c. 2020 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(1-20)
In 2014, while
feeling the effects of leadership chaos and losing in my home sports
market, I penned a letter to Cleveland Browns owner Jimmy Haslam.
Recently, this plea seemed to echo from the past as once again, bold
plans by Lake Erie turned to sour grapes. A bitter beverage for those
who had waited so long to taste success.
I decided to write
Mr. Haslam again. What follows here is the text of my letter:
To:
Jimmy Haslam
The Cleveland
Browns
76 Lou Groza
Boulevard
Berea, OH 44017
Dear Mr. Haslam,
I wrote you six
years ago regarding the state of our beloved NFL franchise. If asked
at that distant time how a letter composed in this new decade might
have been phrased, I would have guessed that it might contain much
praise and celebration over the accomplishments of this team. But
instead, today, I come to you with a sober review that seems to
borrow its tone from the movie ‘Groundhog Day.’
Once again, as a
native of Ohio and a longtime fan, I must plead with you to ponder
carefully the course set for this professional football club.
Since firing Head
Coach Freddie Kitchens and parting company with General Manager John
Dorsey, you have offered us familiar assurances about ‘getting this
right.’ But any thoughtful observer would be forced to say that
after years of owning this enterprise, you have not shown an ability
to perceive ‘right’ in any form. Instead, your impulsive, zig-zag
course has charted failure masterfully, while plundering the loyalty
and goodwill of football fans by Lake Erie.
After losing the
old Browns in 1995, a wave of black-and-yellow spilled across
northeastern Ohio. But under your leadership, this pitiful tide has
deepened as some fans engaged in self-loathing, and worship of what
was once considered a game-day rival. Their ability to face
southeast, and kowtow before the looming shadow of Pittsburgh, has
become a phenomenon both horrifying and tragic in its scope. Yet when
analyzed, this dreadful act comes from a persistent mood of failure
that has been distilled to a potent and poison essence under your
ownership.
I have neighbors
in my community who took joy from traveling to Heinz Field where they
donned Steelers attire and rooted vociferously against our hometown
group. Indeed, they cheered loudly over a loss by the Browns. Such
behavior, at first, seemed akin to those who have renounced American
citizenship in order to fight for a group like ISIS or Al Qaeda. But
in the end, I realized that their primary motivation was simple and
even logical.
They could not
stand to be associated with perpetual losing.
Comedian Mike
Polk Jr. coined the phrase ‘Factory of Sadness’ which I am sure
you have heard repeated many times. It describes our despair with
brevity and wit. Also, with the deadly accuracy of a guided missile.
We began this
season with genuine hope. With an impressive roster of athletes and
ambition for the league playoffs. Even those who were not followers
of the team agreed that better things lay ahead for the Cleveland
Browns. But instead, this dazzling bunch of gladiators-on-the-field
produced results that were too familiar for those of us wearing the
colors. Missed opportunities, a general lack of preparation,
self-aggrandizement instead of hard work, and drama. Art Modell must
be laughing in his tomb. While no one here can crack a smile.
Except of course,
for the Steelers fans in our neighborhoods.
Once again,
throughout the summer, I will talk about Otto Graham, Jim Brown,
Frank Ryan, Bernie Kosar, and Ozzie Newsome. I will consume cold beer
while watching the Cleveland Indians. I will mutter to myself about
the fact that only LeBron James has brought winning of any kind to
this region, a moment which now seems too brief and sadly surreal.
Personally, I
would never sell my loyalty to experience the joy of winning. But I
admit that my fandom in general, my interest in the game itself, has
waned. With twenty years of befuddlement and drudgery having passed,
I no longer care in my heart. I have grown used to dark emotions with
my brew and nachos on Sunday. The sting of defeat has passed. I
expect to be taunted after every loss. After every firing. After
every meltdown of the franchise. After every rearrangement of the
front office.
Baker Mayfield,
Nick Chubb, Myles Garrett, Odell Beckham, Jr. - these names quickened
the pulse of Cleveland and dispelled our collective gloom. Yet again,
we have arrived at the season’s end with bellies full of regret.
I humbly ask that
somehow, you break out of the cycle followed since your acquisition
of this team. What I and many fans consider to be ‘our’ team.
I ask you to
kneel in your office, and pray with folded hands to our patron, St.
Paul Eugene Brown. Help of Cleveland and those who despair over
failure on the gridiron. Ask him for guidance and enlightenment. And
then, pray again, for all of us, the fans.
To
expect that things will change is quite literally, an act of lunacy.
The reborn Browns franchise from 1999 has shown no ability to master
any of the skills required for lasting accomplishment in the NFL. But
loyalty and determination push me forward. To abandon my identity and
my home is unthinkable. I would never wear the garb of a hated rival
to nullify my own sorrow. Only one medicine can heal such injuries.
Winning.
I
will be waiting once again with my beer and nachos as the 2020 season
begins.
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‘Words on the Loose’ may be sent to: icewritesforyou@gmail.com
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