Another Title Anything But Routine for Buffalo Bandits
I had to buy another championship shirt. Thanks a lot, favorite team. Incessant shopping is such a hassle. The Buffalo Bandits have to sew relevant information onto another banner, which seems like a tricky project. And they had to update the sign with the championship year. Eh: there may be worse things than getting another number.
Buffalo is New York’s lacrosse capital. Albany can have their narcissistic twits taking your money to tell you how to live, and we’ll have Tehoka. The Erie Canal Bowl resulted in shipping the Cup in one definite direction. The league’s flagship franchise is winning like it, which is sweet news for those seeking precedent for things working out like they should for once.
Commemorate the first time since the first time. Fans revel in a rather rare event, namely the second consecutive title accumulation since the first and second seasons. The Bandits are back to back-to-back.
All you pessimists didn’t think the most awesome outcome imaginable was possible just a couple months ago. Someone as inherently cheerfully positive as me certainly wasn’t grumpy about any midseason losses. I also think this universe is a blessing that’s all planned for happiness ever since late Saturday.
Cool professors weigh end of semester results more heavily than confusing early classes. Better grades toward the end show accelerated learning upon familiarity with the subject. The Bandits learned and adapted. They’re the same team that started the season with occasionally shaky performances yet different. Answer a zen riddle with wooing about winning.
It turns out the finish is the most important part. The NLL is just another sports outfit that focuses on results. It’s so predictable. They only honor the top competitor. There’s exactly one important time for comparing scores. It happens at the very end.
The Bandits are an apology. One other neighborhood team is competitive while the other is dreadful while both share the common characteristic of never winning the league’s final game. They alternate every couple years. Variety doesn’t always improve circumstances.
The Bills and Sabres oscillate between crushing dreams by getting close and being so inept that toxic waste spills ask to not be compared to them. Meanwhile, Buffalo’s RC Cola wins it all again.
A year that ended with a title started off feeling like an eclipse season. Clouds at the most inopportune time led to naturally thinking an event rarer than a Buffalo championship would be a letdown. But our planet’s star and satellite burst through overcast skies at the moment of totality. The lesson was not that things failed to work out but rather that we just had to persevere through trepidation. The Bandits shined like plasma.
Nobody could’ve been too disappointed if this season ended like it began. A lack of cohesion early in the campaign seemed to be leading toward making us cherish 2023. Memories of a dreamlike run through the postseason might’ve been what sustained us through the offseason. They do, but they’re blessedly from a couple days ago instead of nearly a year.
The only misstep was not waiting a few days to officially rejoice. Partying before midnight until after noon would make Andrew W.K. proud. But hosting a bash before sweeping up confetti from the night before was, in the words of Gilbert Gottfried’s epitaph, too soon. Holding a congregation the afternoon after the win means the faithful didn’t even have a chance to finish expiring celebratory liquor before it turned sour.
The assembly held one short sleep after the season ended came at a time for those who thought last year’s weekday 5 p.m. bacchanalia wasn’t positioned oddly enough. Hangovers still hadn’t set in. Festive attendees of the season finale could’ve stayed out all night, gotten breakfast late into their personal days, then mulled around the plaza until the players showed up like a matinee following a night game.
What was the rush? Social media comments about the gala include some from rueful backers who are rightfully bummed out that they missed posts about a shindig that one might think would be scheduled after a slight subsiding of the immediate hullabaloo. I’m attempting to refrain from kvetching about ownership right now, but a Pegula-style screwup hindering the jubilation around their one ultimately successful franchise is on brand.
I felt lucky to have noticed they were convening. As a reminder, always check social media constantly in case a team you admire wins it all and invited all their fans to live it up with them soon after.
My personal rally policy is to appear at any gathering in commemoration of a Buffalo club prevailing in an athletic tournament. You may have noticed it’s rarely applicable. Going annually is a relatively frequent pace, so your daughter will understand if you skip her wedding. Move the ceremony to the front of the French Connection statue.
It’s better to show up on the back of a fire truck than in the back of a cop car. Players demonstrated their skill at disembarking from engines serving as chariots for victors, which might be even tricker than scoring in a clinching game. Everyone thankfully reached the ground safely before traveling through a most appreciative crowd then converging on stage to gleefully cuss in between lager swigs and cigar puffs. This roster knows carousing like they do conquering.
I could get used to this. The habit of filling a case with shiny metal sculpted into triumphant shapes is a delight that should never be taken for granted. We spent 15 years waiting for last year’s glorious result, so this interregnum was a blink.
Overindulging in elation is fine for the moments after your beloved wins it all. I’m trying to avoid feeling too depressed, which is why I’m not going to tally how many seasons of teams I like began with dreams of supremacy before ending like a mob torching.
Nobody in Buffalo needs to be told those other two squads are still on the list like they’re trying to get a Trabant in East Germany. The Bandits have Ian MacKay, while the others sit in the waiting room as described by Fugazi frontman Ian MacKaye. As part of my newfangled commitment to positivity while I’m still buzzing from the commissioner leaving hardware in town, I’m avoiding wallowing in obvious comparisons to the city’s other teams. I will just say the Bandits offer a good example.
Winning a ring for the other hand inspires almost as much pride as no Bandit ever winning the league’s sportsmanship award. The thrill remains intense even when there’s a recent example of pure bliss. Nothing’s lighter to lift than a heavy trophy.
