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.
Follow me on Twitter @Ferrellcomedy or email me at
MattFerrell75@gmail.com
