A Masochist's Love Affair With the Cleveland Browns

By MICHAEL HEINBACH

I grew up in a Connecticut suburb of New York City and have lived in Missoula, Mont., for the last 15 years.

So why would a relatively sane, 35-year-old man with that background devote a large chunk of his life to an undying, passionate love for the Cleveland Browns?

To me, the Browns are like a certain ex-girlfriend of mine, who for the purpose of this story we'll call Amanda.

When Amanda and I first met (does a successful relationship ever begin in a bar?), it was fireworks and I was floored.

She was stunningly gorgeous, smart, witty, funny... Did I mention Amanda was stunningly gorgeous?

Within weeks, I was pretty sure I was in love. It's not like I'd picked out the names of the children we were going to have (I was still wrestling with the girl's name), but I was in. All the way in.

But my friends saw what I was blissfully ignoring. Amanda was no good for me. They told me our relationship was one-sided, with me doing all the giving and her all the taking. Yet I was blinded by the light.

How is that relationship like my affair with the Cleveland Browns? Not red right 88, the drive, the fumble, the pre-genius Bill Belichick's releasing of Bernie Kosar, the relocation to Baltimore, the drafting of Tim Couch or a miserable last 10 seasons have been enough for me to break it off with the Cleveland Browns.

Unfortunately, it seems they don't have the ability to dump me, like Amanda did.

I can't shake my love for the Cleveland Browns, which stemmed from my father who was originally a Cleveland native. My first real memory of the Browns is from September 1981, when my family visited my grandmother and uncle in Cleveland.

Uncle Stu took us to the season opener on Monday Night Football against the San Diego Chargers at Municipal Stadium for my first NFL game.

The Browns were full of hope, coming off quarterback Brian Sipe's MVP season and the Kardiac Kids' heartbreaking first-round playoff loss to the eventual Super Bowl champion Oakland Raiders.

A summary of my first Browns game: Chargers 44, Browns 14 as Dan Fouts and Bolts racked up 535 yards of total offense and foreshadowed a disappointing 5-11 season for the Browns.

Welcome to the club, kid. I was hooked.

Somehow, those not-so stunningly gorgeous orange helmets couldn't scare me away. When the Browns received Kosar in the 1985 supplemental draft it was the first time I'd heard an athlete say he wanted to play in Cleveland. Has anyone said it since? 

The Browns even turned into a very good team that, minus a horse-faced quarterback from Denver and a Cleveland running back who picked the absolute worst time to contract the dropsies, would have played in its first two Super Bowls.

The pain ensued through the early 1990s before Browns owner Art Modell, unsatisfied with old Municipal Stadium, broke the collective heart of Northeast Ohio and moved the club to Baltimore after the 1995 season.

When the Browns were reborn in 1999, it was if Amanda had taken me back and I was all for it. Things will be different this time, I just know it.

What a way to start! A 43-0 pummelling at home before another national television audience dished out by the hated Pittsburgh Steelers. Couch, the No. 1 overall pick in the draft, threw an interception on his first NFL pass attempt. She's ba-ack.

Through 10 seasons, I've sat at my favorite local sports bar and watched the Browns  do nothing but disappoint. A recent influx of native Clevelanders to Missoula has reaffirmed the theory that misery loves company.

Still, there we are, 11 a.m. every Sunday, barking with optimism at the opening kickoff and crying in our suds before halftime.

There's nothing the Cleveland Browns can do to keep me away. Believe me, they've tried everything and I'll still be running to the bar for this year's opener like a lemming to a cliff.

I wonder what Amanda's up to these days?