I cried during my first Bills game. Not b/c they lost or how they played, but I couldn't understand what was going on and why all those people were there.
Mind you it was 1975 and I was only 6 years old, and my only previous memory of the Bills was OJ going over 2,000 yards, but I knew I was safe with my dad, and that was comforting.
My father was a season ticket holder from game one in 1960 and over 48 years I believe he only missed a handful of games. For the greater part of 33 years I went to games with my father and we bickered and cheered all the way.
On our way home after the the home finale against the Giants in 2007, we did our normal post game commentary including the fact that we thought the Giants were "going places" during the post season. As we drew close to home for some reason I jokingly mentioned to him that you never know, that could be his last Bills game.
...It was. He died of Leukemia less than 4 months later.
I'll never, EVER forget the memories my father and I shared together watching football and how they were a common bond for us when we couldn't agree on so many other things. Even in a family of 7, it was just he and I when it came to the Bills.
...I do so wish they would have won the Super Bowl just once while he was here.
Until they do, though, I know he will always be right there with me, cheering (or jeering) them on.
Go Bills.