Posted on 10/31/2002 6:35:50 AM PST by smith288
Jon Saraceno USA TODAY
On Halloween eve, a missive from the spirit of the late NFL genius, Paul Brown, to the curator of that orange-and-black football mausoleum in Cincinnati:
Dear son:
I've hesitated contacting you for some time, but I can no longer bear my private pain. Please do not consider this to be a violation of the Carl Pickens loyalty clause, which forbids criticism of our Bengals.
I do have a question, however:
FOR HEAVEN'S SAKE, WHAT IN THE NAME OF BOOBIE CLARK IS GOING ON DOWN THERE?
I pick up the paper this morning to find that an expansion team is favored to beat us? All of Vegas is howling at us. We're 'dogs all right. The Texans have been in the league for all of 28 quarters! They're laughing so hard at us down in Houston that they can't keep their 10-gallon hats on straight. Worse yet, your coach, Broadway Dick LeBeau, suddenly thinks he's Joe Namath. He guaranteed we'll beat the Texans. In my day, we called that bulletin-board material.
Really, son, this is embarrassing. You call that a defense? I've seen poodles with more bite. And that Corey Dillon, he's a real trip -- particularly near the goal line. I thought the Shula years were pathetic. The thought of becoming the first NFL team to finish 0-16 makes me want to scream, ''Where is Sam Wyche when you need him?''
Sorry, didn't mean to lose my temper. . . .
But, you know, I put my heart and soul into our family operation. It's a good thing there's revenue sharing and all those stadium-funding, tax-paying, Bengal-lovin' suckers in Hamilton County. Still, I'm getting a little tired of listening to Jim Rome talk -- what do they call it these days -- ''smack''? And did you hear what Cris Carter said? He said the University of Miami could beat us!
Humiliating.
You know, I've always thought that statistics were for losers. But if the helmet fits. . . . We're 0-7. We've won 53 of 183 games since my departure. I'll do the math for you, Mike: That's a .290 winning percentage. In other words, since 1991, we've been getting drummed more than 70% of the time. During those dozen years, we've used 12 starting quarterbacks. We blew a ton of dough on a couple of losers named Klingler and Smith. (Now we're stuck with Mike Holmgren's reject QB.) Meanwhile, we go through coaches the way Justin Timberlake goes through teenage girls. Sign free agents? Why, son, you've turned Cincinnati into the Alcatraz of the NFL.
We shouldn't be in this position, not with our head start. Our '68 expansion Bengals needed only three seasons to make the playoffs. Long before that, I was responsible for transforming coaching into a science with advanced scouting and player-evaluation techniques. I'm the guy who invented the face mask. I was a coach, a general manager and an owner. I WAS A WINNER, MIKE. I'm not some smart-alecky sportswriter or talk show host -- I'm enshrined in Canton, kid.
So, listen to me. And listen to me good. You know how fond my memories are of Massillon High and Ohio State, but I'll be darned if the Bengals are going to end up as a Buckeye State afterthought. It's bad enough that Modell took my Browns out of Cleveland. Our loyal fans (well, the smart ones) are very upset. They've finally caught on to your cheapskate, dinosaur ways when it comes to managing the Bengals like Nepotism U. The NFL is no longer a mom-and-pop organization where you can skimp and win. You do care about winning, Mike, don't you?
Look, Boomer can only protect the family so long on national TV. I think Bradshaw's finally on to us, too. Me? I'm more frosted than a fall pumpkin. We all deserve better, particularly after you and Commissioner Paul Tagliabue lobbied hard for that publicly financed $450 million stadium. You know, the one with my name on it?
Now I hear that county commissioners want a legal opinion on whether our team has violated its lease agreement by being so miserable. There are all these ''Down With Mike Brown'' petitions flying around. It's getting bad, son. You're devaluing the franchise. For all I know, Axl Rose will sue the family to prevent Welcome to the Jungle from being played over the loudspeakers.
Please, we must do something -- now. Get some help. Stop playing general manager, son. Take out the checkbook and sign a real one. Call Ron Wolf. Contact Bill Parcells. For cripes sake, DO SOMETHING. You've tricked our fans long enough. Give them a treat and step aside.
You know, for ol' Dad's sake.
Disclaimer: Opinions posted on Free Republic are those of the individual posters and do not necessarily represent the opinion of Free Republic or its management. All materials posted herein are protected by copyright law and the exemption for fair use of copyrighted works.