Now that the Sabres have erased much of Saturday's debacle in Boston from my mind, I think it's about time to reflect on a weekend in New York and New England that was a legitimate good time, despite big time Buffalo bungles in Boston and Foxboro.

Friday "Are those Iced Coffee Drinks Man-Acceptable? Cause They're Delicious"
As much as my job is basically "following sports," it's always good to take a day off, and as wild as it sounds, the drive to New York City on my own was a nice change. Here are the albums that made the cut for the first leg of the road trip:

"The Motown Box", Disc One and Two
Uncut Magazine compilation, "Tribute to The Band"
Bruce Springsteen and The E-Street Band, "Greetings From Asbury Park, N.J."
Bob Dylan, "Blonde on Blonde"
Bob Dylan, "Nashville Skyline"
Sigur Ros, "Hvarf/Heim"
My Morning Jacket, "It Still Moves"
Miracle of 86, "Every Famous Last Word"
Matthew Good Band, "Beautiful Midnight"
The Beatles, "Abbey Road"
Bruce Springsteen, "Nebraska"
Q-Tip, "Amplified"
Wilco, "A Ghost Is Born"
The New Chemistry demo

I made it into New Jersey just in time for a toll booth attendant to tell me I was going the wrong way, which would've been helpful if I actually was going the wrong way. The Lincoln Tunnel was actually the first exit after her booth, and I politely informed her that she owes me $5.85 the second time I went through and by politely, I mean that my mom would've given me quite the scowl and maybe a slap.

You want to know why living in Buffalo is great? Because you don't pay tolls every two miles, unless you're going into Grand Island, the Southtowns or toward Rochester. I'm talking $2 every couple minutes, $5.85 NJ 'Pike toll here, $8 Tunnel toll there, $18/hour for parking in Manhattan... and we're not even getting into Boston, which is better, but still awful.

Regardless, I made it to Stout Pub to see the FA Cup, the trophy awarded to the team in English soccer who wins a huge knock-out tournament. The competition's been around since 1871-72, and former Newcastle United defender Warren Barton was there on behalf of Setanta Sports and Fox Soccer Channel. I don't have that picture back yet, but here's a couple fellow Magpies fans and me with the trophy.


To those who know soccer, please save the "that's the closest Geordies will ever get to the Cup" talk. It's been 53 years. We know.

After paying some undeserving attendant for driving my car about 25 feet, I met up with the elder of my two sisters in Astoria, in Queens (or near Queens, I don't get it, really. I should start telling people I live in "The Parker," in the "Town of Tonawanda"). We met up with her boyfriend and headed off to Terminal Five to see a couple solid bands, The Drive-By Truckers and The Hold Steady.


The Hold Steady were tremendous, except for one song.

Here's the thing abou stereotypes of NYC -- they are on full display at a concert. First of all, a dripping water spout above us turned out to, well, not be water at all. So we left space in front of us, which means folks plowed in front of us for those glorious three feet of puddle. Needless to say, it was worth the skewed sightline to literally watch people, well, you know, stand under the leaking bathroom.

Both bands are and were tremendous, but here's my one beef. For an encore, The Hold Steady came out and played three or four songs before bringing Patterson Hood and the Truckers out for a couple jams, one of which was Blue Oyster Cult's "Burning For You," or whatever it's called. It was fairly in jest, but it's pretty much a terrible song. I realize they won't be pulling out "Don't Fear the Reaper," but tongue-in-cheek "classic rock" is much better served by something like "Psycho Killer" or a solid Neil Young rocker.

I then slept well, with visions of beating the Bruins dancing in my head.

Saturday "Wouldn't it be nice if we could peel the Bruins off the Sabres for a minute?"
After a little too late of a start, we hit the road to meet up with my brother, who goes to school in Rhode Island, and my younger sister, who had a job interview in Boston. Because I can, here are some of the co-selected CDs for the journey:

Centro-matic, "Operation Motorcide EP" ((playing Saturday at the Mohawk, by the way) Come hang out))
The Drams, "Jubilee Dive"
My Morning Jacket, "It Still Moves"
Grand Champeen, "The One That Brought You"
Pete Yorn, "Day I Forgot"
Uncut Magazine compilation, "Tribute to The Band"

Luckily for us being under the gun to get TD Banknorth Garden on time, we had to ride a crowded train that included Boston College and Notre Dame fans headed to "The Holy War" in Chestnut Hill. In case you haven't seen "The Departed," "Good Will Hunting" or "Boondock Saints," apparently 94 percent of Bostonians are Irish, so this was an interesting "T" ride.

We arrived at the Garden just late enough to miss Tim Connolly's goal, but we didn't figure it would be a big deal. The Sabres would score plenty of goals on Manny Fernandez, right?

Right?


