This is your official language warning.

Being a Browns fan is once again the worst fuckin’ gig in sports.

Was it ever not? Who’s to say. But Cleveland, Ohio’s professional football team and everyone who associates with it once again find themselves at the center of comically negative attention.

Fans across all social media platforms are already prepping to repeat some of the practices they adopted during the 1-31 era: cutting eye holes in paper bags, drowning their weekend sorrows in alcohol, and, as they’re all too familiar with, expecting to lose.

Sunday, October 20th, began with what was supposed to finally be some relief for the 1-5 Browns. The return of Nick Chubb who, with absolutely no disrespect to Myles Garrett, has been the heartbeat of the club since he assumed RB1 duties, was the lifeline the city of Cleveland was clinging to since the Guardians playoff elimination a day prior. Win, lose, or draw, we could be happy to see 24 back on the field, and maybe even get a divisional win. At BARE MINIMUM, we get back in the good vibes column with Chubb’s presence alone.

And, in a way that seemingly only this team can, they tore their fans’ hopes and dreams away as quickly as they could.

That’s not hyperbole, by the way.

They allowed the first Bengals 100-yard punt return in several years on the kickoff. The goddamn first play of the game. No slow burn, and an instant explosion of despair.

Follow that up by more lackluster offensive play through the first quarter, and folks were smelling another crap-fest like all the other losses this season. But then Deshaun Watson started to move the chains…

Friendly reminder that 4 was booed pretty heavily during the opening intro portion of this game, a moment in which the patrons of Huntington Bank Field actually reacted justly on the day. Watson has spent just shy of 60% of Browns games during his tenure with the team not on the field up to this point. Most of the time he was in uniform was marred with inconsistent play. The lawsuits have been talked about ad nauseam, so I’ll let the rest of the planet further degrade his character if they’d like to. For me, I’ve been watching sports for awhile, as you might expect from a guy who maintains a cute little blog for himself at the ripe age of 27.

Unfortunately, a combination of time and good play seemingly heals all wounds in sportsville; we’ve seen it time and time again across multiple planes, but particularly in the NFL. Balling out never excuses the behavior, and not for nothin’, but how can all 20+ accusers be liars? But again, elite performance does aid the public in forgetting. Needless to say, Watson’s play gave us no reason to even begin that process, only brief moments of optimism.

And boy, do I mean brief.

Aside from few good moments towards the end of 2022, the rest of those 6 games was excused by rust. Those were erased by a ‘meh’ 2023 start in which he, once more, didn’t play all the games. Then finally, one singular 230-million fully guaranteed performance in Baltimore made us finally feel like our guy had arrived. We had hung in there through the court process, let him heal and go through growing pains, and never fully let go of that dream that the organization finally made the right gamble after decades of malpractice and embarrassment. He vanquished a division rival, who’s inflicted torture percentages are outranked only by Pittsburgh, through a bum leg and meaty 4th quarter deficit.

Had the football gods finally smiled back at its most loathed little gremlin of a franchise?

No.

Watson goes down with two season ending injuries (yes plural), Joe Flacco and friends put lightning in a bottle that fizzles as soon as the playoffs start, a bunch of good coaches go out the door, they don’t resign Flacco to protect Watson’s ego, and they go into another season with more questions rather than answers.

Insert a dreadful start, the best Browns receiver in years shipped out before the quarterback is even benched, let alone cut, and one ruptured Achilles tendon, and suddenly they’re right back where they’ve been almost my entire life: directionless, with a fanbase that hates both the team and themselves, and once again, no FUCKING good quarterback in sight.

Might it end there? Not if any associated with this team can help it.

Browns fans have been through just about more than any fanbase in professional sports can handle. Don’t mention teams who have since broken their curses to me, or newer franchises who just never got off the ground. Or even just teams that have endured some tough losses in tough spots. No one does suffering like these guys.

The Browns don’t just withhold the tradition. They take every opportunity they can to make a spectacle out of it. The headlining stars in their own pitiful pageant of pain. The ugliest horse on a merry-go-round that makes everyone who rides it throw up instead of smile.

And now, they stand before you as the folks who handed out the first fully guaranteed contract in history, and had it completely turn to mulch every step of the way.

So, am I surprised some dickheads in attendance (and probably some at home) cheered when their nightmare appeared to show signs of closure when he went down? Honestly, no. And don’t be stupid either, like I said, I’ve been around awhile now.

I know you don’t cheer when anyone gets hurt. Ever. Period.

Browns media in the building said there wasn’t a wave of cheering, but certainly not just a few here and there. And they also said the amount of fans taking measures to correct those losers was many. But nevertheless, you could hear it, and it wasn’t good. At all. While I agree with fans that defending Watson like a martyr at this juncture isn’t reinforcing any bridges, but what are the players supposed to do? Agree with their own fans booing their home QB at their newest low? Both sides have a beef.

But I call back to Raptors fans having their moment when Kevin Durant went down in the 2019 NBA Finals. The unstoppable Warriors added the league’s best individual scorer in a blink. Not even the modern GOAT could even stain their armor. No one could. And anytime someone appeared to have a chance, they were quickly doused by the Warriors’ will. So when KD came up limp, it felt like an inescapable terror finally showing a sign of weakness, a potential way out of an unavoidable trap.

That’s how good the Warriors were during that run, and how hopeless the rest of us felt. Now, for our story, imagine the polar opposite: a group of fans despairingly chained to a chair, watching their favorite team vigilantly reciprocating their love and affection with decades of agony. And in the latest chapter in their cavalcade of torment, their worst yet given what it cost the team in resources, they were displayed a glimpse of an ending, almost out of no where.

They didn’t react with joy at an injury, they were shocked the universe showed them mercy.

Whatever your stance, we can all pretty much agree that Deshaun Watson has played his last game as a Cleveland Brown. Whether or not he plays again in the NFL is a question none of us have an answer to, but a team willing to gamble their PR on a guy with 3 career-ending injuries, more bad than good footballing on his resume, and those however many misconduct cases seems unlikely (I realized writing this I don’t even know the number anymore, but it’s going to just keep growing and I’m tired of depressingly Googling this guy, so whatever).

But the only thing that matters now for myself and Browns folks everywhere is that we’re back in the gutter. Again.

Players and coaches aren’t happy with the fans. Fans aren’t happy with the players and coaches. Neither parties are exemplifying morals and standards that make much sense. Neither parties are giving the other much to be happy about with their actions on the field and off of it. The best outcome is again as many losses as possible, and this time it’s costing us a record amount of money to do it.

And nothing brings people separated by vehement disagreement together like the swells of losing.

So I wish you all a happy and fruitful NFL season. Enjoy your ups and your downs, your peaks and your valleys. And most of all, cherish your normal fan experience.

We’ll be here, further filling the clown car of failed quarterbacks, high-diving in our own self-drawn acid pool, and taking a bow whenever you need a good laugh at our sorrow.

“Fear not Dawgpound! Another lottery pick! There’s some great guys on the board, and one of them is our savior!”

I would say ‘give me a fuckin’ break.’ But we know it’s not coming.

So many questions. So much more suffering to endure. So many more drunken rants to my wife. Probably even some tears, which for those who know me, know are hard to come by.

But one thing’s for certain. I ain’t goin’ no where.

1 ticket to the shit show, please.

Cheers.