Relieved. Validated. Thankful.
That’s how I felt when I saw that the Browns were out of the Deshaun Watson sweepstakes. In that moment, I didn’t care about the shameless way teams were throwing themselves at, fawning over, and begging for a quarterback who had sat out the last season amidst 22 active civil suits of sexual assault, harassment, and misconduct. In that moment, I didn’t care about the way it was labeled a “sweepstakes” as if it was simply a fun little quirk of free agency. In that moment, I couldn’t care less about missing out on an elite talent who would be an obvious positional upgrade. I was beyond relieved that it wasn’t going to be my team that would employ a man who is an alleged serial predator. I felt validated in my belief that the Browns were an organization dedicated to a higher standard and moral code. I was genuinely thankful that I wouldn’t have to question my personal team loyalty and was selfishly prepared to let Atlanta or New Orleans deal with him and his baggage, as long as it wasn’t me.
Blindsided. Outraged. Disgusted.
That’s how I felt when I saw that the Browns were not only back in, but the “winner” of the Deshaun Watson sweepstakes. Somehow, he had flip-flopped his way back, accepting a jaw-dropping offer and subsequent contract. $230 million. 5 years. All guaranteed. The name was enough to make me nauseated, but the sheer weight of the numbers made me want to throw up.
But while I saw the name attached and cringed, others celebrated. Deshaun Watson is a proven franchised quarterback- something that Browns fans have craved so desperately for decades. Everything about the football side of things seems to just fit. Reports of the meeting between management and quarterback describe the mutual interest in enthusiastic and gushing terms. Did the desperation to find the crucial missing piece really make them forget everything that I remembered so clearly?
More than anything, I felt betrayed.
I was convinced, maybe foolishly, that this was an organization devoted to supporting women. They employ one of the only female coaches in the league, as well as women in influential roles throughout higher-level positions, and they even have a female owner. I had known that this franchise wanted desperately to win but hadn’t thought it would sacrifice decency to do so.
The team claims that they underwent an extensive investigation before entering into the Watson wagering but I call BS. While the franchise discussed the allegations with Watson and his lawyers, they didn’t venture out to talk to the victims. Personally, if I was going to conduct a thorough or “extensive investigation,” I would talk to them. Something tells me that you’re not going to get the true scope of things by simply discussing with a defense attorney. The claim that they spent “a tremendous amount of time” exhausting every possibility is positively laughable.
At the very least, I would make an effort to display- even if I didn’t think my guy was guilty- that I understood the severity of the accusations and that I support the victims of this widespread, tragic, very real issue that hurts so many across the world.
I’d love to say “I’m not angry, just disappointed” but no. I’m both. I’m incredibly angry and incredibly disappointed. I’m sad. I’m heartbroken. I’m angry. I’m outraged. This isn’t outrage over a dumb draft pick or a laughable losing record- it’s justified outrage over the blatant abandonment of morality.
Countless times I have listened to interviews, press conferences, statements from higher-ups and management preaching the necessity to bring in high-character athletes. The motto of “Smart, Tough, and Accountable” that litters the words of Andrew Berry feels hollow to me now.
How am I supposed to root for a man who I would be scared to be alone with? The common answer, especially amongst Browns fans, seems to be that you’re not rooting for the man- you’re rooting for the team, the city, and the franchise. But I can’t find it within myself to follow that route. In a day and age where players are so much more than their physical contributions, and these men are truly “More than an Athlete,” how am I supposed to just focus on how many touchdowns he throws? I follow these men off the field too, plugging into the content they create to post and listening to the words they choose to speak. How could I, in good conscience, offer my unwavering support to a franchise if they don’t also subscribe to the notion that Watson is more than an athlete?
Nauseous. Confused. Conflicted.
That’s how I feel sifting through the reports, accounts, and legal jargon. I certainly don’t want to fill the role of a judge or a jury- after all, these are still just accusations, all alleged incidents that haven’t been proved or charged to Watson. I’m not naïve enough to believe that false accusations don’t happen- especially towards wealthy and powerful men, and even more especially towards wealthy and powerful Black men- but the stories, and sheer number of them are enough to make you think twice before immediate dismissal. Twenty-two accusations is a lot and the corresponding details are unsettling, alarming, and extremely troubling. If we truly believe in believing women, then we certainly can’t just look past them.
