Having burned the first two minutes of the fourth quarter on three incomplete passes and a shanked punt, Browns QB Brady Quinn trudged to the sidelines and stood next to a grinning Derek Anderson.
While they were only losing to Denver by two scores, for everyone who’d been paying attention throughout the afternoon, the game was seemingly out of reach.
With a sneer plastered across his face, his orange ball cap placed backwards upon his head, backup QB Derek Anderson leaned toward the crestfallen Quinn and mumbled, “Man...dude, you suck.”
Scowling, Brady glared at Derek and replied, “Shut up, you suck.”
“No really,” Anderson said. “You suck.”
“Whatever. You suck.”
“Trust me, dude...you suck.”
As the argument before them intensified, over on the metal bench a few feet behind the quarreling gunslingers, backup center Hank Fraley elbowed his successor, Alex Mack and said, “Hey rook, three more bad snaps? Dude, you suck.”
Mack huffed and said, “What? Shut up. You suck.”
“No way man. You suck.”
“Listen you old bum...you suck!”
“Five bad snaps in two games? Dude, you suck.”
“Whatever. You suck.”
Their conversation suddenly halted as they both looked up and watched as Denver running back Correll Buckhalter rambled past them en route to a fifty yard touchdown.
Minutes later, backup cornerback Hank Poteat brushed up against Brandon McDonald and said, “Can’t believe you missed another tackle. Dude, you suck.”
Brandon turned angrily toward his backup and stated, “Like you coulda done better. You suck.”
“You’d be cut from any other team in the league,” Poteat fired back. “Trust me, you suck.”
“Shut up, punk. You suck!”
“No. You suck.”
McDonald clenched a fist. “No, you suck!”
While ambling along the tarmac in front of the first row of bleachers, the Cleveland Browns mascot, a giant bulldog with a head the size of a small hot-air balloon, was approached by Denver’s mascot, a massive two-legged stallion, who pointed at the hound and hollered, “Dude, you guys suck!”
Already in a foul state of mind, the bulldog raised his paw in order to flip the Bronco mascot the bird, when he suddenly realized that his paw only had four fingers and was missing the one he needed.
Three levels up, in the radio booth, color commentator Doug Dieken released a weary sigh as their broadcast went to commercial. He pulled his cell phone from a coat pocket and without looking, dialed a familiar number.
“Bernie?” Dieken asked into the mouth piece.
“You called me, dumbass...who you think it be, Tim Couch?”
Ignoring the comment, Dieken asked, “Are you watching this mess?”
“Thaaaay frunking sluck!”
“You said sluck.”
“Sober up, Bernie.”
“Shaadup, you ass–“
Dieken hit the end button on his phone, dropped it back into his pocket, and began watching the glass-encased luxury box next to theirs. Browns owner Randy Lerner was in the process of jabbing an accusatory finger into the crimson face of General Manager George Kokinis, and even from where he sat, Doug could clearly make out the short comment spat into George’s face from the distraught, majority owner.
Doug Dieken turned back to the field as the game continued, and his obnoxious radio partner, Jim Donovan asked him where the team should go from here.
After a moment of silence, the former Browns lineman shrugged his shoulders and said, “I don’t know. We suck.”
Blushing, Jim leaned toward Dieken and whispered, “You can’t say that on the air, dumbass!”
Doug turned to Jim angrily, grabbed his partner in a choke hold and said, “Who the hell cares? No one’s listening any more anyway! And you suck too!”