From the sections of Highmark Stadium closest to the field, you can often see the tiny, faraway silhouettes of the people watching from the railing atop Section 337, Section 338 and the even more distant stadium "corner" of Section 339.
Up close, in their passion, those fans help define a franchise. Saturday night, in subzero wind chills, these stalwarts included Cherie Stern, a Lockport hotel manager, and her son Rich. They were not far from LeRoy Reid Jr., a Cheektowaga pastor who showed up with his 32-year-old son Remington.
Nearby was Alexander Gonschor, a Buffalo Bills fan from Minden, Germany, whose Uncle Tim drove him to the game from Erie, Pa., then waited it out in his car, heat on, while his nephew savored the contest.
Jose Kaltenborn and Geoffrey Daniul, two 18-year-old buddies from suburban Syracuse, made the decision to go Friday over a plate of Buffalo chicken tenders and ended up in the absolute highest corner of 339. Frankie Perez, a New England Patriots fan from Chicago, made the drive with his girlfriend, his sister and his cousin because $40 for a playoff ticket was just too good to pass up.
They sat a few rows away from Troy Lemiszko Jr. and his construction worker dad of the same name, both wearing warm Josh Allen ski masks purchased outside the stadium, caps so new the tags were still attached. On a night so cold that many beers turned into slushies before fans put them to their mouths, all of that loyalty underlined the thesis of Rochester financial adviser Ethan McKenney, who has season tickets near the top because “you’re always with the people who really want to be there.”
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As for me, I bought a $50 ticket in 338, then put on multiple layers that included the 50-year-old “Blizzard-Pruf” work suit my old man used to wear while breaking up frozen coal at a Niagara Mohawk plant next to Lake Erie. I also stuck a handful of pencils in the pocket, because I learned long ago that ink freezes.
Thus prepared, I set out to capture what inspired such Bills fans as the Reids, father and son, to grab distant seats in arctic conditions. LeRoy, pastor of Grace Family Bible Church, said he goes to see the Bills a few times each year. Earlier this season, he joined some family at a road game in Jacksonville because it seemed like the result would be a certain Buffalo win.
Great Game, Great win, great flag stop on top of Highmark Stadium. Go #Buffalo #Bills. @seankirst @JenG217 @gmfb @BuffaloBills @weather_buffalo @SalSports @CaptainBuffalo @kirst_liam @kevinbowen51 @kevdeese @KimPegula @BuffRumblings pic.twitter.com/jE9iCDC52a
— Bo Didlee (@deejbobbydee) January 16, 2022
LeRoy laughed at what happened to his own assumption, after the Bills lost 9-6. Fortunately, consolation was waiting. He and Remington – a name LeRoy and wife Pamela gave their kid to reflect a sense of steel – had never seen a playoff game together. Friday, for $20 apiece, they bought tickets, and father and son – simply thrilled to be there – spontaneously embraced when Dawson Knox stretched out Saturday night for the touchdown catch that ignited an offensive bonfire.
“Cold?” LeRoy asked. “I grew up at Utica and Jefferson, and we used to play football in the street all day, running through the snow on that pavement, and we never got cold.” It left him thinking of his own dad, the late LeRoy Sr., a skilled mechanic who embraced the Bills – and who would have loved to be among the 69,188 who had tickets to see the long Patriots hex so thoroughly shattered.
Canadian-born Christopher Lesko's allegiance to the Buffalo Bills overlapped with his affection for the city.
The only part of the 4-degree weather that got to many of those fans was the throbbing ache in their toes, which led a group of strangers-turned-into-friends in 339 to stick out their feet and start comparing the warmth of their boots.
The legacy and passage of a Bills-loving dad was also on the minds of Cherie Stern and Rich, her 19-year-old son, who is studying sports management. He was so eager to go to the playoffs that he bought tickets online a week ago for $150 a pop, before the frigid outlook caused prices to plunge.
“This was a nice mother-son experience,” Cherie said, adding that one of her many layers of clothing consisted of a knitted Bills sweatshirt long owned by her dad, Walter Potocki, who worked at General Motors, loved the Bills and died more than 20 years ago.
“We brought a little of his grandfather into this,” she said of being at Highmark on a cold night with her son.
McKenney and John Propis, a fan who flipped handwarmers to anyone in need, both said there are gifts from being up so high: It is particularly beneficial in the way you see a play develop, such as when Allen dropped back and the whole section realized Emmanuel Sanders, wide open, would be there for a touchdown even before the quarterback released the ball.
It should also be said – civic leaders, take note – that these sections almost certainly represent many seats that would disappear if stadium seating does shrink, as proposed, in its next incarnation.
That little community up high had a spectrum of different takes on where a new stadium should go, or whether it should be domed. LeRoy Reid, who recalls hearing cheers from the old Rockpile from the door of his childhood home, said a domed stadium in the city is the only way to go. He had plenty of support, while others, like Lemiszko, argued for open air and an Orchard Park location.
If there was a consensus, it was this: Cold, you can deal with. The worst game-day weather is when it rains like mad, which left more than a few of the regulars thinking, well, retractably.
Being a Patriots fan in a sea of Bills jerseys caused Perez, visiting from Chicago, to witness both extremes of human nature. He chatted happily and knowledgeably with a Buffalo fan next to him throughout the game, but he also dealt with the occasional intoxicated stranger who would see his Tom Brady Patriots jersey and curse or stick a middle digit in his face.
In the end, he was glad his girlfriend Lysette, joined by his sister and a cousin, witnessed a playoff game for such a modest price, and he said the drive – while worth it – was proof of a football reality:
"Everything comes to an end," Perez said of the Patriots dynasty.
Bobby Deese, a Florida guy who has carried a Bills flag to such famous spots as the Eiffel Tower and the Coliseum, made a stop Saturday at a spot closer to home, deserving of acclaim: The peak of Section 339. Even so, few journeys at Highmark rivaled Gonschor's. He is a coach of the Minden Wolves in Germany, whose Facebook page asks: “Ihr wollt American Football in Minden spielen?!”
Roughly interpreted, it means, "This is your chance to play American football for Minden," which models its offense after the Bills, a team Gonschor reveres.
Sitting up high was also fine with Kaltenborn and Daniul, seniors at Central New York's West Genesee and Westhill high schools who understand they will go separate ways for college. Bill Mertz, Kaltenborn’s grandfather, is a Buffalo native and a fierce Bills fan. The two teens carried that loyalty to Orchard Park and made it home to Syracuse at 3 a.m. It was their first Buffalo game on their own, a celebration of friendship they will not forget.
High school buddies Jose Kaltenborn (left) and Geoffrey Daniul, near the top of Section 339.
From the top of 339, which offers a glimpse of the distant skyline, I saw plenty to remember. Just about no one sat down, since there was no view to block. Almost every arm in the section would jut into the cold air to signal a Buffalo first down, and fans twisted and bounced into a frenzy of dancing when the words of “Shout!” rolled up toward their seats, especially after lineman Tommy Doyle scored a touchdown that put a joyous Buffalo cap on the night.
Bit by bit, as the rout went deep into the second half, many near the top moved down or decided it was time to leave, until it was just Cherie Stern and her son Rich in one little section of 338. Maybe from the glamour seats near the field, no one could see them, but from where they sat on this night of nights?
They owned the house.
