Written by Andrew Clayman

---

It might seem like an exercise in futility to even pose this question, since the best egg in a rotten batch is still disgusting. But with Pat Shurmur now officially the latest to sink into the quicksand of the Cleveland sideline, it seems a fitting time to formally re-visit the entire rogue's gallery of head coaching mis-hires since the Browns' ill-fated "rebirth" in 1999.

From a field of candidates even less inspiring than the ones we've put in Congress, which head coach of your 21st century Cleveland Browns would now earn your vote as the “best”— or at least, the one who got the most out of the paltry arsenal bestowed upon him? Given a choice between Palmer, Davis, Crennel, Mangini, and Shurmur, who—to put it more bluntly—sucked the least?

Bit of a perverse undertaking, ain’t it? They are, after all, five upstanding gentlemen from diverse backgrounds—unwittingly bound together in a fraternity of colossal failure. None of them won more games than they lost, and none managed approval ratings much higher than Watergate era Nixon or post-inferno Nero. But across the span of 14 seasons, logic would dictate that at least one of these whistle-wearing numbskulls made you feel a little less homicidal than the others.

Memory clouded by a fog of lingering angst? No worries. As luck would have it, all five of the expansion Browns’ head coaches are here today to personally and shamelessly pander to you for re-consideration—like a Presidential debate with more khakis.

 We’ll begin, naturally, with the captain of Cleveland’s original, re-animated Browns corpse… your head coach in 1999 and 2000… Chris Palmer. Mr. Palmer, thirty seconds.

CHRIS PALMER (1999-2000, W/L: 5-27): Thank you and good evening. Or morning as the case may be. I probably should start by re-introducing myself. I’m Chris Palmer, the bald guy with the glasses. Remember? I coached the Browns for two years. Weird, huh?

Anyway, Cleveland, I feel like maybe we didn’t get to know each other so well the first time around, so let me tell you a little about myself and why I am—by default—the best Browns coach on this panel right now.

So, let’s see. I’m an East Coast guy—born in New York, graduated from the football powerhouse known as Southern Connecticut State. You probably never knew this, but I was a Receivers Coach for the run-and-shoot Oilers of the early ‘90s and the Offensive Coordinator for the Mark Brunell era Jacksonville Jags before I scuttled into your world in 1999. I was also the head coach at Boston University for two seasons back in the ‘80s, which apparently made me the ideal choice to take on the monumental task of making a contender out of a rag tag crew of castoffs, rookies, and construction workers while the expectations of a whole city rested on my shoulders.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, considering the circumstances, I did a pretty damn respectable job, wouldn’t you say? Carmen Policy pulled my name out of a hat, gave me Travis Prentice and Darrin Chiaverini, and said “try not to go 0-16,” and I didn’t! Sure, my 5-27 record and .156 winning percentage is the worst among non-interim coaches in franchise history. That dirties up a resume a bit, believe you me. But fact is, I’m the coach that shepherded your beloved Brownies back into existence, which ought to at least forgive some of that abysmal football. Plus, I beat the Steelers once, which is actually as many times as anybody else up here. Thank you.

Butch Davis, your rebuttal?

BUTCH DAVIS (2001-2004, W/L: 24-35): Thanks, Andrew. Hello, Cleveland. …You know, I have to admire Chris for his positivity and his convictions, but I think we all know that as an NFL head coach, he sucked donkey balls. Consistently, game to game, year to year… donkey balls. It wasn’t until I came along in 2001 that everyone in Cleveland realized that their new Browns didn’t have to be known as the Clowns, or the Frowns, or the… Wedding Gowns, or whatever. It was me, Butch Davis, who re-introduced the concept of so-so, mediocre football to this town. We committed ourselves to the goal of not being the worst, and sure enough, we didn’t suck as much as Chris Palmer’s team did. Obviously, the big payoff of this effort was 2002, when we snuck our way into the postseason at 9-7 and looked great for one half of one playoff game. By most measures, that was a so-so season, especially considering we lost to our fiercest rival three times in a row in heartbreaking fashion. But matched up against the other 14 seasons of the New Browns, 2002 was basically a single, sustained orgasm for the entire city of Cleveland. And I’m the guy who took you there. Me and Kelly Holcomb. Kelly Holcomb and I took you to orgasm. So.. when it comes to choosing a best coach, I think you'll see fit to pay me back like any grateful, satisfied client should. Woof woof. Pontbriand FTW! Davis out.

Alrighty. Romeo Crennel, the podium is yours.

