A Little Home in the Big City

The actor sits on the windowsill by the door, eating bright chicken wings and occasionally breaking into a dance by himself. The doggy day care manager stands near the bar, eyes fixed on the large screen that hangs above his head. The young recruiter walks behind the bar, and the sales representative eats in the dining area. They all know each other, but not in those terms. Here, they are simply Adam, Ben, Matt and Kenny, and they are Buffalo Bills fans.

Though they see each other every week for at least 16 weeks a year, the young men don’t know much about one another except that, like the other regulars at McFadden’s Saloon, they come week after week to cheer on and support their football team – no matter how badly they might be doing or how dreadful the weather is.

“You want sports fans?” asked Jill Kerschensteiner, one of the women who make up the Bills Backers community at McFadden’s. “Well you got us. We’re here.”  A short blonde, she is full of energy, and whether she channels that energy positively or negatively completely depends on the Bills’ performance. She can go from shaking her fist at a referee’s image on the television one second, and the next be dancing around in a shower of square napkins she has thrown up in celebration.

Jill’s energy is contagious, and she interacts with everyone around her, including a moody brunette who spends much of her time arguing with others and showing her middle finger to the television. Pete Francese, one of McFadden’s owners, managers and bartenders, explained to me that she is known as “the girl who yells at Matt,” Matt being another bartender. “She says, ‘But you don’t understand, I grew up in Buffalo,'” Pete said with a smirk. “Ok, but she doesn’t realize half the people here also grew up in Buffalo. And you don’t see them yelling like that.”

Matt Karl, the 26 year-old recruiter who doubles as a bartender in question during the weekends, agreed with Pete that most people who come regularly either grew up or went to college in Buffalo. That, to him, bounds them in this community that keeps growing over the years. “At first I didn’t know how crazy it would get,” he said of his bartending beginnings three years ago. “People just know about us. And then you get people from Rochester who saw us on Youtube and want to join in,” he added, pointing to the two men sitting in front of him, beer in hand, for support.

Everyone who comes on a weekly basis will say that they have become a community. “People at work don’t understand this football thing I have, so I just say I’m going to church. They know what that means,” said Adam Rihacek, who during the week is an actor, fight director and choreographer. On Sundays, he puts on his blue hat and sits on his own, eating chicken wings and talking to people who walk in. When the Bills score, he jumps up and dances, then sits back down, content, and sips his beer.

“You come here once and you’re addicted,” said Ben Irvin, who manages a dog care center on the Upper West Side. “It’s like a little town; a little piece of home.” Ben has been coming to McFadden’s for years, and every week stands in the same corner, with his team jersey on and his beer in hand.

If anyone knows about being addicted to the place and its atmosphere, it’s Kenny Tenzer, a sales representative. After all, Kenny has been watching games at McFadden’s since it broadcasted its very first Buffalo Bills game about six years ago. He likes the ambiance, the people and, really, the simple fact that “this is the only place that shows the game.”

At the other end of the spectrum are those who just happen to stumble in when a game is on, or friends who get brought along for a fun afternoon. Such is the case for Earnest Wallace, whose roommate has been a regular attendee for years. On his second visit, Earnest seemed to be into the game just as much as anyone else. “I’m being converted!” he said with a laugh before taking a sip of beer. Will he come back? “Hell yeah!” Another smile, another sip.

Though possibly trivial in another context, the beer and chicken wings play an important part of the football afternoons at McFadden’s, as patrons, fans or not, can take advantage of a $20 special for unlimited drinks and wings. This enhances the atmosphere and helps make McFadden’s the welcoming place that it is, where anyone can feel comfortable enjoying some delicious chicken wings and a variety of draft beers, served in clear plastic cups on which has been printed the Buffalo Bills logo.

To take advantage of the special, people pay Tommy at the door and receive a wristband, which becomes their way into the community. Tommy takes care of the cash box and tickets, and spends most of the game talking to the bouncer, Frankie.

Like many others, Frankie has become a staple of the restaurant since he started working there in April 2000. From the top of his six feet, three inches, and 300 pounds, Frankie smiles at all who come in and jokes around with anyone who will listen. From the very first time I spoke to him, he was good-natured and teasing; by my third visit, he greeted me with a hug. “You’re a regular now!” he said.

