Bury Me in the Ralph…

Kevin Walsh

Assistant Editor


Bury me in the Ralph. Five words I muttered while pregaming way too hard for a Buffalo Bills vs Washington Foreskins preseason NFL matinee. These words, though encouraged by a medley of Labatt Blue Latte’s and Molson Canadian’s, were yelled into Snapchat by myself and immediately laughed at by long time writer Patty O’Scherer who joined me for this preseason showdown. At the time I was doing my best to imitate a Lackawanna steel worker, but deep down the words were true. Believe it or not when the game was all said and done and DC’s best chicken wing impression was coating my stomach I thought about these 5 words. I thought about the ridiculous idea of being buried under our holy land we call Ralph Wilson Stadium (not going to mention NE field, imagine that being the Voldemort or Mudblood of this post). As I kept thinking about this my heart opened like the mighty Niagara itself. Bury me in the Ralph means much more than the idea of penetrating the permafrost of Abbot Road’s finest establishment. It’s a statement made from the heart of an Ex-Buffalonian. Yes, me, Kevin Walsh. So here is what “Bury me in the Ralph” means to me. Grab your tissues lads, as they always do, this post runs deep.


Gameday in Buffalo, there is nothing like it. The hope and prospect of a win, the hype, the 7am puking, shitty food we all say tastes amazing because we are already hungover, and so many ice cold beers. When I think about going to a Bills game, I think about all the above. Perhaps what I think about most is the fun I am going to have with my favorite ladbills-2s and lasses. From the 6:30 AM pregame (or hair of the dog), to the drive to OP looking out fog stained school bus windows, going to a Bills game no matter what the season is looking like- has to be one of my favorite things to do in the world. The feeling you get in your gens (lads only) as you approach the stadium and see the lights cannot be compared to anything else. Wonderful Buffalonians opening up their homes, bathrooms, and front lawns as parking lots is a sight to see. I promise this not a thing anywhere else. You know why? Because Buffalo is like nowhere else. There are no rules!


I miss it lads. I straight up miss it. Here down in DC I crave that feeling. Joining the DC Bills Backers, Facebook creeping people from Buffalo living in DC, and Googling every beer store in the DMV that sells the Angel Piss we call Labatt Blue is how bad I miss it. These are mostly tangible things. Sure, I can order a Blue Latte at the bar, meet some people from Buff, and Facebook creep potential friendsthat I would most likely never reach out to. But what I can’t replace are the friends that made all of the above possible. From the 52 Glendale squad, the Eastwood crew, Humboldt Prison, Delavan 313, the lasses on Hedley, and the Brothel over on Blaine, those Bills games were awfully crazy, I wish they taped them -Asher Roth.



So the next time you hear one of my lads or lasses yelling “Bury me at the Ralph” think of it this way. Think of all of beers consumed, crazy townie people, trough piss visits (lads only), incidents with police, mud wrestling, busses pushed, bus lights broken, 7emptying of stomachs before breakfast, insults yelled at Titans fans, Jim Kelly club glass banged as we freeze our asses off, Pinto Kenny, frostbitten fingertips, Uncle Mike’s Steak Um’s, Josh’s 400 egg breakfasts, piling up beer before halftime, tables broken, random fires burned, chicken wing hats, coneheads, jerseys bought on the street, sketchy but funny rides home, going to bed at 9pm, going back out after a win until 4am, unnecessary arguments with each other, paper thrown in the air after a touchdown, the Shout Song, Eyy-Eee-Ayy-Ayy, Stanky legging, dudes smacking dude’s asses, and finally all the new memories we are all bound to create at our home, Ralph Wilson Stadium.


8These memories are what’s buried below The Ralph already. But the piece that sticks with us all are those yet to be made. No, none of us will ever be buried under the Ralph, but we will do our damn best leave some of our greatest memories there forever. So thank you friends for the years of fun and laughs. I hope as you read this you get that tingling feeling, can ya feel it? That tingling in your unders? That’s a Buffalo Bills football season baby. LFG.

Let’s bury some memories under our own Ralph.



Kevin Walsh 

Assistant Editor


3 thoughts on “Bury Me in the Ralph…

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