The 2007 Buffalo Bulls football team was like a scrappy underdog, fighting its way through the trenches of adversity, battling both opponents and the ever-present demon of mediocrity. In a year that witnessed America defying the odds at home and abroad, let’s talk about how the Bulls smashed expectations and made headlines, shocking the sports world by not being terrible. Led by Turner Gill, a former Nebraska quarterback turned head coach genius, the Bulls were the David versus the Goliaths of the Mid-American Conference (MAC).
In 2007, as the country was in a political frenzy, debating the merits of whether or not to continue our financial deep dive supporting frivolous programs or restoring American grit, the Bulls put on helmets and decided to get to work. They played their home games at UB Stadium in Buffalo, New York—a city renowned for its resilience against the harshest winters and sports curses. Despite being largely overshadowed by that allegiance to losing sports tones, this team plowed forward.
First up, becoming bowl eligible for the first time since moving to Division I-A in 1999 was arguably their proudest achievement. But wait, let's underscore the real heroics here—this was done in a blue-collar, hard-nosed type of way, symbolizing American capitalism at its core, where effort was rewarded over mere handouts. Yes, they managed to eke out a 5–7 record. For the silver spoon elitists snickering from their ivory towers, let me explain why this was fantastic: it doubled their win total from the previous season. These weren’t leisurely trophies for participation; this was honest-to-goodness improvement.
Six of those ten MAC games were arduous showdowns that left fans on the edge of their recliners. The sight of emerging talent within their roster sparked a glimmer of hope in the hearts of Buffalo supporters. Quarterback Drew Willy, a name with everyman resonance, led the passing game. Willy tossed for over 2,000 yards and had 15 touchdowns, which for a college team likened to post-apocalyptic dogfighting arena, is commendable. James Starks was a slasher in the running tracks, rushing over opponents with sheer willpower, reinforcing the notion that waiting for opportunities is overrated—sometimes you’ve got to run through them.
Here’s the kicker, literally and figuratively. Ahsan Asadullah was the epitome of resilience. Walking onto the team as a freshman, he stood firm like a lighthouse amidst the storm, working his way into becoming a starter. And there was Naaman Roosevelt, taking on the field like it was his backyard. Earning a spot on the Freshman All-Northwest team was not an easy feat. Your average cotton candy libero might not get it, but those who understand the grit of earning a place can relate.
Now, let’s get into why the season falls into the "history-making" category. The pinnacle moment came when they handled Akron with unabashed tenacity during a televised game. It was monumental not just because they sent Akron packing, but they also stood victorious after a triple-overtime thriller against Bowling Green. Talking points like these turn the heads of the loyalists eating wings at Anchor Bar.
In simple terms, their victories symbolized challenges overcome, quietly emphasizing the aggressive, unyielding American spirit—the spirit that thrives amid life's icy torrents. That is, until you have to remind certain detractors that rising from your circumstance doesn’t require tilting the field unfairly. You see, politically, the team’s ethics and resilience projected a metaphor onto a nation weary of pacification and entitlement.
Fast forward to today, and we can reflect on the lessons they left behind. Head coach Turner Gill used those moments to place UB football on a progressive arc of resilience. It's about channeling life's losses into future triumphs—not about focusing on what one thinks they deserve without putting in the sweat equity. It showcased a resilient ecosystem of teamwork, leadership, and pure elbow grease.
For those naysayers expecting wins to define worth, their efforts were the exponential lifting of the Bulls’ status as an evolving program, matching beats with the resilient pulse of Americana. By no means were they a collegiate football utopia, but they reflected a drive that resonated well beyond the gridiron. The Bulls didn’t just play football; they mirrored a nation's struggle, rising against the odds.
As you sip your coffee and ponder the 2007 Buffalo Bulls' story, remember, that year they weren't just another collegiate team hustling for wins; they were an embodiment of work ethic and commitment—qualities once core to the very fabric of American success.