Why we jump: How diving onto tables at Bills games became a thing that even Taylor Swift talks about
Buffalo Bills tailgaters captured the internet jumping through tables. But there's a deeper background to the pastime. Where does it come from and why does it represent Buffalo perfectly?
Even when he was headed off to college in Charleston, S.C., Patrick Mahany always knew he wanted to come home.
Born a Buffalo Bills fan and practically raised in the subzero parking lots at Highmark Stadium, his love for the franchise played a role in his desire to return. But when he came back in 2018, he couldn’t imagine what he would find waiting at the tailgates he grew up attending.
“They’re jumping through tables, man!” he said, recounting his reaction to the Buffalo fan base’s newest pastime.
“There have always been things that make this group different from others. … There are all these lucky traditions. But that one was different, and I was interested immediately.”
Since 2019, Mahany has jumped through at least one folding table each season. From the outside, it comes off as lunacy. He wouldn’t push back at that. It isn’t for the feeble. However, the history and nature of table-breaking represents a piece of Buffalo – its passion and resilience, embodied in a long-held tradition that Bills fans are one of a kind.
And maybe a little nuts.
It is challenging to pin down the origin of such an unusual activity, but the concept has a lot of competition amid Buffalo’s recent history. Before man took to launching himself through the air, he would spin in circles with his head on a bat during tailgates, otherwise known as “dizzy bat.” As a Vine video circulated in 2015 (Vine predated TikTok, kids) in which a man spun and stumbled into a pole, Orchard Park authorities cracked down on the number of intoxicated human fidget spinners dancing outside the Bills’ facilities.
It was far from the first fan foray into tailgating weirdness. After all, this is the same fan base that normalized drinking alcohol out of bowling balls and squirting condiments on each other.
But now, table jumping is as inextricably linked to the Buffalo Bills as snow-globe Sundays and Super Bowl disappointment.
CBS Sports’ “The NFL Today” host Nate Burleson jumps through a table outside Highmark Stadium before the game between the Buffalo Bills and Kansas City Chiefs last November.
Harry Scull Jr., News file photo
The nation notices
When the CBS pregame show broadcast from the stadium parking lot last year, the on-air talent partook. (Nate Burleson’s effort is generally considered among the best.) But that’s nothing compared to being mentioned by Taylor Swift during her ”New Heights” podcast appearance with the Kelce brothers, including newly minted fiancé and Bills villain Travis. The elder Kelce, Jason, asked her if she knew that his wife, Kylie, had warned him to be on his best behavior when he met Swift.“I didn’t know what you were told,” Swift responded. “I did know that one of the first things I saw you say to Kylie (was), ‘I was just shotgunning beers with the Bills Mafia and I really want to go through one of the fire tables.’ … She goes, ‘OK. Can we not do that right now?’ ”
If you get a shoutout from Taylor Swift, you’re officially a thing.
As for the pioneer table-jumper? It is all open to speculation, fuzzy tales and folklore.
One story has it that a Lackawanna liquor store owner fell from a car roof through a table circa 2016, prompting celebration and a few copycats. But pretty much every liquor store owner in Lackawanna and even South Buffalo either questioned the tale’s accuracy or would not comment.
Others claim the tradition has been going on far longer, with tailgates in the 2000s occasionally featuring similar antics.
“This is a WWE town,” said Ashleigh Dopp, a lifelong Bills fan and tailgate organizer, referencing professional wrestling. “We’ve had people doing crazy things for years. How this happened? I don’t know. I also don’t know why fire is involved.”
While it is rare that the table one jumps through is ablaze (it has occurred, though; Dopp will assure you), there is an unlikely art to the madness.
Bills fan Dave Melgar of Buffalo jumps into a table at a Bills party in a lot across the street from Arrowhead Stadium in Kansas City, Mo.,
before the Buffalo Bills AFC Championship game against the Chiefs on Jan. 23, 2022. Derek Gee, News file photo
‘You can’t just fall’
Mahany, 35, is going on at least six jumps. (Although he isn’t quite sure, maybe a product of the number of portable buffets broken.) Known by the alter ego “Long-Haired Bills Fan,” the famed leaper remembers his first time, just like most others. A spike of serotonin inspired Mahany to fall from the top of a minivan at the Meadowlands before the Bills leveled the New York Jets – except he missed the table a little, landing on his feet.It can be much worse than that, though, as fans have broken shoulders in past mishaps.
