On Oct. 11, I wrote a commentary in which I suggested drastic measures, out of my frustrations with the Buffalo Bills after a thoroughly embarrassing 6-3 loss to the lowly Cleveland Browns. I said, “I will not watch the Buffalo Bills play, wear my [Marshawn] Lynch jersey or support them in any way, shape or form until [Dick] Jauron is no longer the head coach.”

So Nov. 17 was a happy day. Jauron was fired and Bills Nation collectively rejoiced. I held to my word; I didn’t watch a game and I stashed my jersey in the depths of my closet. (For the record, I did accidentally see one single play, but it was only because I had turned on CBS hoping that they’d switch to the competitive Steelers-Bengals game. The only play I saw was Ryan Fitzpatrick firing a pass to Terrell Owens. Owens made a horrible half-ass effort to catch it and the ball went right through his hands to a Titans cornerback, who easily took it back for a touchdown. That crap definitely doesn’t count.)

I thought Jauron would last the whole season as head coach, due to owner Ralph Wilson, Jr.’s typical avoidance of firing coaches mid-season. But it finally happened (Thank you so much, Ralph — I knew we didn’t name a stadium after you for nothing), and after the news broke, I quickly threw my Lynch jersey on, and I am still wearing it as I write these very words.

Interesting reaction, right? Here’s a team that I publicly scorned, scathed and boycotted. So why was I so quick to slip back into the fan gear?

My experience, however insignificant, taught me a lot about sports. The Bills are a team that I grew up with. They were the first team I ever loved, the first I ever saw play, the first I ever represented as a fan. I was born during their glory years, just months before their first of four straight Super Bowl appearances.

But we missed a Super Bowl championship by one point and a wide right field goal attempt. The last time we were in the playoffs was 1999, when we were defeated on the final play of a game against the Super Bowl-bound Tennessee Titans by an illegal forward pass. We have suffered through the tragedies, but when the mediocrity struck in this decade, sadness turned to impatience.

It was always tough being a Bills fan, but I weathered the storms. However, this year, the events that occurred forced me into a position that I hadn’t been in before. Sure, I could have done nothing and remained pissed off, but that isn’t what I did. What I experienced in the past month was a phenomenon that I have never felt before.

In my boycott of the team, I maintained allegiance without support. I didn’t abandon them, but I rather forced apathy upon myself. It felt empty, avoiding CBS just because I knew the Bills were on that channel, not putting on my jersey for game day support like I always do. Life was very different, more so than I thought it would be.

It was as if I were a man without a country. I had to do what I had to do, but it really wasn’t easy, even though the Bills thoroughly sucked for the period of time that I was boycotting them. I knew that all I was missing was more garbage football, but there was something much more important that I was missing: my Buffalo Bills.

I would never advocate desertion of a beloved team, but even though what I did was very different than that in principle, it still kind of felt like desertion. Something about it felt inherently wrong, and every bone in my body wanted to go against my word and give in. Nobody would have noticed or cared; it’s not like what I was doing was that important to anyone else. My actions were not going to affect change of any kind, so what was the point?

It was important to me. Personally, I had to do something to cope with this new feeling of humiliation. Akin to how Lions fans must have felt after an 0-16 season, I too felt mortified by my team’s play, and I felt the need to act. Would I do it again? Yeah, I think I would. I don’t regret it. But it was so much harder than I imagined it would be.

Breaking the habit of religiously following the Bills almost felt like going through withdrawal, and for what? The firing of Jauron is only one of several steps that the organization needs to take to revamp a franchise whose playoff drought is tied with the Lions’ for the longest among non-expansion teams (1999). The team is looking at Super Bowl-winning coaches Mike Shanahan and Bill Cowher for next season (Oh please, Ralph, hire Cowher), but this will not solve the problems altogether. Management as a whole needs to step up, or else we’re in for another decade without a playoff berth.

I understand that there are plenty of franchises in disarray right now, some worse than the Bills are. But none of these teams have nearly the level of talent that Buffalo has, and that’s what makes it hurt so much more. I did what I did because I couldn’t find an ounce of pride in my bones for them after the embarrassment against Cleveland. It wasn’t about the team’s success; it was about dignity.

Look, I’m glad to be supporting my guys again. How could I not be? But this was not an act of sports treason; neither was the billboard that Buffalo fans put up telling Wilson to “clean house.” These are statements of discontent in the fan base, and Wilson has always been very attentive to these sentiments. But now, the rebuilding begins. Now, we’ve got to prove that we can actually win football games. There’s so much more work to be done.

This season is lost; I might as well go back to not watching the Bills play another down and spare myself the headaches and fits of rage. But I won’t. If my hiatus showed me anything, it’s that die-hard fans truly have team colors running through their veins, that dedicated fan bases can be so much more powerful than we can know. I have always been a Bills fan, and I always will be. But no matter how badly we suck, this experience has taught me that nothing can ever change that. Even if we never see better days, as long as I can wear my jersey with pride, then that’s all right with me.