This is the time of year where people tend to get sick. I know. I get sick at this very time, every year, without fail. I’m sick of this, what we put up with as fans and observers of Cleveland, but specifically for what’s behind us and ahead for the Browns, the un-deserving recipients of our adoration. It’s not that I want to spite any individual here; we can’t pin all of this on any one thing, but everything that is Cleveland Browns falls well short of “cutting it”.
Whether it’s worse to be numb to it, used to it, and unbothered by it, or to be as frustrated as you always get when a season goes “thud”, it’s sickening. Most of us aren’t actually part of it, but we wear it like we’re all on the 53-man, even if we’re wearing it on the couch. We personalize it, and wonder what we’ve done to deserve this mental anguish for three hours on Sunday as it happens live, then again every hour of our lives that we spend thinking about it.