To avoid such errors, Mahany believes it requires a specific form:
“You have to jump. You can’t just fall,” he said, as if teaching a class on controlled chaos. “If you don’t leap, you won’t hit it correctly, and you’ll just slide off the table. You also need to hit with your shoulder. If you lead with your head, that’s a quality way to break your spine.
“Don’t want that, do we?”
Right you are, Professor Mahany. But when one asks why, in his younger days, he first picked up the dangerous habit, Mahany’s recall gets murky.
His childhood best friend, Matt Krauza, questioned the idea when Mahany first took it upon himself to take the leap. (Krauza runs the tailgates at which Mahany jumps.)
But years later, both men see the value it provides.
“The energy level goes up 10 times,” Krauza said. “It takes the tailgate to another level, and we take a lot of pride in the environment we create before games.”
Some claim that table-breaking makes the Bills play better. To no one’s surprise, every sports psychologist contacted denied that, but there is something to be said for the environment it fosters. When one watches a table jump, the level of excitement spikes. It brings people together.
“It gets the juices flowing!” Mahany exclaims proudly.
Andre “Dre” White of Rochester jumps through a table last year. Derek Gee, News file photo
A team and its fans
In some way, there is nothing that presents the Buffalo fan base more clearly. As the second-smallest market in the NFL, the bond between town and team is more tightly knit than others, and Buffalo takes pride in the way it revolves around the Bills.That undying day-to-day interest prompts year-round discussions of roster moves, over-the-top tailgating and, well ... hijinks like this. The community cares so much for its team that in support, it’s willing to sacrifice its health, even in a horribly misguided way. What’s more prideful than that?
As the table-jumping fad has continued, though, it has dissolved into something of a meme, a caricature of itself.
When ESPN or CBS crews venture to Western New York, they watch and broadcast as fans collapse through tables and pop up, shotgunning beers.
The Savannah Bananas baseball team celebrated playing at Sahlen Field last summer by having players jump through tables. In the eyes of those organizations and other fan bases, it serves as a joke more than anything else. But there are some real-life effects.
About a mile from Highmark Stadium, a Home Depot stands between a Supercuts and a Mexican restaurant. The store has consistent customers, but during the fall, its back wall is an attraction. The piles of folding tables that sit there in early August disappear, multiple workers said.
“Sales of folding tables skyrocketed,” Don Clark, an administrator for the Bills Mafia Facebook group, agreed. “Many places ran out. The pricing also went up significantly.”
Krauza, a frequent customer, serves as the table preparer for Mahany. In his own right, he thinks of it as a skill. He knows how far the table needs to be from the vehicle Mahany stands upon. He knows when Mahany has reached a boiling point and wants to launch. He also knows what types of tables to use.
“It’s always the oldest one at the tailgate that’s already breaking,” he said. “I go up to people playing drinking games on it and swipe off the cups, walk away with it for Pat. … It’s like a retirement ceremony, in some ways.”
Once it’s snapped, the group leaves the table out, “in all its glory,” during the game. But to dissolve misconceptions of the fan base being inconsiderate, they’ll assure you it’s promptly cleaned up and thrown in the parking lot’s dumpster after each contest. Somewhere, then, rests a graveyard of sacrificed tables.
Bill Cowher of CBS' "The NFL Today" show jumps through a table from outside Highmark Stadium prior to the Buffalo Bills and Kansas City Chiefs game on Nov. 17, 2024.
Harry Scull Jr./Buffalo News
But if the fan base wants you to know one thing about the trend, it all comes from good intentions.
“It’s just the passion,” said Greg Tranter, the assistant executive director of the Pro Football Researchers Association. Hailing from Buffalo, he knows the fan base’s antics and motivations well. “They’re unique, and they find ways to express how much they care in unique ways. It’s not showboaty, in any way. It’s genuinely who they are, shaped by years of losses and failure. Truer to themselves than any other team.”
Mahany isn’t sure whether he’s going to jump through another table this fall. He’s getting older, and it’s a dangerous profession, no matter how talented one is at leaping. But there’s always the itch. He cares too much about the Bills, and even more the group around him that he’s thrusting life into with each leap.
“He said he’s retired,” Krauza said through a laugh. “But he never will be.”