A Brown out

I was in a fog Sunday.

I think I was at the Cleveland Browns home opener, but now that I think about it, I’m not exactly sure.

I may have been locked inside a dark theatre with continuously looping black and white movie footage of Fred Astaire and Ginger Rogers wowing the audience by hoofing around the stage.

That’s because I was actually watching the Browns game and it was the same old song and dance.

Penalties, a porous offensive line, no imagination with regard to play calling, defensive lapses, Charlie Frye running for his life and, of course, an opening day loss. Yep, it was the same old, same old from those guys in brown and orange who are 1-6 in openers since returning to the NFL in 1999.

Not even the Buckeyes’ big win over Texas Saturday night could take the edge off what I witnessed at Browns Stadium Sunday.

I don’t know why I put myself through it year, after year, after year. I guess the Browns know how to sweet talk me. They whisper sweet nothings in my ear using words like: “Seldom have we experienced and off-season as exciting as the one that just passed. After an unforgettable free agency period and a successful draft the momentum continues.”

That’s the love note from the Browns I received in the mail right after I opened my checkbook and plunked down $440 for my 2006 season tickets. After seven years of the same old song and dance I’m starting to think it’s not money well spent.

I feel like a jilted lover that’s given their ex the benefit of the doubt one too many times.

The Browns first play from scrimmage, a 74-yard touchdown bomb from Frye to Braylon Edwards, made me as giddy as a school boy with a crush on the little girl in pigtails sitting in front of him. And the yellow flags that littered the field signaling a holding penalty and negating the touchdown was like seeing that girl in pigtails holding hands with my best friend at recess.

All I could think was here we go again. I was right.

The Browns got all of three first downs in the first half. At one point midway through the second quarter, standing in line at the concession stand and fed up, I called my brother on my cell phone and told him I was not coming back to sit down until the Browns get a first down and I didn’t care if it took all season.

Not once, but twice, on third and less and a yard, Browns offensive coordinator Maurice Carthon brought back up fullback Vicars onto the field and tried a sweep to move the chains. Both plays failed miserably.

As a Browns fan and season ticket holder, the play-calling was downright offensive, pardon the pun.

For me, the Browns are like that relative that calls you up for a favor and that you can never say no to or that bad penny you can never get rid of.

If you are a Browns fan in the new era, you are a moth drawn to the flame of a candle in a dark room. You know you are going to get burned.

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