...any given sunday????

Whether I shall turn out to be the hero of my own life, or whether that station will be held by anybody else, these pages must show...(the opening lines of David Copperfield as written by Charles Dickens;inspired by MTM). Or at least this ACCOUNT will, perhaps, have a reflection on whether I'm going to be the hero in my own life.


...Cause sometimes we don't really notice
Just how good it can get
So maybe we should start all over
Start all over again Someday Rob Thomas

From those bellicose days of the early 1990's, when everyone of Them were worshiped
as gods, to now, where at best, they may warrant an afterthought around the Monday
Morning water cooler. Such is the current level of attention and consideration
commanded by the National Football League Buffalo Bills football club. In mentioning
the Buffalo Bills, the N F L affiliation is displayed as a reminder of what the Bills
organization represents. It is a major league football franchise.

The early 1990's were some pretty 'heady' days of that bygone era, the era that
included an egotistical quarterback as its field-general. Of course, while the
nay-sayers were stacking-the-deck with derisive remarks against him, even before he had taken his first snap, there were others, with a clarity-of-vision, that saw all that was needed to be seen~~~a WINNER.

Can any of that era, be recaptured??? One must understand that this early-1990s era,
was legendary; almost mystical. The outcomes of many of the games defied rational
thought. As a Hollywood-script, it would have been returned as a rework; too-far-fetched.

But for four years, through the performance of this field-general on the offense, and a defense anchored by linebackers that were the creme de la creme of that period, and special teams that had a smallish, white, lunatic running around like a ping-pong ball, this football club, went to the SHOW~~~four consecutive times!!! The mystique---took on its own mystique. Did Fate just will this string of appearances, to be??

As the years have passed and with it, the sobriety of reality, the iconoclastic
reverence of this era, is again reinforced. To get one chance to appear at THE SHOW
seems, an unreachable star. How did these men, gods, do it four times in a row, no less. There was even that one moment, in the beginning, where there might have been
suggested that the field-general was less than a god, when he overthrew Ronny Harmon.
But that concern ended up being dismissed in the frailty of human-error as
officially-scored that Ronnie Harmon dropped the ball that was thrown...well over his head.

Can any of this Fate; this phenomenon, be recaptured?? Not a prayer's chance in hell.
There is no mystique. There is no aura. What currently exists aren't even replicas; facsimiles thereof. There was a time when these gods had the captive audience. Not
anymore. In an era of unemployment, underemployment, and other socio-economic setbacks, avoiding dark-clouds, is now part of the Day-Planner. These are multi-million
dollar primadonnas that, at best, are semi-pro calibre athletes.

Ron Jaworski's Lackawanna Steelers could beat these guys on Any Given Sunday.
--{-=@
Hickok
The Promise