When I started traveling around the country following the Buffalo Bills, I never imagined it would lead to being featured in a documentary.
Yet, here we are.
On October 21, Just One Before I Die, a five-part docuseries about Bills Mafia, premiered on Tubi. The series follows some of the most recognizable personalities in Bills Mafia, exploring their traditions, their dedication, and the relationships that make this fan base so unique.
And somehow, I ended up being one of them.
Not because I jump through
tables, wear an elaborate costume, or cover myself in ketchup and mustard. Apparently, attending an unreasonable number of consecutive Buffalo Bills games was enough to get someone’s attention.
How Did I Get Myself Into This?
People often ask me how this whole consecutive-game streak started. Was it something I planned? Was I trying to break a record?
Not even close.
It really started in 2017, when I decided to get my season tickets back. My friend Adrian eventually began encouraging me to travel to more away games. At the time, I struggled with the idea of attending games in opposing stadiums. Mentally, I just wasn’t prepared for it. I couldn’t handle the heckling, and I definitely wasn’t comfortable sitting alone.
By 2018, I had attended almost every home game and finally added a couple of away games. In 2019, I started traveling even more. Then came 2020.
COVID hit, stadiums were empty, and suddenly the thing I’d grown to love was gone. I was absolutely CRAVING a football game and couldn’t wait until fans were allowed back in the stands for the playoffs.
That’s when I realized I might have a problem.
By 2021, my son was heading off to college, and I figured, why not try attending an entire season? Just one season. How hard could it be?
Kenny “Pinto Ron” Johnson actually warned me. “Don’t do it. It gets addicting.”
Naturally, I respectfully ignored him.
Turns out he was right. Don’t tell him I said that.
Somewhere along the way, I’d become addicted. Not just to watching the Bills play live, but to everything that came with it. The traveling, the tailgating, the friendships created, the adventures, and the excitement of experiencing a different city every week.
I still don’t enjoy the heckling, but I’ve definitely developed thicker skin. And these days, I often find myself sitting alone without giving it a second thought.
Looking back, I missed three random games in the 2019 season, or my streak would actually be quite a bit longer. And now here we are, years later, with a consecutive-game streak now sitting at 108, a documentary appearance, a bank account that probably hates me, and absolutely no indication that I’ve learned my lesson.
The Docuseries Started With Pinto Ron
Unbeknownst to me, Pinto Ron had mentioned my consecutive-game streak to the documentary’s production crew. The filmmakers were already traveling around the country capturing stories about Bills Mafia when our paths crossed in Los Angeles.
That game happened to be my 75th consecutive Bills game.
Pinto Ron introduced me to the crew, and they asked if they could interview me.
Sure. Why not? It’s not like I had any idea what I was getting myself into.
The following week, I spotted them again in Detroit. I actually had to remind them who I was, but they asked for another interview.
At one point, I hadn’t heard from them in a while, and I found out they were conducting in-home and in-studio interviews with other people. I was certain they’d experienced enough of me.
I even joked with several of the people they were following, “I’m just not good at the interviews. I don’t think I’m interesting enough.”
Over time, though, we continued running into each other at games and tailgates. Since they were following so many of my friends, our paths crossed constantly.
And somewhere along the way, I think we became friends.
Just when I’d finally accepted that I probably wouldn’t be doing another interview…
They mic’d me up again.
Then came consecutive game No. 99 and all the emotions surrounding the final game at “the Ralph.”
Eventually, the production team asked whether I’d be interested in having my 100th consecutive game featured in the documentary.
Of course, I said yes. But I almost immediately regretted it. Following me around all day?
I’m pretty superstitious, and I’m definitely social. How was this going to affect my game-day routine? What about my morning? What about the tailgate?
But I also knew this was an opportunity most fans would dream of.
Which is funny, considering how nervous I get when someone puts a camera in front of my face. When I tell you I’m awkward… I mean it! It’s not self deprecating, it’s true.
You’d think someone who has spent years hosting podcasts, interviewing people, and talking about football would be comfortable being interviewed herself. You would be wrong. Very wrong.
Some of that probably stems from my weight loss journey. It’s now been just over 10 years of the ups and downs of losing and trying to keep off 120 pounds. But I often still see myself negatively still, or fear being judged. But at my worst weight, I hid, I didn’t want anyone to see how I let myself go. I even canceled my season tickets for a couple years during the drought because I was afraid of seeing people I knew and being judged.
Hours of Footage, Four Minutes of Usable Content
Over the course of production, I ended up being filmed quite a bit, probably more than I even realized, since the cameras were constantly rolling around so many people I knew.
They followed me through multiple games, tailgates, and milestone moments, including consecutive games 99 through 101. We eventually returned for final studio interviews in March 2026.
And while I absolutely loved the experience, I’m fairly certain I tested the patience of the production team more than once.
Here’s something I learned about documentary interviews.
They’re not necessarily conducted like traditional interviews. Instead of simply answering a question, you’re often asked to incorporate the question into your response so the finished footage can stand on its own.
