I’ll admit it, I had a complete T-Rich tantrum after “The Trade” and lost my marbles. I swore my allegiance to the Saints on all social media outlets, praised Breesus and closed up shop on the Browns. I broke up with my beloved team for the 1000000th time and emphatically stated, “This is it! I AM DONE!!”
Famous last words.
Then Sunday rolled around. I was watching NOLA play and wearing my Saints/Brees shirt, trying to convince myself I didn’t care how the Browns were doing; not flipping channels, not looking at my phone, nada. They were dead to me and I was finally moving on from this abusive relationship. “I’m rolling with Super Bowl champions now, Cleveland who?!” I chuckled. But like with all bad breakups, you can’t help but wonder how miserable your jerk of an ex is doing. I needed to have that I knew I was too good for you, scumbag type of feeling in my mind and heart. Maybe just a little peek to confirm I was right? I was under a strict, NFL ticket supervision after my meltdown but I grabbed my iPad and snuck outside of watchful eyes to see what was going on. Needless to say, I was shocked. Backup QB #3 Hoyer, born and raised in Cleveland Ohio, was waking up an offense that had been in a vegetative state for years. He looked poised, confident and leading the team to an unknown territory for the Browns, the End Zone. Sure he had 5 interceptions and all but hell! I haven’t seen anyone get this team down the field with strategic, offensive drives like that for a very long time.
I sat in silence, completely furious with myself. I cursed the front office for trading Trent after two games, accusing them of giving up but how was I any different from those no talent ass clowns? Hello pot, meet kettle! After 39 years of a torturous relationship, I abandoned my true love over a trade involving my favorite player that I didn’t agree with; with every touchdown or field goal, they were showing that life could go on after Trent. No one was rolling over and playing dead as I suspected. I looked down at my Brees shirt and thought about his career for a minute, specifically how San Diego gave up on him for Philip f’ing Rivers (seriously, who does that). After his shoulder injury and subsequent surgery, he was deemed too much of a risk and his potential suitors bailed on him. Drew thought his career was over until Sean Payton and the Saints called.
On any given Sunday, Drew’s second chance turned into NFL history:
- NFL All-time single season passing yard leader (5,476)
- NFL All-time highest completion percentage in a season (71.2%)
- Fastest ever to reach 40,000 yards passing in NFL history
- NFL record for most consecutive games with a passing Touchdown (54)
- New Orleans Saints All-time leader (Career Wins, Passing Touchdowns, Pass Attempts, Pass Completions and Passing Yards)
During my Trent tirade, I think Brees helped me see the light. You can’t turn your back on someone because of the unknown; we’re all deserving of second chances and what’s lying beneath the surface could be amazing. I couldn’t give up on the Browns now, I’ve given them a million chances and really, what difference will a million and one make at this point?! I kept my “Coming to Breesus” moment to myself because I wanted to see what would happen next; maybe this win was just a fluke after the Trent backlash and I made the right decision turning my back, they were in Operation: Tanking for Teddy mode. I needed to be proven wrong.
I went to the game last week and being downtown Cleveland was electrifying. The Tribe post-season chase and the Browns win last week over Minnesota brought a positive vibe back into the city I haven’t felt since the late 90′s. It was awesome! I was with my family, met good friends I rarely get to see and the only thing that could have made the day more perfect was Mr. T riding by on a unicorn. I sat in the Dawg Pound and took it all in: the roaring crowd of drunken misfits, barking like maniacs; high fives flying like they were just invented yesterday and the most hilarious anti-Ginger rants towards Dalton that I bear not repeat. My own voice was hoarse from cheering and yelling during the entire game, albeit most of my screams were sexual innuendos directed at Cameron and Mingo. ME-OW.
All of it made me fall in love with this f’ed up city again. And the Browns won.
After the game, I met up with more friends for celebratory drinks and mayhem. First random encounter of the night, Michael Brantley. He was checking into the Hyatt when we wandered down to the hotel bar for drinks, politely declining our offer to buy him shots. Lame! Next up, a run in with Paul Kruger. A friend was like “Hey Paul, wanted to introduce you to someone” then leaves. WTF? So I’m standing there dumbfounded as my friend just ran off, leaving me speechless with Kruger the Giant in my sparkly Browns shirt. Best way to describe my moment would be a mute, bedazzled deer in a headlight; just awful. I finally stammered something like great game, nice to meet you but probably when I slurred my words out, it sounded more like “Mice eat you?”
The final random moment of the night was the epitome of saving the best for last: meeting Eric Metcalf. One of my favorite Browns players of ALL TIME completely redeemed me after my mishap on Kruger Island. He put up with my peppering of random questions and statements (which I’m not even sure what I said, vaguely remember giggling something about “Metcalf up the Middle” and wanting to put him in my pocket), kindly took a picture with me and upon leaving his table said, “Thank you for being a fan. It means a lot.” At that moment, my devotion to Cleveland came full circle: that was exactly what I needed to hear for all the years of blood, sweat and tears for my loyalty, one player who I worshiped to simply say thank you.
With two clicks of my heels, I opened my eyes and I was home: Believeland. Thank you to Breesus, Metcalf, my family and friends for bringing me back where I belong.
xoxo Mervious It’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month touch my ta-tas Keke Mingo Dingo!