Good seats, surrounding by solid, young Bruins fans. I hate them a little less, especially considering they laid the wood to the Sabres, "old-time hockey"-style, and hopefully woke them up for that St. Louis game.

First off, the nachos were first-class, maybe the best I've had in any stadium, including the Jacobs/Progressive Field offerings. Secondly, Milan Lucic is a monster. I would trade almost anyone for him. All he wants to do is hit, but he can score and pass as well. Big, big fan, and I think Blake Wheeler's going to be something nasty if he figures out the game.

Lastly, was it a touch too much to expect a single body check or some fight from the Sabres? I know they traveled the night before, but there were times, sitting there in fairly expensive seats I bought for my sisters, brother and friend, that I wish I had some knives to hide in my brain for an hour. It was brutal, but it was also "Veterans Night" at the Garden, and they had some really cool vignettes honoring all the troops who were in attendance. I guess there were worse nights to watch your team lose on the road.

After that, we went to Bobby Orr's bar/restaurant, "Fours," which was a tremendous place, voted the No. 2 sports bar in America or something like that (Apparently, the No. 1 is in Boston, too, and like a block away. Weird). Two of my truly good friends from Massachusetts met us there, and Paul Hamilton sauntered down after finishing his post-game appearance with Brian Koziol (a fan asked for a slice of Paul's moustache, but he refused to deliver). All-in-all, a fun night with family, and my brother and I were jazzed for our first Bills road game the next day.

Sunday "At Least the Tailgate Was Awesome"

To stay with the program, here was the music selection from our hotel in Boston to Foxboro, in stadium traffic:

The Strokes, "Room on Fire"
The Old Sweethearts, "Arms of The Town"

The drive in wasn't awful, even with only two or three lanes leading up to Gillette Stadium. My brother borrowed one of those Garmin GPS things, and it was kind of awesome how much technology has grown from "Mom reading a map to Dad and Dad telling her it was wrong" (Not my parents, no way, just guessing).

Here's where cost really became a pain, and I can equate this to the Ralph to make it easier on you. We parked about as far a walk as that fire hall all the way down Abbott Road. Twenty bucks, no joke. There were folks who parked at the equivalent of "Kettles" or "Bert's"... Forty bucks.

How about the ECC lots? or close to Danny's South?

Fifty Dollars.

Fifty.

Dollars.

God bless Western New York. I guess Massachusetts makes up for what they don't tax in parking fees.

Anyway, no joke, one of the most fun parts of our pregame antics was checking out all the old Pats jerseys. You know how you love to notice the Steve Christie or Phil Hansen jerseys at the Ralph? How about Tebucky Jones, Drew Bledsoe and Willie McGinest. It was fun.

Jeremy White told me that hanging out in a new stadium would change my thoughts on the Ralph forever, and that was half-true. Gillette Stadium is massive, and the sighlines are very good.


How nice of Steve Grogan to wear his game day Starter jacket into the stands.

Here's the one thing that stunk about their stadium. They have a "16-0 Regular Season" banner, and it looked so cheesy. Maybe that's why they kept it as far as humanly possible from their Super Bowl Championship banners. Other than that, and the fact that the fans are dead -- relative to Orchard Park -- for most of the game, the place is great.

Their official tailgate party has lunch, drinks and dessert you'd normally find at an expensive buffet. There is a mall and Cineplex attached to the stadium to help traffic ease out. Nothing says, "Wind down from a football game," like watching "Changeling." I bet there are a ton of people in New England who think Dane Cook is legitimately funny from viewing films after too much tailgating.

Maybe the best part of the game, especially considering the boring game was accompanied by the Bills underperforming, was when the 40-0 Jets over St. Louis halftime score flashed, and I got to hear the thickest Boston accent ever say, "Oh, I wunda if weer gunna heeah bout New Yawk runnin up the scoahr all week. Wicked."

After taking that long walk back to our car, where Sam and I conducted the world's longest post-game show, with a focus on Trent Edwards and Jason Peters, I drove him back to his school in Providence, where I had some solid college flashbacks while playing a game of Madden with him in his dorm room (For the record, I won, despite playing my first game of Madden on XBox 360. Take that, youngin'.

The music on the long ride home ranged from Neil Young to NWA to a Christian CD (I think I reviewed all the CDs as part of one blockbuster show. It was probably outstanding). For my thoughts on the actual game, head here.

Otherwise, thanks for reading, and let's go Bulls (Thursday night on ESPNU against Akron).

Email: nick@wgr550.com

P.S. My road record, like many Buffalonians, is not-so-good:

Bills: 0-1
Sabres: 1-5
UB basketball: 1-2
UB football: 1-5
Bisons: 2-0* (I was in a taxi to the airport when they coughed up a lead in Norfolk in the finale of the series. Come on, Ben Wagner. I was counting on you).