
CLEVELAND -- The mental welfare of this perpetually beleaguered, nationally pummeled, unemployment-burdened, sports-doomed, pray-if-LeBron-leaves city was fairly stable between 1996 and 1998. Those were the three years when the NFL didn't exist by the lake, when civic outrage over the Browns' devastating departure to Baltimore faded into a hope that something better and more loyal was on the way. Who knew that not having them at all was a far saner fate than resurrecting them for the next decade?
And how many folks would like to light the franchise on fire about now, just as the Cuyahoga River once went up in flames in Cleveland's most infamous moment?
Cincinnati the NFL's halfway house, where lost souls go to find their way. In the past, it has usually ended badly; the Bengals doubled as the league laughingstock, and any efforts to offer players one last shot at redemption often blew up in the organization's face. 

The 
Back in Week 6, when the Jaguars were bumbling through the early part of their schedule,
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INDIANAPOLIS -- He was wearing a dark blue hoodie, stylish with a shirt collar, and my thought right now is that Bill Belichick should go back to the old tattered version. Because on Sunday night, in one of the most inexplicably arrogant brain cramps in the history of football and any other sport known to humankind, the coach who gave us Spygate introduced Stupidgate to the American lexicon.

























