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not happening.

I look good in black. But I’m a lot more comfortable in brown and orange.

I had a Moment of Weakness on Friday, and it led to ask a question that had never hit me in the 16 years I’ve lived in western Pennsylvania. I also asked you guys for advice about how to handle this question about my pro football identity, and most of you came through with honest, thoughtful responses.

Before I get to those, though, I should tell you about my test on Saturday. After I finished up a work assignment in the morning, Mrs. Crappy and I headed to the Strip, to get some lunch and find some Aloha kitsch for our upcoming Groundhog weekend. To further set the scene:

  • My lifelong commitment to Cleveland Browns football is apparently wavering.
  • I live in Pittsburgh — not just the area, mind you, but I own a house in the freaking City of Pittsburgh — and it would be awfully easy, convenient and fun to jump on the Stillers’ bandwagon.
  • I’m in the Strip on the day before the AFC championship game. There is cheap Stillers gear everywhere — everywhere — and if I were to ever make the leap, I could have outfitted myself right then, head to toe, for less than 40 bucks.

And you know what happened?

Nothing.

I helped Mrs. Crappy look for a black and gold scarf. We stopped at many of the tables set up along Penn to check out the new stuff. Although I had plenty of opportunities, I wasn’t tempted to buy a single fucking thing.

– – – –

The comments I got on Friday’s post — here and on Facebook — were somewhat predictable, but also helpful. Most of the Stiller fans said they were ready to welcome me to the fold. The people who have a more thorough idea of my football past said I should know better than to even consider changing my mind.

But the one comment that resonated the most came from Kim, a lifelong Red Sox fan who A) knows a little bit about suffering for your team and B) knows how good the payoff is when it comes. Her point? Jumping on that black-and-gold bandwagon would be fun; it would also inevitably become hollow, because that’s not where my heart is.

– – – –

I also found this. That’s the front and back of my old Pittsburgh Browns Backers T-shirt. Between regular Sunday shifts for several years and our travel to Columbus for those other football games, I haven’t been able to watch a game with the club for years; the two seasons I was able to hang out with those folks were among the most fun I’ve had as a pro football fan (and yes, those were after the team returned to the league). The team was probably even worse back then, but being with like-minded people helped a bunch; it also made those rare wins even better.

That is who I am. I may still be pissed about the current state of the team, but it is still my team. And it always will be.

On Friday I asked you guys if I was loyal or stupid.

The answer? Yes.

And if you don’t like it, you can kiss my brown-and-orange ass.

20. turkey joe.

A bunch of my Stiller-fan friends have been griping non-stop since yesterday afternoon, when Stillers linebacker James Harrison was fined $75,000 for what looked to me to be a cheap hit on the Browns’┬áMohamed Massaquoi Sunday afternoon.

(For the record, I thought the hit on Joshua Cribbs, who was also knocked out of the game by Harrison, was clean.)

“It’s part of the game,” they say. “Maybe they should be playing flag football instead.”

Hey, I get it. And I wonder what my Stiller-fan friends think about this one:

Most of you guys aren’t old enough to remember it. But I am. And it makes me smile every time.

12. forty four.

If you're wondering, it's totally not a coincidence that I picked a picture of him racking up yards against the Steelers.

My first football idol was Leroy Kelly.

Kelly played for the Browns from 1964 through 1973, starting what was a Hall of Fame career as a backup to Jim Brown and finishing with an NFL championship and more than 7,000 rushing yards.

I remember watching those Browns teams on a black-and-white television — the one with the chipped plastic corner around the upper part of the frame — in the family room of my first childhood home. I also remember having one of those Sport Illustrated posters of Kelly hanging in my bedroom.

I suppose you have to be of a certain age to remember Leroy Kelly and the other players of that era. And, I suppose, I am of that age.

Take a look at Kelly’s jersey number. And then wish me a happy birthday.

easy decision.

I have no advice as to what the Stillers should do with their douchebag quarterback. I’m not a Stillers fan; it’s not my place.

But if this were to ever happen? I’d never be a Browns fan again.