Bills to Remember Everett Forever…or Maybe Just a Few Weeks


I am a Dick.

“Kevin knows that he’s a part of this team and everybody else on the team knows it, too,” Jauron said last week. “It’s the way it is and the way it’ll be. It definitely serves a purpose to keep him right in front of us in that locker room. And we’ll keep it that way.”

Nothing like a man who keeps to his word. A week after assertively uttering the words above, the Buffalo Bills cleaned out fallen teammate Kevin Everett’s locker to “make room.” Now, in place of the memorial to #85, sits offensive tackle Brad Butler. Makes total sense to me.

Now, I’m NOT claiming that a near-fatal incident that could have caused permanent paralysis should be compared to actual fatalities or even real cases of players being rendered unable to walk…BUT I remember Darryl Kile’s jersey hanging in the dugout of the St. Louis Cardinals for quite some time…and the Mike Utley #60 on the Lions jerseys…and many more touching tributes to players, coaches and owners that stood as not only a reminder, but a signal of respect and admiration towards those individuals.

Is it that much to keep the guys locker intact as a simple tribute. Maybe even a bit of motivation for a team an 0-and-3 team that could use a spark of any kind whatsover? And even if it’s absolutely vital to clear the locker for another player can you not find some other option to recognize the guy?

I guess not…Dick and crew just threw his stuff in a garbage bag and shipped it to Houston. We’ll always remember you though, Kevin…we just needed to make a little bit of room. Don’t want it to be too tight in the locker room and all. You know…feels good to have some freedom…a little space to move around…
Another solid move by a team that’s going places this year.

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About the Author: Cecilio's Scribe is the founder of The Legend of Cecilio Guante and a generally pessimistic fan of the Mets, Jets, Knicks and Rangers. A fine NYC-based gentlemen who hones his marketing skills as his primary trade by day. Husband, chef, father of a newborn and after-hours blogger by night. Proud alum of the mighty Big Red of Cornell. University. Hot sauce devotee. Staunch protester of the continued wussifcation of American sports. Sometimes I rhyme slow, sometimes I rhyme quick.

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