The Meaning of Life

Whelp, we watched the Browns. My daughter mostly slept. Instead of her Cleveland Browns dress (see last post), she wore a gray-and-white onesie with two smiling koala bears—little bear clinging to the back of a bigger bear. It says “I love hanging out with mom.” Check it:

koala

I watched the Browns with hate in my heart. Not for the football team and its players. I hate Browns management for trading turbo-truck Trent Richardson last week for a draft pick. These are old white men with huge egos. They decided it was OK to give away an entire year of football, because they’re so smart they can fix the team with draft picks.

They made the team worse on purpose. Who the fuck are these guys—Mike Lombardi and Joe Banner—that they don’t think they should be judged for the product on the field right now?

Against the Vikings yesterday, the team started quarterback Brian Hoyer, who has started one NFL game (a loss) and been cut by three teams. His first possession was a one-yard three-and-out. His second possession, Hoyer faded back and threw the ball directly into the ground, like a spike. It slipped. Landed a foot in front of him.

But then something crazy happened. The Browns started playing pretty well. Two plays after the spike, Hoyer threw a deep touchdown along the left sideline to Josh Gordon, a beast receiver newly returned from two-game drug suspension. Gordon is 6-foot-3, 225, and fast. A touchdown! More followed.

With one minute left, the Browns were losing by three points. They had the ball seven yards away from the end zone. Trent Richardson was far away, getting ready for his first game with the Colts. His replacement on the Browns, Willis McGahee, had nine yards on eight carries.

One minute. Ball on the seven. Down 3. Hoyer’s first pass goes out of the end zone. Hoyer’s second pass goes over the end zone. My wife, sitting beside me with baby in her arms, says “And they have no one who can run it, right?” Right.

Hoyer’s third pass is a perfect lob, over the defender and into the big waiting hands of tight end Jordan Cameron. TOUCHDOWN! The Browns won, 31-27. Their inexperienced quarterback threw 54 passes. Trent Richardson’s first carry for the Colts was a touchdown.

So, yeah, I couldn’t quit the Browns. Sue me. It’s in the blood.

I sent the previous blog, about the Richardson trade and my three-week-old daughter wearing a Browns dress, to Cleveland Plain Dealer sports columnist Terry Pluto. His response was this:

All I can say is someone with a good wife, family and daughter has a lot to be thankful for..

As I get older, I have learned that the hard way…dealing with my dad’s stroke, and then him dying…my mother died instantly of a heart attack. I My wife of 36 years is one of God’s great gifts to me…

Family is there long after whatever the Browns do or don’t do.

terry

Jesus, dude.

I guess that’s true. The Trent trade’s done, right? Over. And anyway we’re talking about guys playing a game.

They make these beer commercials about whether fans can do superstitious little things to help their teams win. If it is possible to harness Universe Power for our favorite teams, it can’t happen through complaining and being angry. And If I’m pissed off and rude and negative about football, my daughter is probably going to wind up disliking the sport because it made daddy’s eyes bulge.

If you’ve been around sports fans who scream or smash stuff when plays go badly, you know how terrible that can be. Little children are sensitive to rage.

It turns out this year’s Cleveland Browns can win. Now they just need to find a running back. I’m sure they will. Laah.

Those assholes managing the team better hope they nail next year’s draft. Somewhere in their arrogant souls they know they’ve got basically a coin flip’s chance. Maybe the picks will be so good they win the Super Bowl.

 

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