Day 6

Nothing like a sunny fall Sunday afternoon on the shores of Lake Erie. I miss days like today. Growing up, Sunday Browns Football was my religion - not Judaism. My father and mother both grew up on Browns football, going to the games at Old Cleveland Stadium with their fathers. In a way, The Browns home games brought my parents together. My dad's father was a season ticket holder in 1946, he had 2 in section 37. Over the years, the family had grown and so did the popularity of the NFL. 2 tickets became 4, 4 became 8, 8 became 14. My mother's father had his two tickets in row 1 of section 37. My grandfathers new each other and my dad was checking my mom out at games. The rest as they say is history.

By the time I was in the picture, we had 14 tickets; my uncle had 4 on the aisle in row 3, my dad had 4 on the in row 4, and my other uncle had 4 in row 5, while my grandfather had 2 right across the way in row 4 of the next section. So we were all together. Our routine was the same every game. Uncle Kenny would pick everyone up at our house and pile into his Suburban. Dad was always the driver downtown. Usually 10 people in the car - a mix of parents, cousins, aunts, uncles, and friends. We would leave promptly at 11:30am for a 1:00pm kickoff. Everyone had their job. My mom was in charge of bringing the deli sandwiches from Davis Bakery - Uncle K always had the CB on Rye with Russian. Dad bought the programs from our same program guy - he always asked for a sandwich. Uncle Kenny bought the pregame hotdogs - A dog with ketchup was referred to as a "wimp dog." In close games, Dad, always the most unselfish guy, would go down to the car before the game ended. He would drive it up to the top of the hill in the parking lot adjascent to the stadium and have a cop sit it in to stay warm while he ran back into the stadium to watch the finish. When the game was over, we all sprinted to the car, our feet numb from the cold, and jumped into the Suburban. Dad would take over there - nobody was a better aggressive driver out of the madness of traffic after Browns games than him. To quote Uncle K, nobody could "Stay Tight" quite like Bobby D.

Since the Browns have returned, I still watch every game and read all the articles, but it isn't the same. I loved going to the games as a family at the old stadium. There was something about that decrepit old relic on the lake; the smells, the disgusting bathrooms, hiking up the hill from the parking lot, walking into the den of fans waiting to get through the turnstiles chanting "Here we go Brownies, here we go, Woof Woof." Now, like everything else in pro sports, its a bland new stadium with too much commercialism. I don't live in Cleveland anymore and everyone in my family goes down to the games separately. 14 seats together had become 8 and 6 on two separate sides of the stadium. Plus, without my dad around, going to the games will never be the same. I went in for the opener this year. I just felt like this was another obstacle my mom and I needed to overcome together. This was the first Browns home game I had ever been to without him. My mom hadn't been to a game without him for 37 years. When the national anthem was being played, I looked to the sky and held my mom's hand. A rush of emotion came over me and I began to sob. I had Uncle Kenny one one side, my mom on the other. They both hugged me and we all felt the same pain. It was one of those life moments that I will never forget.

Song of the day: "My Philosophy" By Boogie Down Productions. An all time classic old school hip hop track. "Who gets weaker, the king or the teacher? Its not about a salary, its all about reality."