The Tale of Two Browns Games

This season I attended two Browns’ games in Cleveland, one with my 10-year-old stepson and one with three friends in their early thirties.  I went to each game with different expectations for what was going to constitute a good time.  I realized that based on my mindset and my chosen companions from the game, that different aspects of the NFL Sunday experience came to my attention. 

The first game, a manhandling loss by the Houston Texans with the temperature in the low twenties, was with my stepson Max.  The second game was a heart-breaking and likely season breaking loss to the Indianapolis Colts with the temperature in the low forties and included a three-hour tailgate session with my buddies. 

The Texans game was the first NFL, game that I had attended with Max, although I had taken him to see multiple Cleveland Indians games and even professional wrestling events.  The one thing that stood out to me at the Browns game compared to the other sporting events, that Max and I had attended was the language.  When I am in the proper situation around friends in a relaxed atmosphere, I will swear almost every other words and curse words have never made me cringe before, however for these three hours, I flinched with every f-bomb.  It was constant.  There were loud chants including the word, guys selling bootleg shirts with swear words on them and all of this was just in the line to get through security.  While standing in line to enter the stadium on this snowy day, literally hundreds of snowballs were chucked from the end of the line to the front of the line.  There were elderly and young children getting pelted in the back of their heads.  I was appalled by the display. 

During the game the JJ Watt and the Houston Texans defense dismantled the Browns offense and made Brian Hoyer look awful.  The catcalls came hot and heavy from the stands telling Hoyer and the rest of the offense what they should do to themselves, their mothers, and a few choice sex acts with the same sex.  Our seats were in the upper deck, or the cheap seats as they are so known, but this was hardly the DAWG Pound, the section of bleachers in the South end zone that is notorious for the rowdy costumed fans that inhabit it. 

Max and I stayed to the bitter end of an embarrassing loss.  We walked back to our car sad and with no feeling in our toes from the freezing temperatures.  We parked very far away as a group of kids in their twenties lobbed snow balls at us from across the street.  I looked around to see if there was a Texans fan or even worse a Steelers fan that had escaped from the mental institution, but no only dejected Browns fans trudging along the slush to their cars.  I couldn’t figure out why these kids, kids because anyone younger that me is a kid, had just decided to be awful to strangers.  I got in the car with Max and had lost a lot of faith in the Browns, Brian Hoyer, Browns fans, and the city of Cleveland. 

Despite my above stated disappointments, I returned two weeks later with my friends to watch the Browns and the Colts play a pivotal game.  This game day started hours earlier as we arrived hours before kickoff to enjoy beers in the cold to prepare for the game.  We parked in the same lot as I had with Max and proceeded to commence to the drinking and playing of cornhole.  We kept to ourselves but 4 different gentlemen came up to us to ask for money.  We chatted about life and the Browns, but mainly about life.  The Browns game was something we were going to attend but during the tailgating it didn’t seem to be the reason we were there.  We were just hanging out and having a good time. 

We headed off to the game but first had to stop in the restroom with all of the other tailgaters who were full of their choice beverages.  The bathroom was full of constant “Here we go Brownies, here we go!” chants.  A few guys repeatedly tried to get a “F*** the Colts” chant going, but no one obliged considering the non-existent rivalry between the two teams. 

We headed to our seats that were basically the same as where I sat the previous game.  We were on the lakeside of the stadium and the wind was whipping through our section. This made the temperature feel much colder than it did a few weeks ago despite the temperature being twenty degrees warmer.

This week the Browns scored two defensive touchdowns, which covered for the Browns lack of an offense. The offense was so terrible that Brian Hoyer was benched after the game and so the Johnny Manziel era could start with a loud wet fart against the Bengals.  The game was interesting and the Browns were robbed on a few close calls.  Strangely the Browns kept replaying the bad calls on the large screen.  I thought they were trying to start a riot similar to the bottle-throwing incident against the Jacksonville Jaguars years ago. 

The Browns of course gave up a touchdown in the final seconds to once again lose and put a huge dent in their playoff hopes.  That will get placed in my memory banks along with all of the other disappointments in my Browns fandom. 

The most memorable moment from the game would have to be the homeless gentleman who somehow managed to get into the game.  He decided that the best place in First Energy Stadium to hang out in would be right behind us in the upper deck.  I noticed the overwhelming smell of fecal matter early in the second quarter.  After determining that it wasn’t coming from the Browns' offensive huddle, we realized that the smell was coming from the man in the row behind us.  He had soiled himself.  He walked down the stairs in front of us with his Hershey stains clearly visible though his pants. 

We thought the crisis had been averted when the guy returns after halftime with visible diarrhea on his bare hands.  He continued to sit behind us and every time he shifted his weight, the burning smell of feces would punch you in the face.  The Browns made a huge interception and returned it for a touchdown.  My friends and I jumped and exchanged high fives… It was a great moment, until the possibly infectious disease covered and definitely crap covered hands of our neighbor, gave my still extended in jubilation hand an unwanted and unwarranted high-five.  My life flashed before my eyes as I quickly ran down to the concourse to wash my hands. 

After spending two whole Sundays with different people at Cleveland Browns stadium and witnessing two losses, I have to ask myself why.  Why do I allow myself to be pestered by scammers and beggars before the game.  Why do I pay exorbitant fees just to park my car some where.  Why do I sit in the cold to watch a game from further away than I can see on my big screen TV at home?  Why do I listen to drunks swear, scream and make no sense?  It is because it feels good to be apart of the crowd, to have the energy of the crowd shake your body, the building anticipation while partying before the game.  It all feels good, win, lose, or draw and more than likely lose.  There are those moments in the game when 73,200 people jump up together and cheer.  When the Browns finally make a play and a stadium of people release all of the frustration that this team has laid upon them for years, lifts for a moment, I want to be there hands raised, high fiving 73,199 Browns fans.  There is one that I obviously don’t want to high five again…unless it is in the Super Bowl.

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