ORCHARD PARK — The gates of Highmark Stadium clanged shut for what was likely the last Buffalo Bills game inside its concrete walls. All the while, the future lurked in the shadows over its shoulder.
Abbott Road serves as the divider between progress and the past. Many people either yearn for progress without looking back or lament change and wish for the past while trudging ahead because progress can never truly be stopped.
The Bills will crossover to the western side of Abbott road to a bigger, better and flashier version of Highmark Stadium, one more conducive to the modern NFL and the superstar quarterback who will call it home. The old Highmark Stadium will eventually be toppled and paved, leaving only memories.
Keeping the crumbling old building as a shrine wouldn’t be sensible, especially when there’s a profit to be made by turning it into a parking lot. Appropriate considering the past is often only important in the NFL so long as it doesn’t interfere with current and future profits.
Make no mistake: of any of the 17 stadiums to open over the last 25 years, the Bills were in more desperate need than most. It’s dingy, outdated and lacking in modern concessions and restrooms.
And despite being the fourth-oldest stadium in the league, it’s not revered like NFL relics Lambeau Field in Green Bay and Soldier Field in Chicago. But the NFL is losing something when the 53-year-old building is shuddered for good.
Grittiness.
It was a gritty stadium built for a gritty fanbase in a gritty region. And the Bills, at their best, produced resilient teams whose most popular players often matched the personality of those who revered them.
Opened in 1973, Highmark Stadium was a stadium built to maximize spectators — 80,290 at its peak — to watch football. Built 35 feet below grade, the bowl trapped wind, rain, snow and any other harsh conditions it could hold — including noise.
“That stadium,” Former Bills center Mitch Morse told GNN Sports, “there’s something primal about it.”
The stadium is one of the few remaining in which players have to walk down a ramp to get to the field. Once they get to the bottom, they are greeted by thousands of screaming fans — a good chunk fueled by liquid courage — whose passion for the Bills breeds animalistic instincts over the ensuing three hours.
There was no preparation for the noise that awaited, especially a newbie. Not even those that played in front of 100,000-seat college stadiums known for being raucous could relate to the noise when they walked onto the Highmark Stadium turf for the first time.
Perhaps they had experienced louder at some point during their football lives, but the energy of Highmark Stadium was just … different.
“I was not ready for what I was going to experience in my rookie year coming out of the tunnel to play the Rams,” said John Fina, who played offensive tackle for the Bills from 1992-2001. “I had never heard a stadium erupt in cheering like I did that day. It just vibrated through me. And it was to the point where you’d shake a little bit like, ‘Holy cow.’”
The new version of Highmark Stadium will surely be plenty loud enough; it’s being designed to keep the noise in and the wind out. Plus, the passion of Bills fans runs too deep for it to be tossed aside.
But don’t be fooled. A certain portion of the fanbase is going to be priced out of the new stadium. Fans were required to pay thousands for the right just to pay for their season tickets in the new barn.
That’s the NFL’s new way. It happens across the league every time a new stadium is opened, even if taxpayers are already helping billionaires fit the bill to build the darn thing.
Therein lies where Highmark’s magic will be missed most. Consider some of the NFL’s most iconic images.
Blood splattered across J.J. Watt’s face. Jack Lambert’s face tucked behind a facemask, but not enough to hide his missing teeth. Brett Favre and Steve Young embracing, both caked in mud. The steam of breath cutting through frigid temperatures during the “Ice Bowl.”
Josh Allen soaring through snowflakes while reaching for the pylon last year against the 49ers. LeSean McCoy dashing through a 2017 blizzard for an overtime touchdown. Those moments are becoming fleeting in the NFL.
Elements might be slightly tamed at the new Highmark Stadium, given that 65% of the seating is going to be covered. That was a decision that left many apoplectic, considering seven of the nine stadiums built in the last 20 years are domed or have a retractable roof.
Of the seven stadiums scheduled or proposed to be opened by 2031, only Buffalo’s is slated to be open-air. The Chiefs and Bears are ready to ditch their historic stadiums for buildings with translucent roofs.
When Cleveland’s new stadium opens in 2029, the AFC East will be the only division without a dome. By 2031, exactly half the league will have enclosed stadiums.
Domed stadiums are built for the casual fan. They are built to fill suites and enable fans to head to a bar or restaurant without leaving the building.
It wouldn’t be football if the Bills chose to do that. It wouldn’t be football in Western New York, a place that adopted Hall of Fame coach Marv Levy’s quote, “When it’s too tough for them it’s just right for us.”
Grittiness.
“When you think about the stadium, you can’t think about the present players,” Bills cornerback Tre’Davious White said. “You’ve got to think about guys that laid the foundation for us. A lot of players on this team will be able to make a name across the street, so I think it’s fit to think about the people that come before us.”
Highmark Stadium, even its infancy, was never about bells and whistles. It’s always been about the people filling it. The stadium can’t be preserved, but the fans can be. Many memories from the stadium are centered just as much around the fans than the team.
Tailgating and table-jumping, giving a one-fingered salute to the opposing team bus when it entered the parking lot. RV lots filled with people who arrived days before the game. Fans twice tore down the goalposts in the 1980s, something that will never happen again.
New fans can be created, but old ones can’t be replaced. And the new stadium is going to separate some from their adopted Sunday families.
“I was thrilled at the prospect of working for the Bills,” said 89-year-old Marjorie Cataldo, who has worked as a stadium elevator operator since 2010. “This elevator reminds me of when I was a little girl, my mother would take me shopping in downtown Buffalo. And while she shopped, I rode the elevators.”
Perhaps that’s why no one wanted to leave after the Bills’ second-stringers routed the New York Jets 35-8. When the game ended everyone remained in place, waiting for some big climax.
The Bills played “Shout!” one last time and a video tribute set to the song “Iris,” by the Goo Goo Dolls. And even then, many people stayed in place as if they were hoping for some final encore.
Once the fireworks erupted, everyone knew it was finally the end.
“I felt a little guilty at times looking up into the stands; I’m supposed to be coaching,” said Bills coach Sean McDermott, who wore a baseball cap honoring Levy. “… People singing “Mr. Brightside” — I mean, come on. Where else does that happen in the NFL? That type of togetherness, that type of fellowship, community, love of their team and of each other. I’ll never forget it.”