Austin Davis named Browns starting quarterback
December 2, 2015Ezekiel Elliott named Big Ten Offensive Player and Running Back of the Year
December 2, 2015In the emotional and psychological wreckage outside FirstEnergy Stadium after perhaps the Browniest of all the Cleveland Browns losses, amidst the angry expletives and exhausted sighs and maniacal laughs and calls for heads, between all the fully grown fans trying to make sense of the latest knot in a never-ending string of impossibly painful defeats, a young fan walked with his parents clutching a piece of paper. It was battered but — unlike the team, one could argue — it still held its integrity. It was meant to be a keepsake akin to a photograph from the first day of school or a ticket stub from a first date at the movies.
It was a certificate commemorating, if you’ll allow some light bastardization of the word, his very first Browns home game. Welcome to the party, kid.
What can be said? Whether or not that sort of question is rhetorical, I can’t tell anymore. Perhaps we should ask questions that would seem absurd if they didn’t seem so pertinent, as when a friend from Boston texted me to inquire, “What unicorn or mythical creature did y’all kill to have this consistent karma?” or when another friend from Cleveland wondered, “What did we do in a former life to deserve this?” Maybe it’s worth trying to figure out the karmic implications. I’ve always thought curses were a load of hooey, but maybe there’s something to them. Maybe the stadium is built atop some ancient ruins. Maybe Art Modell sold his soul not for the Ravens to win a Super Bowl, but to ensure that the Browns never would. Maybe it’s because of Chief Wahoo. Maybe there is something supernatural conspiring to keep the Browns down.
I don’t actually believe in any sort of curses, but after a game like that it’s hard not to at least entertain the possibility.
Maybe this is the pendulum swinging back to erode the good feeling of Thanksgiving. Maybe there must be a yin to every yang, and spirits couldn’t remain too high all through the new year. Perhaps another friend was on to something when he texted a group of us: “So guys, here’s the deal…We have great friends…All of us are doing well…Happy and healthy in most phases of our life…We just had Thanksgiving — think of all the things we have to be grateful for…This is just God’s way of evening it out.” Maybe there’s something to that. Maybe, like Tyler Durden says in Fight Club, we have to consider the possibility that God does not like us; that he never wanted us; that, in all probability, he hates us. Maybe the Browns are the clearest and cleanest example of that.
I don’t actually believe this is the case, but after a game like that it’s hard not to at least entertain the possibility.
Maybe this is a sign that it’s time to give up. Maybe we were better off in those few years without the Browns. Maybe all of this energy and emotion and heartache just isn’t worth it. Maybe we should spend our Sundays loving our families or pruning our gardens or washing our cars instead. Maybe this was the little push over the edge we needed to realize that our days on this planet are finite and that there are myriad better ways to spend them than hoping for sustained competence from an organization that has proven as adept at building a winner as the Washington Generals. Maybe we should toss our sunk cost in the lake and move on.
I don’t actually feel this way, but after a game like that it’s hard not to at least entertain the possibility.
How did you react when the Ravens returned that blocked field goal for the game-winning touchdown on Monday Night Football? Did you yell? Did you scream? Did you laugh? Did you break something? Did you cry? Or were you too stunned to do anything?
I fell into that last camp. I couldn’t believe it, except of course I could believe it. This was the Browns upping the ante. Like Newton or Einstein or Copernicus, they force us to reconsider what is possible. Forget the motivational slogans and sneaker ads saying impossible is nothing. For the Browns, unbelievable is nothing. Nothing but a hurdle to be leaped over, set up, and leaped over again.
There are scores of examples from which to choose. Everyone has a favorite. How about Orlando Brown catching a penalty flag in the eye? I’d never seen that before. Dwayne Rudd’s helmet toss will always be close to my heart. I’d never seen that before either. Sometimes the unbelievable is good, like Phil Dawson touching every part of the goal post and inspiring a new rule in the process. I’d never seen that before. Sometimes the unbelievable is bad enough to inspire a hailstorm of bottles. I’d never seen that bef–you get the idea.
You all know this stuff as well as I do. I hate to fall back on it time and again. It’s cliche, but it’s familiar, and familiarity is a powerful thing when you’re trying to make sense of disappointment.
I don’t like being angry, but I’d like to be angrier right now. Or maybe sadder. Or more frustrated. Right now I don’t feel any of that. I don’t feel much of anything. I’ve tried to advocate loyalty and keeping the flame of fandom burning, but even something as awesome as fire can only stand up to so much.
As for that young man taking in his first Browns home game, I wish I could tell you that there’s nowhere to go but up. I wish I could tell you that this is as bad as it gets. I wish I could tell you that there is a sunrise for every set. I wish I could tell you that. But Browns fandom is no fairy tale world. There isn’t much to do but hope for better. But if you do that, be warned: There is little reason to believe that better is coming any time soon.
6 Comments
My ten-year-old son and I went to the game Monday night – his second – and I felt like he left really understanding what it feels like to be a Browns fan. As we walked down the ramp from 525, over the profanity-laced drunk fan beside us he said, “Dad, it’s not like it’s even anyone’s fault. I mean who do you blame?” Indeed, who is left to blame but some esoteric football God who continues to piss all over the football teams that wear the orange and brown and play on the shore of Lake Erie.
My 9-year old nephew went to Monday’s game for his first, too. I called him before he entered the gates and he was so excited, he could barely talk. You could tell this was a day he was sure to remember for the rest of his life, even before kickoff.
Watching the kick-six nearly broke my heart. Not for the Browns — after all these years, my heart feels nothing for them — but for my nephew. To go into that factory of sadness with his level of excitement and joy and walk out after seeing that end, I thought surely he would be a broken shell, much like the people from the reaction videos that were on display. Surely, he now knew what it meant and felt to be a Browns fan.
I called him on Tuesday, and amazingly he sounded pretty good. He regaled me with everything he did that day: got a new Haden jersey, a hat, and a foam finger; walked around the stadium; high fived other fans; ate 2 hot dogs; visited the Dawg Pound; and got a free Browns towel. I asked him what he thought about the Browns and somehow he’s even a bigger fan of them now. He didn’t say a single word about the walk out of the stadium or the kick-six, so I can only hope it’s been forever blacked out of his mind.
I know he’ll learn what it really means to be a Browns fan in due time, but at least for now he’s pretty upbeat about everything. The resilience of a 9-year old I supposed. And hey, at least he can say he was at “The Kick-Six” game when he gets older, much like I have Bottlegate and Dwayne Rudd’s Helmet Toss.
No child should be subjected to this version of the Cleveland Browns. If anything teach them about the early days when this organization was one of the best. That’s the real Cleveland Browns not this reanimated monster that was brought back to life in 1999. This thing should be put down!
great post …
nah … she just needs a little love , hard work & a little luck.
It needs tough love not excuse making maybe that’s part of the problem.