Sounds simple enough, right? Apparently not for me. I constantly forgot how I was supposed to answer.
Then there was the question of where I was supposed to look. At the camera? At the person asking the question? Somewhere slightly off to the side?
I swear I needed a GPS just to figure out where my eyeballs were supposed to go.
And I talk with my hands. A LOT. What in the world was I supposed to do with them?
I eventually joked with the crew that they probably had hours of footage of me and about four minutes they could actually use. And honestly, that might have been generous.
But the production team was incredibly patient, even when I wasn’t making their jobs particularly easy. Well, patient most of the time.
Because there were definitely a few moments when they had entirely too much fun at my expense.
When “Torpedo Dan” Called Me Out
One of my favorite memories from filming involved a question I should have been able to answer without thinking.
The crew asked how long I planned to continue my consecutive-game streak.
I started talking about wanting to visit every NFL stadium, continuing until the Bills finally won a Super Bowl, and all the other goals I’d set for myself.
And while those things are absolutely true, I realized afterward that I’d started giving the answer I thought the filmmakers wanted to hear. Not necessarily the answer I give every single week. Fortunately, my brother from another mother, Norm “Torpedo Dan” Brumfield, was there to remind me.
He looked at me and essentially said, “Tell them the truth. Tell them what you say every week.”
“When the bank account says NOPE… DECLINED… THAT’S A NO!”
And he was absolutely right.
Because as much as I’d love to tell everyone I’m going to keep attending Bills games until they win a Super Bowl, or until I hit the numbers “Mama J” or “Pinto Ron” have reached, there’s a very real financial component to this little adventure.
Flights aren’t free. Hotels aren’t free. Car rentals aren’t free. Tickets definitely aren’t free. And apparently, nobody has informed my bank account that we’re chasing a little piece of history here.
Plus, for me, every single game is an away game.
But that moment taught me something important about the filming process. I didn’t need to come up with the perfect answer. I didn’t need to say what I thought would sound best on television.
I just needed to be myself.
Even if being myself meant admitting that my consecutive-game streak might eventually be ended by a declined credit card.
Hi, I’m Sara. But You Can Call Me Sara “Shades”
Now, if you’ve spent any time around me at Bills games, you’ve probably noticed one thing.
I’m almost always wearing sunglasses.
Apparently, the production crew noticed too, once they figured out Sara was also the chick in shades. Over nearly two years of filming, they constantly joked that they’d never actually seen me without my sunglasses.
And the two times they did?
They literally had no idea who I was.
Once was at the Mafia Boat Parade, and the second time was at a traveling Bills party in Kansas City.
Apparently, removing my sunglasses is the equivalent of going undercover. Or a reverse Clark Kent as Superman. Glasses come off Sara (Clark), glasses go on, I’m suddenly an alter ego “Shades” (Superman). Maybe I should wear an S on my chest.
Eventually, they started calling me “Sara Shades.” And the nickname stuck.
But the moment that really sealed it happened during one of our filming sessions.
The crew had asked me to introduce myself several different ways. We went through the introductions, finished what I thought was the final take, and I assumed the cameras had stopped rolling.
So naturally, I put my sunglasses back on.
Then, joking around with everyone, I announced:
“Hi, my name is Sara, but you can call me Sara Shades.” In the absolutely corniest way possible!
Someone from production joked, “Yep, that’s the one.”
And that’s when I realized something. One of the cameras was still recording. And I still had a hot mic.
The entire crew started laughing and giving me a hard time. Apparently, my ridiculous introduction was now a strong candidate for the blooper reel, assuming they ever decided to make one.
My defense? “Wait… YOU SAID CUT!”
To this day, I’m not entirely convinced they weren’t setting me up. But somewhere along the way, Sara “Shades” became more than a nickname.
It became part of my story.
And honestly, if you’re going to be immortalized in a documentary about Bills Mafia, I suppose there are worse things to be remembered for.
From Tailgates to the Red Carpet
After years of filming, interviews, and countless hours of footage, Just One Before I Die finally premiered on October 21.
The night before, on October 20, the cast, filmmakers, and special guests gathered in Buffalo for the official red-carpet premiere.
And in true Bills Mafia fashion, nobody seemed particularly concerned about following the same dress code. Half the crowd looked ready for Hollywood. The other half looked ready for kickoff.
Naturally, I decided to do both.
I dressed up for the premiere and brought a change of clothes for the after-party at Southern Tier Brewing Co. Because I might enjoy dressing up, but I’m still a Bills girl at heart.
And I’m all about changing up my game-day fits.
So, Fanatics, Gameday Couture, Leveled Up Buffalo, Bleached by Abagail, Bubs and Keeks, Fashion Nova, any local Buffalo boutiques… let’s talk. Send me an outfit and I will promote the heck out it!
But what made the night special wasn’t the celebrity appearances or the red carpet. It was seeing everyone together. People I’d spent years running into at games. Friends I’d made through Bills Mafia.
And the production crew who had somehow managed to turn our ridiculous football obsession into a five-part documentary.
