Here is Week 1 of the Browns Diary. So before we get too deep into Sunday’s horror show, I probably should reintroduce myself: I write a weekly Browns’ Diary. I’ve been writing it for a few years now. It has taken years off of my life. I started the diary in some sort of mid-life crisis fear of losing my younger self. I grew up in South Euclid, Ohio, and I spent my entire childhood living and dying and dying some more and, yeah, mostly just dying with the Cleveland Browns. I cried after Red Right 88. I cried after The Drive. I cried after The Fumble. I was at Cleveland Municipal Stadium the afternoon the Browns played their last home game. I wandered the littered field afterward.
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