To visit every NFL stadium in 16 weeks is a pretty ambitious goal, but to do it while driving a 1967 VW Bus affectionately named Hail Mary is by most people's accounts crazy.
I grew up a huge football fan in Austin, Texas and it is true what they say: everything is bigger in Texas. The Dallas Cowboys to me were larger than life characters and even the Houston Oilers were better than most teams in my eyes because they were from Texas. This isn't to boast about my arrogance, but more to set the stage for my ignorance.
The teams of the NFL represent the majority of America. Some might be in more glamorous destinations like San Francisco, San Diego, Chicago and Miami, while others represent less than football nirvana like Cleveland and Buffalo. I thought that the former cities on my tour were destination stops, while the latter represented cities and teams that had to be endured just to say we had been there, done that and bought the t-shirt.
This is about the time I show my ignorance. Buffalo changed my life, and if it wasn't the best stop on my tour around the NFL it is definitely in the top three. Incidentally, that top three includes Cleveland as well. Dallas, despite having a modern engineering marvel for a stadium finished near the bottom of the list but this article isn't about ranking tailgates or stadiums. This is about Buffalo, specifically Hammer's Lot.
I was introduced to a guy in Buffalo they call Hammer by two other football fans who had made the trip around the NFL the year before. Their only advice was Hammer's Lot was a must. Without knowing much about Buffalo other than that recommendation I made arrangements to meet Hammer and his lot the night before the game. I wasn't going to Buffalo with visions of grandeur or for a life changing experience. At the most I was hoping Hammer's Lot would make going to a Bills game tolerable.
Ralph Wilson Stadium where the Bills play is one of only two stadiums in the NFL that are in neighborhoods of rural towns. We drove past the stadium on our way to Hammer's Lot and as I looked over to see the home of a historic NFL franchise I thought to myself that high schools in Texas had bigger stadiums. Honestly, that isn't much of an exaggeration if at all.
It was the night before the game so a few people were in the lot. It was obvious that everyone knew each other and that this was a family. Not a biological family but a football family. One guy was the manager of an adult entertainment venue in Buffalo while the other was a professor at a local college. They may be different socioeconomically but these people had become more than friends, they had somehow become related and all because of the Buffalo Bills.
A man dressed in a Bills jersey and cap with a beard approached Hail Mary as if he had been expecting us. Logic would dictate that this was the legendary Hammer. This person however introduced himself as "Pinto Ron" or "Ketchup Kenny." He showed us where to park, informed us that Hammer would be with us shortly and to make ourselves at home. Behind him was an old red Ford Pinto station wagon. Judging from the way it looked I had no confidence in the Pinto making it around Ralph Wilson Stadium, much less outside of Buffalo. For once on this trip I felt like we had someone beat in the transportation department. Pinto Ron or Ketchup Kenny however wasn't trying to circumvent the country to every NFL stadium. That task was up to us and Hail Mary.
The Pinto was the elephant in the room at the tailgate so Pinto Ron began to tell the story of the car, including the statistic that he hadn't missed a Bills game, home or away, for the last 25 years. The upside is he has been to four Super Bowls. Downside is the Bills lost all four of those Super Bowls.
Pinto Ron told us what a Bills tailgate looked like at Hammer's Lot. He referenced the Pinto, showed us the jug of milk from the first Bills Super Bowl and how he actually cooks on top of the vehicle. Bacon on top of a saw, a helmet for stir-fry, taking shots out of a bowling ball. He then confirmed the legend of Ketchup Kenny. Pinto Ron at one time had a hamburger with nothing on it and asked his friends who were tailgating with him if they had any ketchup. His friends began to douse him with ketchup, getting some on his barren hamburger but the majority of the contents of the ketchup bottle on Pinto Ron himself. A tradition was born and at a certain time during Bills tailgates Pinto Ron is magically transformed into Ketchup Kenny thanks to the countless tailgaters armed with ketchup bottles.
Later in the day we got to meet Hammer, who greeted us with open arms. Hammer is a hard working blue-collar person, typical of the people you'll find in Buffalo. His voice and mannerisms exude the pride he has in owning the lot where so many congregate before Bills' games. The open field lays dormant most of the year but on eight Sundays in the Fall it magically transforms into a tailgating mecca.
I started to take a nap in Hammer's Lot beside Hail Mary. I don't know if it was exhaustion from being on the road for over a month or being content with my life in Buffalo. I was awakened by the sound of tailgaters getting ready for the game, kids playing football, and a dog's wet nose checking to see if I was alive or dead. The brakes on Hail Mary would go out as we were driving somewhere in western New York after the game but for that moment I was alive and more so than I had ever been in my 40 years on earth. It was all because of... Buffalo?