Watching the finished product was surreal.
I knew how much footage they’d collected. I knew how many interviews they’d conducted. I knew how many hours they’d spent following people around parking lots, stadiums, and cities across the country.
And somehow, they had to take all of that and turn it into five episodes. I can’t even imagine how difficult those decisions must have been. But what surprised me most wasn’t the production quality or seeing myself on screen.
It was how emotional the documentary made me. I expected to laugh. I expected to relive some incredible memories. What I wasn’t prepared for was how deeply some of those stories would hit home.
Because for me, the title Just One Before I Die carries a meaning that has become much more personal over the years.
Just One. JUST ONE.
My father passed away unexpectedly in August 2020.
My brother passed away in April 2026. He was only 38 years old.
And while neither of them was physically with me at every Bills game, they were always part of my journey.
My brother, Joe, had a game-day tradition of his own.
Every week, usually before kickoff, I’d get a text. “Where are you sitting this week?” Followed by: “Send a pic.”
If I was attending an away game, he wanted to know where my seats were. If I was at a home game, he wanted pictures. Specifically, pictures showing how close I was to the Bills bench. He loved talking up my adventures to all his friends.
And he’d often tell me: “One day, I’m going to come with you.”
When the Bills played well, he was excited. When they played poorly? Well, let’s just say Joe had some very strong opinions about the coaching staff, the players, the front office, and just about anyone else associated with the organization.
According to his game-day text messages, there were probably several seasons when the entire organization should have been fired before the fourth quarter.
But no matter how the season was going, we always came back to the same conversation.
Every year.
“JUST ONE… JUST ONE.”
Just one Super Bowl.
Just one time we could say the team we loved were champions.
Just one opportunity to experience something that generations of Bills fans have spent their entire lives waiting for.
My father never got to see it.
And now, neither will my brother.
That realization breaks my heart. Because the title of this documentary isn’t simply a clever reference to Buffalo’s championship drought. For so many of us, it’s painfully real.
There are parents, grandparents, siblings, spouses, and friends who spent decades cheering for this team. People who shared every victory, every heartbreaking loss, and every offseason filled with renewed hope.
People who promised themselves that one day they’d finally get to celebrate a championship together. And some of those people aren’t here anymore.
That’s what makes Just One Before I Die so much more than a documentary about football fans. It’s about the people we’ve loved, the memories we’ve created, and the dreams we’ve shared along the way.
My Guardian Angel Travels With Me Now
Since losing my brother, I’ve started bringing a small trinket representing him to Bills games. It’s my way of keeping him with me. He always said he wanted to come to a game with me.So now, in a way, he does.
Of course, there was one game when I accidentally left him at home in Florida.
The Patriots game. And we lost. Coincidence? I’m not taking any chances.
Joe will be attending every game with me from now on. After all, he spent enough weeks telling me what the Bills were doing wrong. The least I can do is make sure he’s there to supervise.
My baby brother. My guardian angel. And apparently, the newest traveling member of Bills Mafia.
The Family I Never Expected
When the production crew first approached me in Los Angeles, I thought I was agreeing to a quick interview about my consecutive-game streak.
I never imagined how much those people would eventually mean to me.
Over the course of filming, Kevin, Addison, Leah, Trent, Andy, KJ, and Clayton became so much more than a group of people holding cameras and asking questions.
They became friends. And eventually, they became family.
They were part of some of my highest highs.
They were also there through some of my lowest lows.
They saw me celebrate, laugh, get nervous, stumble through interviews, and occasionally forget how to form a complete sentence when a camera was pointed in my direction.
But they also got to know the person behind the sunglasses. And somewhere along the way, I got to know the people behind the cameras. That’s something I’ll carry with me long after the documentary’s final credits roll.
It’s also one of the things I love most about Bills Mafia. You start out sharing a football team. Then you start sharing experiences. Eventually, those experiences become friendships. And sometimes, those friendships become family.
The filmmakers set out to tell the story of Bills Mafia. I don’t know if they realized they’d end up becoming part of it. But they did.
At least, they became part of mine.
One More Run
I don’t know how many more consecutive Bills games I’ll attend. I don’t know when my bank account will finally decide it’s had enough. And I certainly don’t know when the Buffalo Bills will finally win a Super Bowl.
Because no matter what happened the season before, I always head into a new season believing this year is “OUR YEAR.”
But I do know that this journey has given me so much more than I ever expected. I’ve traveled across the country, visited incredible places, met extraordinary people, and made friendships that will last a lifetime.
I’ve also experienced losses that have changed the way I look at the world and reminded me how precious those moments really are. My father and brother won’t be here to celebrate that elusive championship with me. But they’ll always be part of the reason I keep showing up.
And when that day finally comes, I know exactly who I’ll be thinking about.
As for the production crew? I hope they’re ready. Because when the Bills finally make that Super Bowl run, I pray we get the family back together.
Let’s run it back! Cameras, sunglasses, questionable interviews, and all.
And this time? Maybe I’ll remember how to answer.
Just one before I die.
