Why do all the trees lean toward Cleveland?

When my wife and I decided to take the kids to Ohio this month to see her parents, I figured I might as well see where the Steelers would be and maybe attend my first game ever (I know, hard to believe). Since we'd be heading down to the 'burgh (that'd be Pittsburgh for all y'all who don't know) for our first weekend, I was hoping they'd be playing at home. Unfortunately they were playing away on this Sunday. Fortunately, that away game was in Cleveland, a short 30 minute drive from my in-laws.

What luck! What could be better that watching the Steelers play the loathesome Browns in Cleveland, on Sunday Night Football? (Well, obviously, watching the same matchup in Pittsburgh on Monday Night Football, but I'll take it.)

After days of searching the internet ticket brokers for just the right seats at the right price, I settled on a pair (for my father-in-law and me) on the 50 yard line, 9 rows behind the Steelers bench. I was stoked! I packed my Steelers t-shirt (my only team garb outside of my Terrible Towel...I'm a bit stingy when it comes to buying clothes) and off we went.

On the Friday night before the game, big Hurricane Ike made landfall at Galviston, TX. On Saturday before the game, I checked the track of the now broken hurricane and saw that the center would be smack dab over Cleveland at 9pm on Sunday night. This was great! Football, beer, and natural disaster all rolled into one! This was getting better every day.

On game day Sunday, the storm started to hit. The winds started picking up around 1pm and eventually maxed out with gusts of about 40 MPH, though the rains would come until that night at the game. The trees in my in-laws huge backyard were bending over but holding, thanks to the plentiful rainfall several days before.

6pm: Time to leave. This would put us at Browns Stadium about 45 min to an hour before the 8:15 kickoff, plenty of time to take in the sights and sounds. We hit the East 9th Street traffic at about 6:30 and spent the next 1/2 hour going 2 miles to a parking garage. Quick 15 minute walk put us at the door of Browns Stadium where scalpers gathered.

(If ever there was a model of a broken market, it is the ticket scalpers standing right next to a guy wearing a sign reading "I NEED TICKETS." Still can't figure that one out.)

At the gate was a guy handing out Cleveland's pathetic answer to the Terrible Towel: a little Browns flag attached to a stick by a single grommet. I tried to refuse the refuse, but he insisted, so I grudgingly took one, thinking I could use it for toilet paper or fire (or both) if the need ever arose. I handed it off to Gary quickly. By the time we got through the pat down (I think I got extra love because I was wearing a Steelers shirt) and to our seats, it was 7:20.

One hour to game time and what to do? Warm ups were pretty dull, though it was cool to see the players so close up. There was Jeff Reed practicing kicks, Sepulveda practicing punts, Big Ben and Byron Leftwich warming up their throwing arms. We decided to head up to the upper seats to see what the view was like.

Like most stadiums, Cleveland Browns Stadium has a series of switchback ramps for getting up to the upper seats. Of course there were throngs of people heading up. Occasionally one would notice my Steelers shirt and bark in my face "Woof! Woof!" At times I'd try to pause and decipher this strange Clevelandese language, assuming these were the sounds they had been taught to make in school. I eventually gave up, concluding that it was basically unintelligible.

(At some point, my father-in-law, Gary, realized why all these people were singling me out to vent their enthusiasm. Up until then, he didn't realize I had worn my Steelers shirt. Once he did, though, he stayed a good 5 feet behind me the rest of the evening. In telling his friends about the game, he says he still hasn't decided if I was stupid or brave.)

About halfway up the ramp to the top, we both realized that we'd have to go down, against the flow of maddened Brownies. I was not looking forward to this. At the top, we stepped out towards the upper-level seats and were greeted by a huge gust of Ike's wind from the back that I was sure would strip me of my clothing and toss me right out onto the field where I'd be promptly arrested for streaking (now that would have been a story for the grandkids!). We quickly stepped to the side, in front of a wall that would shield us from the wind.

We stood up there for about 15 minutes, taking in the whole energy of the stadium, until it was about 20 minutes until game time. Part of me didn't want to go back down, knowing the abuse I was in for. But I stood tall, put on my Dirty Harry "Go ahead, make my day" look and started the descent.

As I said, Gary had wised up by now and would not walk beside me any more; he stayed a good 5-10 feet behind me the whole way down. I'd slow down for him to catch up, but he'd slow down too, refusing to be associated with this Steelers nutcase who had the nerve to come to the Dawg Pound in a Steelers shirt.

The Cleveland fans were surprisingly tame on the way down, compared with what I had been expecting. I was bracing to be spit on, shoved, or have beer "accidentally" spilled on me. Instead, all I got was a few people in my face screaming "F--- you!", a few chants of "Ass-hole!", and a whole lot of barking. There were other Steelers fans, of course, who mostly had jerseys (meaning that they were much more willing to spend money on team apparel). Many of them would exchange high-fives with me and join in chants of "Here we go!" Many of them, I could tell, were worn down by the taunting and seemed resolved to just look straight ahead and get to their seats as fast as possible. From those who were in the spirit, though, it was nice to have the intermittent moments of comraderie.
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By the time we made it back to our seats, it was a whole lot more crowded. We waited the 15 minutes until game time. There was a tribute to Ernie Davis, the first black football player to win the Heisman, playing for Syracuse. The legendary Jim Brown was there to dedicate the placard for Davis. Also there for the tribute and the coin toss was Dennis Quaid, who plays Davis' coach in the upcoming movie about Davis' breakthrough contributions to football. Even though he was just a blur from 100 yards away, I can now say I saw Dennis Quaid.

The Browns won the toss and the Steelers kicked off the game. The game was what it was, and I won't offer a play-by-play. Needless to say the Steelers won, 10-6, sending the Browns to an 0-and-2 start to their season, and the Steelers to 2-and-0. It was neat being right there and being able to look down at the sidelines and see Mike Tomlin standing always wise and resolute, a stark contrast to the energized, animated, always-pacing Bill Cowher. It was neat the see Big Ben debriefing with Leftwich or his receivers after an offensive flameout. To see Troy Palomalu's hair constantly getting in his way. To see the unflappable smile on Hines Ward's face, up close.

There was some guy two rows ahead of us and a few seats to the right who chanted "Washington...You suck Washington!" whenever the offense was on the sideline, until it made him hoarse. The funny thing was, I don't think there was any way, with the din of the crowd and the distance between them, that Nate Washington could have heard him.

It was easier to walk out of the stadium at the end of the game...I had an easy comeback for the hecklers who persisted in their teases and taunts: "Check the scoreboard, pal!" This was the 10th straight win by the Steelers over the Brownies. With every win, it's easier to understand why all the trees lean toward Cleveland...Cleveland sucks. Just check the scoreboard.