear amongst the throngs of fans whose side we were on.

Prior to the game we visited the National World War I Museum and Memorial, as did many people decked out in Bills and Chiefs gear. One of the most profound things we learned was that, in essence, World War I grew out of a worldwide surge of extreme nationalism – people identifying and cheering for their cultural “teams”. Having a strong cultural identity and pride for your national team can be a beautiful thing, but early in the 20th century it led people the world over to march into each other’s countries and start killing each other.

It was poignant to be in a museum dedicated to national team spirit run amok and seeing people wearing opposing team jerseys, all proud of their teams, all enthusiastically ready to cheer for them, and all completely at peace and getting along with each other just fine. It was like a piece of living art, showing that these human tendencies towards team spirit can be channeled in a dark and destructive way, or in a fun and constructive way. There was no bad blood in that museum, other than what was shown in the pictures from a century ago. Julie found herself feeling hope that this example of healthy team spirit collectively reflecting on what that same human tendency can devolve into could be a harbinger of hope, that humanity could learn the lesson and turn violent nationalism into the joys and camaraderie of friendly competition. 

Outside the museum we saw two fully decked out Chiefs fans cross pathswith a jersey-clad Bills fan.. “Good luck today, brother,” one of the Chiefs said with a sincere smile while extending his fist for a fist-bump. “Thanks. You too,” the Bills fan said as he completed the fist-bump.

This spirit of friendly competition continued right on to the game. When we arrived, the parking lot was filled to the brim with tens of thousands of fans, some dressed in Buffalo blue and more dressed in Kansas City red. There were multiple spots of Bills and Chiefs fans tailgating together. The closest thing to animosity or violence we saw was a playful effigy of a Bills jersey-wearing skeleton hanging outside a lively tailgate. That was as dark as it got. 

As we lined up in the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd to get into the game, we struck up warm conversations with Chiefs fans who could tell from our blue jackets who we were there to root for. There was nothing but civility and congeniality despite the fierce and feverish loyalty all present felt to their respective teams as they went to meet on the field. When a Bills player was injured, all the fans equally stood up with respectful claps as the player was escorted off the field. There is a place for civility and camaraderie to exist on a human scale even while the spirit of team and competition fills the air. As for the game itself, well, up until the Bill’s last drive down the field, it was a blast. Even after that, it was a great time, despite the pain. 

And the pain is very real. When all was said and done and the victors were triumphantly receiving their trophy on the field, we lingered for just a bit. The crowds in the upper decks had thinned out. We turned to leave midway through the ceremony and saw a set of Bills fans one row behind us across the aisle in the very last row. There was an older gentleman standing there stone-faced. It is difficult to describe the look on his face, but the best word to approximate it was heartbroken. We tried to reach out in the shared experience. “It hurts, doesn’t it?” He looked at us like he was being snapped out of a trance, like he was struggling to speak without breaking down into tears. You could see the effort he was using to keep it bottled up. He finally got some words out about the technical elements of the play. Before long, we could tell this man was not in a state to talk and we cordially wished them well and moved along. Yes, the disappointment and devastation for the vanquished is very real. But still, it is not measured in body bags and limbs lost and lives and communities given over to the pain and destruction of war, as illustrated at the World War I Museum. It was a powerful juxtaposition in one day.

We came to have a quintessential Missouri experience, and that we did. While we left the evening feeling the hurt of a dropped pass and the familiar sensation of “almost there” and “so close” that every Buffalo Bills fan knows so well, the lasting part was the joy and warmth of an awesome experience that was a total blast and a gratitude and hope that maybe humanity can learn how to keep the spirit of camaraderie and friendly competition alive.