I loathe Roger Goodell, and his until recently tax-exempt league, he is the commissioner of. He is a smart f*cker, though. His ingenious exaggeration of the “Deflategate” saga involving Tom Brady’s suspension dissuaded the media pursuing further discussion of the domestic violence nightmare. For all we know Kraft and Goodell could have had the whole thing planned, the stogies and Woodford Reserve waiting in the league’s office.
I could rant for days about Goodell and his satanic ways, but therein lays my point. I love my Cleveland Browns, and I will not stop doing so. Hell, Adolf Hitler could be commissioner and I would still tune in every Sunday. There’s something about Sundays during the fall if you’re a football fan. Sundays and football have become synonymous with each other, throughout the years becoming some unacknowledged weekly holiday.
There are many different ways to view a football game, all possessing different types of enjoyment and excitement. It could be a slothful, lethargic fall day and throwing some sweatpants on and parking on the couch by your lonesome to watch seems like the way to go. Heading to a buddy’s house or local watering hole, and using the day’s full slate of game action as an excuse to have a few too many brews with good friends is another way to go. A little fantasy football tension and the rush of sports gambling both add fuel to the fire.
There are also ways of keeping tabs on the day’s action, in undesirable situations. Say you’re one of those poor souls required to work on Sundays (most likely in retail) you’re covered. The NFL’s smart phone app allows you to follow games live, and even watch action on your phone (it ain’t free). There’s an app to follow your fantasy football matchup too, right? That is, simply, a rhetorical and idiotic question.
Then there is actually attending an NFL game. FirstEnergy Stadium, the home of my Cleveland Browns, is my Mecca. I consistently find myself in an eerily similar place when mid-November rolls around. The Browns are 2-8 and “The Factory of Sadness” has been built. I’ll bitch all Sunday, or all damn week. With that being said, the old adage “any given Sunday” rings in my brain, turning me into an unrealistic schizophrenic optimist. We could win this week. I feel it. I know I will feel, and think this way every time I walk down W. 3rd Street and begin to see Lake Erie in the distance.
So, what am I getting at? The NFL is a goddamn empire. It is too big too fail, no public relations disaster, player safety concerns, or controversy is large enough to take out Goliath. I despise everything about Goodell and his God complex, his refusal to devolve any power he wields. Yet, it means nothing. I will purchase Browns apparel; attend games and fuel the growing power that is the NFL. There’s something about Sundays I love, and if Goodell can’t ruin it, no one can.
To quote a cinematic classic, Tommy Boy, “What the American public doesn’t know is what makes them the American public.” Well, in this case the American football fan is aware of Goodell’s missteps. We’re just addicted to Sundays.
Sports Chat Co-Founder