BRUCE 

I took a hub out of Syracuse. It would have been easier just to drive but I had the air miles in the bank and I was still tired. I landed in Buffalo at 6AM. It was unseasonably cold and bright for a fall morning. I took a cab downtown and sat it out at a diner nursing coffee and leafing through a book until a decent hour where I would then call Marty. I was seated under an ancient heater that’s gusts spared me from the punishing winds of outside. I never brought warm enough clothing on these trips upstate. I called at exactly ten AM. I imagined Marty still loafing around in a robe and slippers. His was a world of newspapers, eggs and coffee. I knew Marty wasn’t religious or anything, so church was likely off the table.

“Hello”

“Hey Marty, it’s Glenn. I came in a day early. I was hoping we could get together today”

“Glenn! Good! Yes, however the Bills are playing tonight, It’s a big game. pretty serious around here. I go over Teddys for the games. I could ask if i can bring you, but the crew can be a little testy about that sort of thing.”

“Hmm, well, I certainly don’t want to impose”
“No, Not at all. Why don’t you head over here and I’ll call him.” “Ok, sounds good, I’ll hop in a cab and be there in 30 or so”
I paid for my coffee, and left the large waitress a nice tip.

Martys house has a familiarity about it even though I’ve only been here twice. His wife was a nice woman who always had to leave as soon as I saw her. Marty paid no attention to her behavior. He had two kids, one out of the house likely in college, the other immersed in the universe of their social life. Marty had time on his hands.

I ate two cold pancakes and we caught up over the last few months. He excitedly told me about the comings and goings of his office, new furniture additions and other accouterments he proudly displayed to me like an eager docent. He gestured toward a case of Beaujolais, wanting me to be impressed by his dealing in wine by the case. It made me aware of the fact that I came over completely empty handed.

“So I talked to Teddy, he’s fine with you coming over. But’s a bit of a boys club, you see.” “Oh, well that sounds fun. I’m not much for football, but it will be nice to meet the guys.” “Yeah, just, you’ll see. they take the whole thing quite seriously.”
“Like screaming at the TV?”

“No, not quite. They’re obsessed. It’s like they’re connected. They really get into it. We all do. More than just a game. I don’t know. You’ll see. Just keep an open mind is all.”

Martys wife came back in and gave me a quick greeting before realizing she forgot to get something at Wegmans and scurried off. On her way out she asked if I needed anything.

“All set. thanks”

The afternoon had quickly approached and vanished. For lunch, Marty prepared crude beef and bread sandwiches, locally known as ‘Beef on Weck’. A side of chips and a pickle

complemented the entreé and it actually turned out quite lovely. At four o clock the light was beginning to fade.

At five we got into Marty’s honda. I asked If I should leave my bag in the car or in the house, hoping I would ease my way into a ride to the hotel on the return trip. He obliged and popped the trunk.

We took what felt like a long, windy, highwayless drive to his friend Teddys house. It stood in a settled neighborhood. It was a tudor, which had a deceivingly small exterior. Two cars were in the driveway and two on the street. We parked in front of the neighbors house and walked up the walkway lit by lamps giving off yellow light. It was just before six in the evening but felt like ten or eleven.

We walked right in the house without ringing the doorbell. No one on the ground floor came to greet us, no dog barking or cats peering. Marty walked with the confidence of having been here many times. He led me right into the basement. Which of course, made me imagine that they had a finished basement where we would enjoy the game.

Upon entering the basement it was barren. A few lightbulbs hung from the exposed beams, Cement floors, and a nicely built work bench that was at least forty years old and a few paint cans. Marty led us to a small metal door, maybe five feet tall. We crouched as we walked through. That led us to a long, narrow hallway. I felt a pang of fear as I realized this was becoming off-putting. The floor of the hallway was made of wooden slats, of an ambiguous nature. I felt the movement of water below the slats, some kind of underground river. There was a dankness to this corridor that lent the feeling of the presence of water. I took comfort in Martys confidence in movement. The hallway led to a short stairwell, also quite old and poorly lit. From there we came upon a small cement room. Maybe eight feet by eight feet. It was musty and damp. Marty lifted a panel in the floor which exposed a hole maybe two by two feet. there was a lightbulb at the top of the opening. He gave it a half twist and it lit up the entryway. He smiled at me and silently began climbing down the metal rungs. I followed immediately, only taking comfort in my proximity to Marty.

I looked down from the top of the opening and about 25 feet below there was light and the murmur of a television set. This was our destination. This was the viewing room. They had postered the wall with pictured of athletes, former or current players of the Buffalo Bills either in motion or stoically staring into the distance. The TV was small, maybe 18 inches, connected to a rats nest of wires, which proved fitting considering we must be at least 60 feet below the ground floor. The television wasn’t especially nice. Considering the neighborhood and the Tudor I had imagined a big screen. Marty took two folding chairs that were leaning against the wall and set them both up for him and I.

Teddy nodded at us but did not get up from his chair. Two other men sat who did not acknowledge us at all. I did a close mouthed smile whenever I felt motion from anyone else. About ten minutes later I was startled by another man repel down the metal rung ladder into the room. He saw me immediately and said “New Guy” in a neutral tone. Then followed suit and opened a chair for himself.