ROMEO CRENNEL (2005-2008, W/L: 24-40): Hmm, well what can I say to that? I'm Romeo. You all remember me. Good ole Coach Crennel-- the oldest and cuddliest of this sorry lot. ...Now I'm not gonna stand here and wax all poetic like Butch or make excuses like Chris. Hell, I was Chris's D Coordinator in 2000; I know how bad it was. I also know that nobody expected me to ever get another head coaching job after I turned a pretty talented 2007 Browns team into an absolute abomination in 2008. But if we look past the fact that I just got handed my walking papers again this week by the Chiefs, the fact is that I DID get hired again as an NFL Head Coach after leaving Cleveland. Now who else on this panel can or ever will be able to say that shit? No goddamn body, that's who! Now, sure, the Chiefs are arguably an even more backwards, embarrassing franchise than the Browns. But facts are facts. And as for Butch being the only coach to take this team to the playoffs, well, my 2007 team had a better record than that team did-- 10-6, to be precise-- the best record of any Browns team in 20 years. Y'all have short memories, so you may not remember this, but all of us were ready to make Derek Anderson the second coming of Dan Marino there for a minute. Remember that? Shit, what were we all smokin'? Ha, yeah, but those were good times, weren't they? 

Anyway, 2012 was a grizzly, miserable year for your old friend, Coach Crennel, and once again, just about everybody is saying I probably won't coach again. But if there's two things you should know about me by now, it's that, Number One: I always pick myself back up again like a true professional. And Number Two: despite being utterly useless as a head coach, I STILL have better odds of coaching somewhere next year than Eric Mangini. Thanks, I love you all.

ERIC MANGINI (2009-2010, W/L: 10-22): (sarcastic clapping) Terrific, Romeo. Inspiring stuff. Now let's let the ESPN analyst talk, shall we? First and foremost, for all of you people who ran me out on a rail in 2010, how'd that work out for you? Did the Walrus make all your dreams come true when he gave my job to his buddy's cross-eyed nephew? Didn't think so! Face it, Cleveland. You jumped off the Mangenius wagon way too soon! I was right on the cusp, baby! Right on the cusp of a bucket-full of Lombardi trophies. 

Now Romeo can talk all he wants about being proud for destroying the Chiefs organization shortly after trying to destroy the Browns, but if we're talking about coaching competency here, I don't see how it's even a conversation. Unlike everyone else here, I actually came to Cleveland with previous NFL coaching experience and a basic understanding of how to lead men. I wasn't just an overrated coordinator like Chris or a sleazy college coach like Butch. And while Romeo and I both got rings under Lord Bellichick, I also went to war against that hoodie-wearing, videotape-making motherf%$#er long before I got to the shores of Lake Erie. Oh, and I beat him again in Cleveland, too, lest you forget it.

Anyway, when the soccer fan in the scarf hired me to clean up Romeo's mess and restore order back in '09, that's exactly what I did.  We won our last four games in 2009, then carried that momentum right into the next season, when I cut down our penalties, used our limited talent to its best capabilities, and got us our most exciting and satisfying wins of the expansion era. If you didn’t admire the way I dissected and humiliated the Pats and Saints with a 12-year old Colt McCoy as my QB, you need to check your pulse, Son! Hope you're all super pleased my flawless blueprint was handed over to Lenny from Of Mice and Men. Freakin' jerks. I'm on ESPN now!

Mr. Shurmur, rebuttal?

PAT SHURMUR (2011-2012, W/L: 9-23): Hmmm, well. I don't know why it's my responsibility to respond to those comments. I mean, if I choose to insult Eric in return, and my retort is kinda lame, then you will all just say, "Gee, Pat, why didn't you just take the high road and ignore him?" But then, if I do take the high road, and ignore Eric, you'll just all make chicken wing gestures at me and go "bawk bawk, you're such a stupid, mouth-breathing coward, Shurmur!" It's like, I can't win, ya know? I just cannot win. Literally. I don't win much.

Okay, would you just like to state your case for being the best head coach of the Browns expansion era, then?

Well, I mean, I'd like to do that, I guess. But then you'll all just laugh at me. It's like, hey, I had a three game winning streak this year. That's not such a big deal to a normal NFL team, but here in Cleveland, it was like some sort of miraculous event, ya know? And nobody even seemed to care that we beat nothing but other equally horrible teams-- including Romeo's Chiefs. I mean, that proved I was at least better than Romeo, right? But then again, if one of my very few triumphs came against Romeo, it sort of dimishes my worth at the same time, doesn't it? It's confusing. I am just really confused. I mean, shouldn't I be judged on the fact that I coached a bunch of no-name, late-round draft picks and made them somewhat competitive? Just look at our receivers alone. Would anyone question that I turned Little and Gordon into massive upgrades over useless tackle dummies like Brian Robiskie?

TERRY ROBIKSIE: Excuse me! Can I get a word in here or what?

Ah, it would appear that Brian Robiskie's dad and former Browns interim coach Terry Robiskie has joined us in the audience. I must apologize, Mr. Robiskie, but because you only coached 6 games after Butch Davis departed in 2003, you didn’t meet the requirements for this debate.

ROBISKIE: Yeah, I know, I know. But I also feel like that’s exactly why I, Terry Robiskie, am truly the greatest head coach of the expansion Browns era.

How do you figure that exactly? You were only 1-5.

ROBISKIE: Maybe so, but nobody remembers me enough to think ill of me. And that makes me the best of this sad fraternity by default.

[After a brief pause, the audience begins to applaud, and the other coaches shrug their shoulders in familiar defeat. Terry Robiskie, apparently, is the greatest Cleveland Browns head coach of the modern era.]