ORCHARD PARK, N.Y. — In a brief but poignant statement released late Tuesday afternoon, former Buffalo Bills head coach Sean McDermott addressed the extraordinary wave of fan support that flooded the team’s One Bills Drive headquarters over the past several weeks. More than 45,000 handwritten letters, postcards, emails, and even a few creatively decorated care packages arrived pleading for his return to the sideline. The response was unlike anything the organization had seen in its modern history.
“Thank you,” McDermott wrote in the carefully worded message. “The outpouring of love and belief from Bills Mafia has meant more to me and my family than words can express. But my mission with the Bills is over. I will move on, and so will the Buffalo Bills.”
The declaration effectively ends months of speculation, petition drives, and emotional rallies outside Highmark Stadium that had kept McDermott’s name alive in Western New York long after his surprising departure. For many fans, the statement feels less like closure and more like the final scene of a love story that never quite reached its Hollywood ending.
McDermott’s tenure in Buffalo, which spanned nearly a decade, transformed a perennial also-ran into one of the most consistently competitive franchises in the AFC. He inherited a 6–10 team in 2017 and, within four years, had engineered back-to-back 13-win seasons, an appearance in the AFC Championship Game, and—most memorably—the franchise’s first playoff victory in 25 years. The sight of snow-covered fans chanting his name after that January 2021 win over the Indianapolis Colts remains one of the defining images of the modern Bills era.
Yet the relationship was never simple. Critics pointed to conservative play-calling in big moments, clock-management controversies, and a perceived inability to solve the postseason riddle against Patrick Mahomes and the Kansas City Chiefs. Supporters countered that McDermott built the culture, instilled discipline, and—perhaps most importantly—made Buffalo believe again. To millions in Bills Mafia, he wasn’t just a coach; he was one of them.
That bond exploded into view after reports surfaced that the Bills were moving in a new direction. Within days, a grassroots campaign called “Bring Sean Back” went viral on social media. Supporters printed T-shirts, launched GoFundMe pages to cover postage for letters, and organized tailgate-style gatherings in parking lots near the team facility. Some drove hundreds of miles just to drop off envelopes in person. One viral video showed a grandfather and his three grandsons mailing 127 letters, each one numbered and signed by every family member.
By early winter, the Bills mailroom had to bring in temporary staff to handle the volume. Team employees described opening envelopes containing everything from children’s crayon drawings of McDermott hoisting the Lombardi Trophy to multi-page letters recounting how the coach’s postgame speeches helped fans through personal hardships—cancer diagnoses, job losses, military deployments.
The sheer scale of the effort—45,000-plus pieces of correspondence—dwarfed previous fan campaigns in Buffalo and arguably any in recent NFL history. For context, when the Bills retired Thurman Thomas’s number in 2018, the team received roughly 8,000 fan letters over several months. This was different. This was personal.
McDermott, who has remained largely out of the public eye since leaving, clearly felt the weight of that devotion. Sources close to the former coach say he spent several evenings reading the letters aloud to his wife and children. He reportedly kept hundreds of them in a box in his home office, a tangible reminder of the connection he forged in a football-mad city.
In his statement, McDermott made no mention of future plans—neither ruling out nor confirming interest in other head-coaching vacancies. League insiders believe several teams, including a handful in warm-weather markets with established quarterbacks, have already reached out informally. Yet the tone of his message suggested a man at peace with walking away from the only NFL head-coaching job he ever wanted.
“I gave everything I had to this organization and this community,” he continued in the statement. “The highs were higher than I ever dreamed, and even the lows taught me lessons I’ll carry forever. Buffalo didn’t just change my career—it changed my life.”
For Bills fans, the words landed like a bittersweet country song. Social media timelines filled with photos of letter-writing parties now gave way to images of empty mailboxes and quiet living rooms. The hashtag #ThankYouSean trended regionally for hours. One popular post read simply: “We wrote 45,000 letters to keep him. He wrote one to let us go.”
Current Bills head coach (and former McDermott assistant) has yet to comment publicly, though the organization issued a short release acknowledging McDermott’s contributions and wishing him well. Team president Russ Brandon, in a separate statement, called the fan response “a testament to the unbreakable spirit of Bills Mafia and the lasting impact Coach McDermott had on this franchise.”
As the Bills prepare for the stretch run of another promising season, the shadow of their former coach lingers. The stadium will still shake on Sundays, the tailgates will still stretch for miles, and the red-and-blue flags will still fly proudly. But something intangible has shifted. The man who helped resurrect belief in Buffalo has chosen to step aside, trusting that the culture he helped build is strong enough to stand on its own.
In the end, 45,000 letters could not change the outcome. But they did something perhaps more powerful: they reminded everyone—fans, players, front-office executives, and the coach himself—that for a fleeting, beautiful chapter, Western New York and Sean McDermott belonged to each other.
And in Buffalo, that kind of belonging is never really over.
