By John Wingspread Howell
By the
time the Buffalo Braves of the NBA left Buffalo, I had already left myself.
It didn't matter. It still broke my heart. I mean it BROKE my heart. Think lost first love. Think jilted
by your soulmate. Think never getting over it, stalking your ex-lover two
decades, three decades later, never to love again. That's what it still is like
for me. But what I'm learning is that I'm not that alone.
It may have hurt those of us who have moved away harder than those who stayed. I think it's because when you leave a place, you want it to freeze in
your mind just the way it was when you last saw it. For instance, you go away
to college. You come home for Thanksgiving and find your Mom has redecorated
your room.
So I
left town, thinking the Braves, like the Bills and Sabres, would always be
there for me whenever I came back, thinking I could watch them on TV or see
them play as the visiting team, in the city I was living in at the time, and I'd
always be able to be a part of home by following the Braves.
I loved
the Bills and Sabres also, in spite of myself, but the Braves were my special
crush. At the time, basketball was my sport. I'd felt so deprived that Buffalo
didn't have a team. And then we did.
When
the NBA expanded to Buffalo in 1970, I sat by the radio listening to every
Braves game that wasn't on TV and watched every game that was. In '73 my
best friend got a job as a stats runner for the Braves. I went to college in
Oklahoma but whenever I could make it back for a game, he got me a press pass
to sit courtside. I'm actually quite visible in a Buffalo Evening News action photo of the Braves vs. Hawks in
December of that year. It was their first winning season--and playoff year.
I
remember the great Braves teams---those three great seasons when they were in
the thick of the playoffs, could have easily won it all, with legends like
McAdoo, DiGregorrio, McMillain, and Randy Smith (though Gar Heard was my
favorite) against the likes of the Celtics and the Knicks, posting
forty-nine-win seasons, before the team was sold for salvage and then hauled off.
By the
way, part of me is glad the Clippers only barely made the playoffs twice in
their post-Buffalo history. Part of me still follows them, knowing they might
be the perfect team for a guy like me. Born in Buffalo, lost since leaving.
It is
that part of me that still feels a sick affinity with the Clippers in spite of
everything, that also keeps me forever bonded to the teams that never left (and
may they never), and the town they continue to represent. I've lived in Chicago
now longer than I lived in Buffalo. Other than a year after college and seven
years after that in Rochester and Syracuse, I've lived away from Bills Country.
But Bills vs. Bears is no contest for my loyalty. I don't even feel a little
torn. Sabres/Blackhawks, even less. Bulls/Clippers? Now that's probably a draw,
but for obvious reasons.
Of
course an old Braves fan feels quite at home cheering for the NBA Bulls since
our first Center was a Chicago retread. Remember Bob Kaufman? Plus there was
something likeable about the guys who played for the Bulls back in the early
seventies. Guys with names like Love and Boerwinkle. But I digress.
I
discovered groups for Bills Fans & Sabres Fans on Linked-In and started
posting messages and contacting people. I was not surprised to find that a
majority of the people in those groups no longer live in Western New York. Like
me, they seemed to be obsessed with all things Buffalo - sports especially.
And, just like me, many of them haven't gotten over losing the Braves.
I've
since discovered there are several websites dedicated to the
Braves with a
lot of great photos, old news clips, stats and trivia, and I've shared them
with my fellow Linked ex-pats. These sites are Ex-pat Heartbreak Heaven. It is
so much fun, albeit emotional, to walk down that virtual memory lane. For one
thing, it gives me another way to stalk my rejecting lover.
Which brings me back to the original question. Why is it so hard to move on? The more I think about it, the more I'm convinced I'm right; it's the redecorated bedroom syndrome.
John
Wingspread Howell is the author of three novels, a columnist, theologian,
poet, psychologist, political advocate, and in his day job--a financial
strategist with Northwestern Mutual. A Buffalo native, he currently lives
in Chicago. He publishes the website: www.BuffaloEx-Pat.com
"Born in Buffalo, lost since leaving."
"Think never getting over it, stalking your ex-lover two decades, three decades later, never to love again. That's what it still is like for me."
Mr. Howell, in addition to your continuing poor command of grammar and sentence structure even though you stick to your claim of being a writer, poet, etc., you sound like a suicidal 16-year old in need of real therapy. This 'article' is, expectedly, filled with heaping spoonfuls of platitudes and is more appropriate for an adolescent magazine like Boy's Life.
Sorry, BRO, but this article is just as disturbing as Mr. Howell's first attempt. We know there is one more submission coming from Mr. Howell; hopefully, it will be the last.