I have been a Buffalonian, a wing devourer and a Bills believer for only half of my life. It was an early December morning more than 25 years ago. The cab was making its way towards downtown as I peered out of the window. The spires and rooftops beyond the high embankment looked gloomy against a cold dark sky. "So what are some good places here?" I gingerly asked. "Buffalo?" the cab driver said. "Churches and bars this time of the year." "So the Spirit and spirits?" I replied.
