Chief Wahoo’s funeral procession should end at Cleveland Browns Stadium, oh wait, excuse me, FirstEnergy Stadium, Home of the Cleveland Browns. The funeral procession can transition to a pyre when good ol’ Mayor for Life Frank Jackson lights the stadium afire with an AGM-114 Hellfire missile fired from the USS Cod that not only sends Wahoo to hell, but eradicates the city of Cleveland from its other albatross, the Cleveland Browns. Sure, one missile won’t send the horrible past packing easily, so the entire stadium will be pack with high explosives to ensure our Canadian neighbors think Russia has finally bombed the sovereign U.S.
Sure, some Cleveland traditionalists forever mired in the past will object to the idea, and will ask, “Where will we tailgate now?”, but the rest of the city will recognize that the citizens is no longer going to tailgate for losers and take its first steps into the future since the post-World War II era of industrial dominance. “See you this Sunday, my ass” will become the city greeting as a happier unemployed workforce greets the day. “We might not have jobs, but we got the monkey off our backs!” will be the official tattoo of Cuyahoga County. The Truckstop Carpet Bagger can take his lousy football team with ugly uniforms to London, and the NFL can award Cleveland a new expansion team because life in Cleveland without the NFL is just crazy.
This time, Cleveland won’t have unrealistic expectations based on the first preseason win upon the team’s return and the signing of some broken Ohio State player. More importantly, the new stadium won’t be another near the shore of Lake Erie because whoever thought playing football next to a frozen Great Lake was a good idea? Mayor for Life Frank will extort the Canadians to pay for the new stadium through reparations for when the visiting Blue Jays’ fans shit the bed just like their hero, Jose Bautista.
Best of all, the team will play in the NFC North so the toothless Steelers’ fans won’t migrate to city once a year. Again, Cleveland traditionalists might object, but the Steelers/Browns rivalry died when Art Model moved the team to Baltimore. The past is dead; time to move on. Leave the grieving widows by the food trucks; they will eventually find their way home. A new team shall be borne because no phoenix can rise from the ashes of the Browns. Model did the city a favor when he took his moribund band of underperformers out of here; the team had been terminally ill since he sent Paul Brown packing. 1999 Cleveland was not ready for a clean break, but after seventeen years of complete ineptitude, the 2016 Cleveland is.