It Is What It Is: A Steelers fan at a bus stop unwittingly sums up everything

Spared the misfortune and misspent time and money of actually attending Sunday’s Browns game, I watched it at a friend’s apartment downtown. It wasn’t a huge party, nor did it have to be. It was a pleasant gathering of friends new and old, much of it spent on a rooftop, which was only enhanced by the day’s sunshine sucker-punching any forecast rain. With a partially obstructed view of FirstEnergy Stadium and a less obstructed one of the city at large, we smiled seeing the brown and orange crowds gathering hither and yon, gradually making their way toward the ballgame. Folks came over to the apartment, cans were cracked, bottles were popped, and meat met grill, with the spirit of a good Midwestern football Sunday permeating it all.

It was a lovely gathering — for a while.

The “lovely” part mostly pertains to that happened everything pre-1 p.m — the food, the drink, the conversation. Once the game kicked off, the good times mostly came to a close. If you’re reading this, odds are you saw the game. If you didn’t, you didn’t miss much. The Browns run defense was a colander. Raiders rookie receiver Amari Cooper made Joe Haden look like he was in fact the first-year man. Isaiah Crowell and Duke Johnson combined for a whopping 39 rushing yards, but to be fair to them, that doesn’t include ground covered laterally.

It was really bad. The Browns sort of got it together and made it a ballgame down the stretch, and that in itself felt like a sadistic punishment: We can’t even turn the thing off because they might actually come back. They didn’t, of course. Josh McCown was semi-serviceable once he got about 10 bad throws out of the way. He threw two second-half touchdowns and even engineered something resembling a two-minute drill. McCown led the Browns from the shadow of their own goal post with 2:26 remaining down to the Oakland 29 with 0:49 to go. Alas, the last two offensive plays by the Browns resulted in a sack and a game-deciding interception.

Raiders 27, Browns 20 was the final. The scoreline managed to flatter the home team.

The Browns sort of made it a ballgame down the stretch, and that in itself felt like a sadistic punishment: We can’t even turn the thing off because they might actually come back.

As one may expect, the crowd at our humble watch party became a touch less genial as the day went on. Part of that had to do with the beverage choices, both qualitative and quantitative, but the game is what really changed the tenor of the room. There were yells. There were groans. There were expletives. There were hands thrown up in resignation and what are you doings directed at no one in particular. Had we been wearing a collective mood ring, the color would have moved from the blues toward, well, the browns.¹

I think time will show this shabby affair to be merely one game; remember how the sky was falling after Week 1, setting the bar for a Week 2 drubbing of the Titans? Perhaps the Browns are at their best when the least is expected of them, or perhaps the lowered bar just makes them seem that way. As it stands now, they suck, people are mad, rumors are flying, and we may be on a collision course with another one of those offseasons in which everyone — most notably the coach and GM — gets fired. Another week like this, and it may not take that long.

After the game, I made the long walk home; it felt long, anyway. I was nearly there, just a few blocks away, when I saw the most wretched sight that one can see post-Browns loss. It was a goddamn Steelers jersey. A black one. Troy Polamalu. At a bus stop. In Cleveland.

I wasn’t angry at the man wearing it, just put off: How dare you. Correctly assuming that he was in the same hazy-friendly stupor that comes with waking up too early to drink beer and then sit in front of a television, I caught this interloper’s eye and engaged.

“Damn you, sir,” I said with a shake of the fist while crossing the street, “Damn you.”

He was on my level. Possibly chastened by Ben Roethlisberger’s injury, he didn’t gloat or rub anything in. He understood his role as an outsider and target, a Steeler fan in Cleveland. Leaning against the bus stop shelter, he looked up from his phone. He didn’t want to get in a shouting match or a contentious debate, nor did I. Instead, he shook his head, offered a slight shrug of his shoulders, and chuckled.

“It is what it is,” he replied.

Again, perhaps it was the day’s haze setting in, the weekend version of that 2:30 feeling, but those words felt particularly appropriate. It is what it is. That just about sums it all up, doesn’t it? Not just it as it pertains to the Browns, but for the Steelers and the AFC North at large. It is the Browns trying in vain to find a real quarterback. It is the Browns’ would-be strengths — this year’s being the lines and maybe the defense overall — stubbornly refusing to show themselves on Sundays. It is another season with an uncertain ending for those in charge.

It, meanwhile, is the Steelers reinventing themselves as necessary. They grounded and pounded when it was fashionable, and now, with a squadron of receivers led by the spectacular Antonio Brown, they can air it out with the best of them (Roethlisberger’s injury aside, that is). Do you realize that freaking team hasn’t finished under .500 since 2003? I understand that it can be old hat to juxtapose Pittsburgh’s success against Cleveland’s shortcomings, but the discrepancies are so stark that they’re tough to overlook. There are only so many ways to compare Verne Troyer and Andre the Giant before circling back to height.

It is about more than the Steelers, though. It is most every team in the division being contenders to win it and/or to earn a playoff berth. We know Pittsburgh is always in the conversation. Andy Dalton is still a punchline, but how much can a Browns fan really laugh at a guy who’s been to the playoffs four years running? The Ravens are 0-3 thus far, but would you bet on the Browns finishing above them in the standings?

It is just a bummer, Browns fans. There are so many holes in the dike that I can’t begin to decide which is most in need of a filling. There is surely a way out of this — there must be, right? — but I’m not the one with the map. A new GM? A new scheme? A new quarterback? Sometimes, as soccer commentator Michael Davies said of his beloved Chelsea Football Club in a recent podcast, a team is just crap, and there’s not much more to say. I’m afraid that’s the state of affairs for the Brownies. They’re crap.

Yet, whether it’s blind optimism or a general belief in market corrections, I expect the Browns to be better in Week 4. I can’t predict a win on the road with a straight face, but I think they’ll be better. I think going on the road might be a good thing for them; surely Josh McCown will enjoy not being showered with “JOHN-NY” chants. I think — oh hell, who am I kidding; I’m hoping now — that some element of the defense will look better than bad, and maybe even better than average. I believe there will be some thicker strings of hope upon which to hold.

But that’s all conjecture about what the future holds. For now, it simply is what it is.

1. Per one surely reputable chart found on the internet, a brown mood ring says: “Nervousness is setting this person on edge. There could be an overwhelming sense of restlessness and anticipation. If a person’s mind is whirling with all kinds of nervous thoughts, a mood ring will turn this hue.” [↩]