Frankie took the time to introduce me to the scene and show me the ropes of the saloon. It was easy to become acquainted with, however, because despite McFadden’s large area, everything about it feels homey. The wooden bar is long enough to accommodate a large weekend crowd, and behind it are rows of colorful bottles containing of a wide variety of alcohols. The rows are set against either mirrors or tall windows, and are on two occasions interrupted by old-fashioned cash registers. In the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving, the shelves on which the bottles stand were decorated with leaves and other fall accessories; the weekend following the holiday, they were replaced by nutcrackers, large red bows and lights.

Beyond the bar area is the dining area, which can probably seat between 50 and 75 people, and tall round booths with tables, where groups can enjoy the game while comfortably sitting and talking. To get a seat, however, one has to get there early and claim it. “I used to have a group of girls be here at 8:30 in the morning because they wanted to make sure they had a table for the game,” recalled Pete. “I would bring them bagels and take care of them while we’d be setting up and getting ready to open.”

Frankie also explained to me the dynamics of the community, from the sibling bartenders, Matt and Mary, to the “creepy guy you just don’t want to make eye contact with.” The man in question was a short man in his late thirties, wearing a Bills hooded sweatshirt – with the hood was designed to look like a football helmet.

It is the diverse mix of people that make the McFadden’s Bills Backers community what it is: fun, friendly and dedicated. The small community is so established that has its own website and Facebook group. The latter, which has become one of today’s most efficient networking tools, gives group members from around the city the opportunity to post pictures, share links and participate in discussion boards. The website, meanwhile, is designed with the team colors, and is specifically directed to the McFadden’s community. It features blog entries, picture archives, weekly updates on the team and its loyal fans’ activities, and offers visitors the chance to become official members. To cap it off, under the team’s soaring blue Buffalo at the top of the page, are the words that say it all: “Little Buffalo in the Big Apple.”

“This is Buffalo right here,” said Paul Saxton, an older man who finally managed to get in after trying a few times over recent years. Saxton hails from Buffalo, and could not be more proud to have this little community here in Manhattan.

However, though they all know each other, the members of this community know practically nothing of each other. “Most of these people, I don’t even know what they do,” admitted Ben. “We just talk Bills.” Only Matt knows what some of the community members do outside of McFadden’s four walls, but he attributes that knowledge to both his role as bartender and his outside job as a recruiter. In fact, knowing he is a recruiter makes many people bring him resumes, which permits him to network while he serves drinks.

Yet, despite never mentioning the outside world, everyone else considers one another as friends. Because, although McFadden’s is the place where they meet, and the wings and beer are what satisfies their appetites, when it comes down to it the thing truly holds this community together is the shared passion for football, specifically for the Buffalo Bills. “It’s nice to have all Bills people here,” said Ben.

The crowd that forms in the saloon shares in the entire range of emotions that come with a football game, from the glee of a victory to the pain and disappointment of a loss. When the Bills lose the ball, grunts and angry yells are heard throughout the bar, and conversations seem to get just a little louder and more heated. If the referee makes a call that is judged to be unfair, fists pump the air and bang the bar, while vulgarities are yelled and slightly obscene gestures can be seen, usually directed at the TVs.

When the Bills are playing an opportunity to score, the tension builds up in the bar as it would in an actual stadium. During the play, all sounds are hushed but start again when the play stops. Eyes are glued to the various screens, and some mouths hang slightly open in a mixture of hope and fear.

And when points are scored, the sound of celebration can be heard from the street. The music is turned on, and people sing along and cheer. Napkins are thrown in the air, smiles appear on bright faces; everyone jumps up, high fives, hugs or attempts to do all those things at once and for a few moments, there is nothing in the world but what is contained within these four walls.   

This kind of celebration usually lasts a few minutes, and leaves everyone with a smile on their face while the commercials come on. Unfortunately, there have been too few such moments this season, as the Bills seem to have been losing more than they have been winning. “It’s like a support group here,” said Adam. “We keep losing, so it’s nice to have others who feel the pain.”

In the minutes preceding the sad conclusion of a game, when hope starts fading and reality slowly creeps in, the smiles are a little lower and the cheers lose a bit of enthusiasm. Beer is put aside for a round or two of shots, which are quickly gone. And when that last second comes and goes, and the score box is still not in the Bills’ favor, the fans slowly, quietly make their way out. TV stations are changed and very few goodbyes are said.

But no one worries too much, because the next week is a new week, and with a new week comes new hope and renewed energy. And the following game day, by kickoff time, everyone will be back in position; back where they belong, in this little piece of home away from home.