NFL has created a bad-weather problem for its biggest games
A fan holds up a sign before an NFL wild-card playoff game between Kansas City and the Miami Dolphins on Jan. 13, 2024, in Kansas City, Mo. Credit: AP/Ed Zurga
The plan for Saturday night was to do something other than watch an NFL playoff game. There were five others to be played over the weekend, and there was that Peacock streaming hassle to deal with, so I decided to take a pass.
Then I texted my wife a screenshot of the Kansas City weather forecast. That was all it took. Soon we were, in fact, watching an NFL playoff game on Saturday night.
Look, I get it: Games in extreme weather like that in Kansas City and then Buffalo are fun. They’re different. Intriguing. Visually interesting.
The subzero temperatures for Miami-Kansas City surely contributed to the average of 23 million viewers, a triumph for the first playoff game exclusively available on a livestream (plus local TV in the two teams’ home markets).
And video of Bills fans shoveling out their stadium on Sunday and Monday were predictably impressive and on-brand for hardy western New Yorkers.
But please do not call it “football weather.” That term has been twisted far beyond its original meaning, which translated to “autumn weather.”
This is “basketball weather,” which is why basketball teams play with roofs over their heads and heating systems humming.
The NFL and its fans are in denial that the league has turned football into a winter sport, at least for its biggest games, and that is a problem.
Bad weather happens in the fall, of course. Sometimes that means extreme cold or snow or wind or rain. That’s fine. Part of the deal.
But by shifting both the regular season and playoffs deeper and deeper into the dead of winter, bad weather has gone from a quirk to a design feature.
The Ice Bowl was cold as heck, but at least it was played on New Year’s Eve, 1967, and the only game that followed it was neutral-site, warm-weather Super Bowl II.
This season? There will be 28 regular-season and playoff games in January before a neutral-site, warm-weather SB LVIII.
And this only is going to get worse in the near future when the NFL finally reaches the summit of a mountain it’s been climbing for decades and plants its Super Bowl flag on Presidents Weekend.
That will be good for Super Bowl partyers, many of whom will not have school or work the next day, but it will mean conference championship games in February.
Again: Bad weather is part of the game, and during the regular season, it can be a fun novelty act.
The NFL is a three-hour television show above all else, and sometimes changes of pace can be an entertaining plot device, like the “Brady Bunch” going on vacation in Hawaii. (Ask your parents.)
But for the season’s most important games, wouldn’t we prefer a true test of the teams’ abilities rather than some sort of macho endurance contest?
Why not play Game 7 of the NBA Finals in Death Valley? Or on the deck of the Intrepid? Or the court in Patrick Mahomes’ home? Think of the visuals! Think of the challenge! Think of the ratings!
In the regular season, outdoor NHL games are fun. In the Stanley Cup playoffs, they would be an absurdity.
This take is in the minority, I know.
When Bay Shore’s own Shaun Morash made a similar point on WFAN recently, his colleagues quickly and unanimously shot him down. Same with my friends and colleagues. But it’s OK for everyone else to be wrong.
There is an obvious solution to this football-in-winter problem, but it will take decades to fully employ: domes, retractable or otherwise.
The trend already is in that direction. The last fully new open stadium was the 49ers’ Levi’s Stadium in 2014, and the last in a cold-weather area was MetLife Stadium in 2010.
But wait: The Bills have a new stadium coming, set to open in 2026, and it will not have a roof, although it will have some protection over seating areas.
Sigh. I was recently looking at an image of the front page of the Sept. 30, 1969, Buffalo Evening News, with this banner headline: “$39 Million Sports Dome Proposed.”
Many fans wanted it. Bills owner Ralph Wilson wanted it. A site was identified in Lancaster, east of the city. But the cost eventually ballooned to $70 million, and the current, less expensive stadium is what we got.
More than a half-century later, there still will be no dome in western New York.
Keep shoveling, Buffalo!
Neil Best first worked at Newsday in 1982, returned in 1985 after a detour to Alaska and has been here since, specializing in high schools, college basketball, the NFL and most recently sports media and business.