When the game started two announcers came on screen and began to talk up the evenings competition. Teddy stood and lowered the volume to zero. He did a half twist on the bulb above the television, dimming the room nicely. There was a somber, heavy mood among the men. Everyone but me rose and held hands in a small circle in front of the television. I sat motionless observing the men enter into a prayer:

“We are Buffalo” “We see the victory”

“Buffalo is All”
The men said in unison. They continued,
“Football is infinite”
“May Buffalo be guided on the path of victory”
“Our opposition is already defeated”
“Buffalo is All”
the four grown men then leaned their heads in, pressing foreheads together, still holding hands. “Buffalo is All”
They held the position inward. Teddys hairless head touching the other mens.

The two teams on the screen began assembling into kickoff formations. The four men in the room sat down in the folding chairs. Teddy raised the volume and gave the bulb the appropriate half twist. They stared at the screen silently. I didn’t dare say anything as the air had turned into a grave seriousness.

Early in the first quarter Buffalo was on the move and in position to score. A short pass, and a huge effort from the running back, led to the early lead of 7-0 Buffalo over Dallas. The Men rose in unison,

“Buffalo is All”

The one line of the chant ended their celebration. At first I wondered if I should attempt to join them. But they were quite serious. I spend the remainder of the game cross legged in the folding chair, hardly moving at all. After the score, the game went to commercial break. From one of the men, a bag of plain potato chips emerged. He passed it around and everyone took a few chips, gobbled them quickly while passing the bag. I realized this was in effort to not interrupt the game when it returned in any way. And I was right. Teddy hastily brought the bag of chips to the floor seconds before the game proceeded.

The Bills defense let up a few yards here and there but was overall pretty stout with their givings. The drive ended with a sack from the Bills star tight end, Bruce Smith. This forced Dallas to punt. A submission, if you will. The men rose again and gave each other intent stares and choreographed high fives. Apparently there was a completely separate ceremony for defensive successes. Teddy turned toward me, his huge lumbering frame, and gave me a painful high five. He then flipped his lower lip out into my line of sight. He silently revealed to me a tattoo on his inner lip which read:

BRUUUUCE
The men once again began chanting in a unison crescendo

bruce. bruce. bruce. BRUCE. BRUCE. BRUCE. BRUUUCE. BRUUUUUCE.

The final ‘bruce’ held out for about fifteen full, maddening seconds. It was cut off in perfect unison, as if by an invisible choral conductor. The men quickly sat in a simultaneously. All of

their movements in concert. This act must have been rehearsed. The Bills were able to turn their next possession into a field goal, which led to a repeat performance of the mens initial scoring celebratory chants. Flawless choreography. However, at the beginning of the second quarter Dallas responded with a field goal of their own. There was no ritual or ceremony for the opponents gain. In fact, the four men increased their focus and intensity on the television. They were even more motionless as Dallas put their points on the board.

We continued watching the game in silence. We fell into a pattern. Each score and defensive success by Buffalo led to the unison chanting and repeat ceremony that the action called for. The four men stood, sat and spoke in unison time and again. All the while I sat expressionless, hoping they would be convinced that I found their actions to be normal.

I was both happy and relieved that the Bills gave Dallas a drubbing which resulted in a 31-10 victory.
I was surprised to find there was no closing ceremony. The coaches and players took to the field in a sportsmanship display of handshakes, butt slapping, jumping and high fives. The programs announcers complemented the winners, chastised the losers before the channel began playing sitcoms. The men in the viewing room took their chairs at random, folded them, placed them against the wall and ascended into the upper realms of the basement. Finally Marty motioned toward me to leave. This was the first gesture out of sync with the pageantry that had been on display until now. I watched Teddy turn the TV off, give a half screw to the remaining lightbulbs which dimmed the room significantly, instantly making it uncomfortable. I remembered I was in a strange place. We wordlessly began to climb out of the depths. Again-I stuck near to Marty, feeling safer by each rung and step as we approached the entrance to the initial basement. When we finally came to the foyer of Teddys house, he looked at me. Something had switched in him.

“Pleasure to meet you, Glenn. Anybody that’s a friend of Martys’s’ a friend of mine. I bet he was a hoot back in college. I’m sure you have stories about him up the yin yang. heh heh. Until next time..”

Teddy offered his handshake, I was slightly hesitant, but obliged. Having been slapped violently in a high five just hours ago.

Marty and I got into his Honda and he assured me he knew right where my hotel was. He was talking normally again.

“Boy, they look good this year. I think this could be the team. You know Teddy has a boat and if you ever come here in the summer we have to get you on it.”

Marty said nothing of the other men and their actions involving the football game. The prayers, chants, unison movements. Nothing. We took the same windy surface roads until I began to recognize the area surrounding Buffalo Proper. A sign on a fast-food restaurant read : Bills Win! free personal pie with purchase of full size meal.

Marty assured me he would meet me for lunch after my lecture and see me off at the airport tomorrow. He had Mondays off, he told me twice.

-Timothy Norton

November 22’