If you’ve been paying attention, you know Godless Mom is a Cleveland Browns fan.
But wait a fucking second, you grew up in the great white north, and never, ever set foot in Cleveland, so how the fuck did that happen, Godless Mom? Allow Mommy to reveal unto you the gridironish truth, my turfy tale of emotional torture.
It was the 2007 draft. Up until this point in my life, I had loathed all pro sports because they were so time consuming and I could think of a million better ways to spend 3 hours than watching anything on TV. However, Godless Mom had a very important friend for many years, who had found himself locked up in Ohio for a 9 year stint. During this time, with little else to do, he rediscovered his love for football and my phone calls with him largely consisted of me listening to him plead passionately to just give it a shot. He started to tell me the story of Brady Quinn, and how he was a top draft choice and an Ohio native and a lifelong Browns fan and that all of Cleveland was just holding its breath in hopes they could nab him. And since Godless Mom prefers to keep company with the highly intelligent, said locked up friend put his passion in words that couldn’t be resisted.
I had to watch the draft.
I still love you, Browns.
When the day rolled around, I sat alone and watched. The Raiders had the first pick and in spite of some people being sure they would take Quinn, they picked JaMarcus Russell. The Lions were next and took a wide receiver, and then it was the Browns pick. In spite of literally every fucking person who ever lived being sure they would pick Quinn, they did not. They ended up picking Joe Thomas. The first round kept going and no one was picking Quinn. They kept zooming in on his face, which was falling with each new pick. It got to the point where Quinn was the last guy left in the draft room, and the Commissioner felt so bad for him, he invited Quinn and his family into his private suite.
The Browns finally made their move when it came close to Dallas’ pick. When the Cowboys started fielding offers for pick #22, Cleveland jumped on it, traded up and immediately grabbed Quinn. It was almost as fucking exciting as a close, action-packed playoff game. The Dawg Pound erupted with joy.
And with that, I was a fan. It didn’t take long to realize what heartbreak this would bring into my life… or how many people actually believe that god is in this game.
I was lucky enough today, to come across this gem when I was surfing Browns-related Youtubery:
I’m sorry, but this video just left me with too many questions not to share.
My very first issue with this video, is that someone has paid money for a production which seeks out a Cleveland Browns QB for an interview. Yes, I am a fan, but even I wouldn’t drop a cent to that end. Come on.
Chris Schneider explains it’s because there’s something speshul about Colt McCoy. Cut to: McCoy admitting his ignorance as to whether or not god cares about NFL wins or losses.
Hold the phone there, grand slam, this is even a question? You want me to believe there’s a god who created 93 billion light years worth of shazz and there is a question about whether or not he saves his sundays for the pigskin?
And he watches the Browns?
Have you seen a Browns game?
Killer Colt spills more when he says he “plays to glorify god”; he is “playing for an audience of one”. I see now, why Schneider says he’s speshul. I think touched or off-balance would be a better description, but speshul certainly works.
So, off they go to Daddy McCoy who admits to praying to god during the Rose Bowl and thanking him for all he has given his son. Indeed, what a loving and glorious god he is, who, while 16 million people starve to death, sends billion dollar killing birds over a stadium full of mouth-breathers gaping at fireworks all so that your half-wit son can one day play for… yes, that’s right… The Cleveland Browns.
Nevermind that if god gave a hail mary about your son he’d be a good QB. Forget the fact that if you were really basking in the glow of god’s glory, it would appear more like Tom Brady playing for the Patriots. Completely disregard that some of the most notable NFL players are dog torturers, rapists and killers.
Nope. God not only has a heavy presence in football, he’s also got his eye on the real McCoy, hell-bent on Colt having the most mediocre, forgettable career in NFL history.
God does indeed work in mysterious ways.
Happy Draft Day, Heathens. Who’s your favourite team? Any Browns backers out there?
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