Tuesday, January 17, 2012

Rooting against arch-rivals? It's the Cleveland way during the NFL playoffs: Bill Livingston

By Bill Livingston, The Plain Dealer

CLEVELAND, Ohio -- Cleveland fans are keeping score. They are also settling scores, although it usually requires the help of an intermediary to do so.

Another team, a surrogate, to carry the fans' hopes, if not their colors, is not the happiest choice for devoted followers of the Cleveland teams to make. But their own teams haven't been up to the job. So recently, Cleveland fans have had the company of some of the strangest bedfellows outside the political arena. This is what happens when it has been 48 years since the Browns won the city's last major championship in 1964.

Anyone who was in Cleveland Municipal Stadium a quarter-century ago, throwing dog bones at John Elway during "The Drive," would have trouble believing how popular was the Denver Broncos' playoff victory over Pittsburgh. Elway, now the team's president, raised his arms in triumph after Tim Tebow's long pass secured victory on the first play of overtime.

Many Browns fans probably mimicked his gesture.

Surely, some newly minted fans, possibly a sizable minority, were motivated by Tebow's story with its religious overtones. But most simply detest the "Stillers" and are tired and envious of the glory reaped two hours down the state turnpikes.

Fans here do what they gotta do. "My enemy's enemy is my friend" is the motto.

Negative cheering, though, is not entirely satisfying. It is sort of like meeting a distant relative, say, a second cousin, once removed. You really don't know these people very well, but they're welcome to share the fruitcake if they return next Christmas. Pulling for Denver if you lived here in the 1980s is several degrees of separation from the city's endemic passion for the Browns.

But, as Art Modell used to say, "Apathy is the worst thing." I believe he said that shortly before promising never to move the Browns.

Certainly, Cleveland fans are not apathetic. In a recent Cleveland.com poll that drew over 5,000 responses, the Steelers were the most hated team in 49 percent of the vote but, in a remarkable testament to the personal dislike many fans feel for LeBron James, the Miami Heat finished second at 41 percent. The University of Michigan and New York Yankees finished up the track.

The poll, however, did not include the Baltimore Ravens. Browns fans wistfully think of the Ravens as the "real" Browns. No bone stuck quite as securely in the civic throat as the Ravens' Super Bowl victory in only the second season of the restored and reject-laden Browns. The Ravens would pull big polling numbers here in any "most hated" poll.

No one else would seriously challenge the Terrible Triad of Steelers, Heat and Ravens. It has been a long time since Bill Belichick was a controversial Browns coach. If he doesn't receive outright absolution from most fans, he certainly benefits from the expediency of surrogacy. His New England Patriots face the Ravens in the AFC championship game on Sunday.

The appeal of surrogate teams involves more than the system of resentments in Cleveland against cities with wiser owners, or more loyal players, or bigger payrolls or simply better luck. Time and again, such teams have broken Cleveland fans' hearts.

Time is, however, our ally. Over the years, the aches dull, the wounds heal, and the scars become less visible. Cheering for Denver is close to amnesty for Elway. Cheering for the Dallas Mavericks is close to amnesia about them.

Three decades ago, the Mavs rose to contention on the backs of the Ted Stepien Cavs, who made trades with them that were so benighted the NBA embargoed them until league approval could be given. Of course, Stepien was the real culprit. The Mavs were merely the beneficiaries.

Years ago, a reporter was waiting to interview Pat Summerall, the CBS sports commentator, after he came down from the broadcast tower at the old World Series of Golf in Akron. Summerall clambered down, and then a fan shouted, "You were lucky on that field goal, Summerall!"

"That was in 1958! People in Cleveland have long memories," Summerall said, referring to a field goal he kicked in the snow, which eventually denied the Browns a berth against Johnny Unitas' Colts in the first-ever sudden-death overtime game.

Surrogacy means resentment has an expiration date. Most Cleveland fans certainly will root for the Giants in the Super Bowl if they play Baltimore.

http://www.cleveland.com/livingston/index.ssf/2012/01/post_41.html

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