It was a cold night. It was a cathartic night. It was a night of frozen breath and furious drives, a night to exorcise past demons and start aspirations for the future. New England in the rearview mirror, Kansas City in the high beams.
It was damn near zero on the thermometer and damn near 50 on the scoreboard.
Bills 47, Patriots 17 and somehow it wasn’t even that close.
All anyone around Buffalo knew was that Josh Allen was so unstoppable, that all Bill Belichick could do was fade deeper and deeper under his hoodie and wait for it all to be over.