I don't even have to complete that statement for you to know how it ends. Living out in Los Angeles, halfway house for all those willing to trade scrapping ice for five lanes of bumper to bumper, I get the grief from opposing fans. Many a time I want to introduce their porcelain veneers to an Ohio handshake...but I temper my anger with hope.
Hope that my team will kick their team's @ss. Brutally pummeling their fragile QB or prima donna receiver with a shot worthy of an Al Gross Fore-arm Shiver award. I wouldn't care if my beloved Browns even scored...not one point, not one yard of offense...the victory would be in knowing that on that day...on that field...the other team was thankful when the game had ended and were in no hurry to meet the Orange and Brown on the field of battle anytime soon.
But, that's not my team. There are no Chip Banks or Eddie "The Assassin" lying in wait to lay some smack on someone. No Matthews, Dixon or Minifield. Every weekend...I see a team with no teeth and fans clinging to a moniker that has lost its bite. The Dawgs...we are a far cry from those days my friend...and by dog year's...we are 161 years of dead and buried.
It was great to be relevant again in 2007...it was great to see high-powered offense lighting up the scoreboard. Although I'm sad we can't even sniff the end-zone now...what bother's me more, what still has not returned, nor been the priority is a solid D. An identity. A starting point. If we don't have the tools on offense then why are we not focusing on Defense? They don't fear our running attack or our aerial assault. They may worry about our special teams but there are no sleepless nights. What they should fear, what should cause them to question their desire...should be slants across the middle...third downs and ten...fourth and inches...moments when we dictate who owns that strip of sod.
Where is that team? How do we find that lost dog?