LA doesn’t need an NFL franchise, the Browns already own the town
By Roger Cohen
Whatever frame of mind I’m in, there are two words guaranteed to make me smile – and if you’re reading this, I bet you would agree:
“Go Browns.”
I heard “Go Browns” constantly last week while visiting my in-laws on the beach in Los Angeles, (yes, there’s a Henny Youngman joke lurking in there) reminding me that despite our more-than-a-generation futility, Browns’ fans are everywhere. In my life as an airline guy, I’ve seen people sporting Brown and Orange in Israel, Mexico, the former Soviet Union, and in every big city and small town across America.
While it is a fact that there are more Italians in New York City than in Rome, it seems as if there are more Browns fans in L.A. than in Cleveland proper. As one of the eight Founding Fathers of the Southern California Browns Backers back in 1984, I’m thrilled to file this trip report confirming that the L.A. Provisional Territory of Browns Nation is thriving, undeterred by the Drive, Fumble, Move, 23 different quarterbacks, and even two seasons of Pat Shurmur.
Related: Q&A with the Browns Backers of Scandinavia
Starting my visit with a 6:30 a.m. jog wearing my full training camp gear, I heard the only other person on the Hermosa Pier shout “you from Cleveland?” It was an older gent (probably my age) from Murray Hill in Cleveland’s Little Italy, a Cathedral Latin grad and one of the Baby Boom diaspora who fled Northeast Ohio to find fame, fortune or their inner selves in the Golden State.
(Quick drinking game debate quiz: who’s on the Cleveland to Hollywood Mount Rushmore? Paul Newman and Halle Berry are locks. Drew Carey? Wannabe’s like Tim Conway? Martin Mull?)
Minutes later I ran into a Strongsville native – no Millennial or GenXer but old enough to remember Red Right 88 – who’s testing the beta stages of his own Cleveland sports blog. He turned me on to the nearest Browns’ bar, which was perfect for Thursday night’s game vs. Buffalo.
On Saturday morning, sans Bloody Mary, I enjoyed a real eye-opener breakfast at one of those “only in California sprouts/organic/vegan/gluten-free $18 cage-free egg white frittata” cafes, seated next to a multi-cultural table full of twenty-somethings – Browns fans all. Card-carrying union members at the Factory of Sadness, too young to remember Sam and Sipe, Bernie, Bernie, or even the one good pre-genius Bill Belichick season.
More from Dawg Pound Daily
- 3 Cleveland Browns players who don’t deserve another season in 2023
- How the Browns could maximize Nick Chubb in 2023
- Can Deshaun Watson get to Patrick Mahomes level for Cleveland Browns?
- 3 Cleveland Browns who should see an expanded role in 2023 and 1 who should not
- Is Marcus Davenport on the Browns radar in 2023?
A cloudless 80-degree afternoon at the beach brought out streams of the bronzed, buffed, beautiful people – dozens of them – who interrupted their biking, inline skating and volleyball games to shout “Go Browns,” stopping to ask if we could get to 8-8, could Johnny Manziel make it, can the defense hold up?
Highlight of the visit? Watching the game against Buffalo at Jersey’s Bar & Grill in Redondo Beach with a roomful of Browns’ diehards. They joked that there’s usually a 100 or so who squeeze into the old-time corner bar for a wild time each regular season opener – then the crowd dwindles to about a dozen lost souls by mid-November. Understandable, since 10 a.m. West Coast kickoffs can be awkward (I remember my Sunday morning bar strolls with infant son, Daniel), but night games really are Happy Hour, with Ohio transplant Sandy serving up $2 craft beers and sinful garlic fries.
Against the Bills, the third-down defense looked shaky and Josh McCown played very Tampa-like, but high-fiving those Southern California strangers after Manziel’s 94-yard drive, well, preseason doesn’t get any better than that.