What if one of those victims was your mother, sister, daughter? How easy would it be to dismiss the story without a second thought? To shrug and say it’s just football? Or to laugh at the jokes about massage therapists in Cleveland going into hiding?
Yet, the more I hear about the man that is Deshaun Watson, both on the field and off, outside of these accusations, the more conflicted I become. The allegations aren’t without controversy or conspiracy. The history between Watson and his former team is certainly complicated, the timing of the accusations and his demand of a trade is certainly complicated, and the connections between the accusers’ lawyer and the Houston owner is certainly complicated. What if he truly is the stand-up guy that he was believed to be before Houston? He’s adamantly denied every single charge and stood by his word, refusing to settle, and insisting on “clearing his name.” What if these accusations are falsified and part of a greater money grab or character assassination plot? After all, there’s no real concrete proof to support them- just the words of these women. What if I’m being ridiculous or hysterical to think otherwise? What if I’m throwing away my opportunity to experience the winning that I’ve dreamed about?
But that just doesn’t make sense. Women don’t tend to benefit from naming their influential accusers and the idea that they’re all making up their eerily similar stories of abuse across four states is hard to wrap my head around. And those are only the ones who have sought legal action. Who knows how many others have been affected out there and have chosen to keep quiet and anonymous?
I’m not going to act holier-than-thou or pretend that I haven’t looked past an off the field incident when it comes to players that are particularly productive or talented. I mean, after all, Kareem Hunt is still on the Browns roster. While I personally don’t believe the two situations to be that comparable, and believe that Hunt made a reprehensible decision, shown remorse, and has since not found himself in any trouble- there’s an argument to be made that Hunt not only was accused, but was proved to have fought and hit a woman. Not good stuff there and not something to forget about, and yet I have.
The league is not one based on morals; it’s based on money. That much is obvious. But somehow that’s morphed itself into a popular argument that seems to float my way often throughout this whole mess. If you’re going to care about this, how come you didn’t care about x, y, z player who committed x, y, z alleged crime? I don’t particularly enjoy the accusatory nature of this logic. It seems to suggest that the genuine discomfort I feel is not only misplaced, but completely unwarranted since it hasn’t stopped me before.
The reveal of a stunning level of hypocrisy has hit hard. Ben Roethlisberger played for the Steelers for 18 seasons, beating down on the Browns twice a year every year. Browns fans often undercut his accomplishments with bringing up the fact that he’s an alleged rapist. But now, with Watson coming to Cleveland- allegations aren’t even a problem for these same fans. Now, when it’s your guy on your team, it ceases to matter. When do we genuinely care about women? Do we even at all? The hypocrisy reveals a deeper, more horrific truth: it’s only when we don’t like the player that we acknowledge their darker incidents, when they’re ours we couldn’t care less.
It would be easier to just decide the claims weren’t real or just move past them without a second thought. It would be so much easier to accept them as merely allegations towards a man who is truthfully insistent on his innocence. It would be so so much easier to just focus on the football and dream about the Browns going back to the playoffs or capturing a divisional title. It would be so so so much easier to just ignore it all.
Even more conflicted. Disloyal. Guilty.
That’s how I still feel debating how I’m going to go forward with the upcoming season. I had previously told people that I didn’t know if I could continue being a Browns fan if they had signed Watson. That was a completely genuine sentiment that I had believed in full-heartedly when I was sure it wouldn’t happen. But now, it has happened, and I’m left with a tough decision.
I don’t know what I’m going to do. I truly don’t. At first, I had thought that I just couldn’t possibly stomach watching Browns football if Watson was heading the ship. And then when it became reality, I doubled down on it. I couldn’t tune in every Sunday and cheer on a man who goes against every fiber of my being. But now, the more I become conflicted, the less clear it becomes. How could I go from someone who couldn’t possibly miss a game, who scheduled around Sundays, who ingested every single piece of media available to someone who would just willingly tune out? I’m not someone who misses games. I never miss a Cavs game, and I rarely miss a Guardians game (and there are 162 of those) so how could I just be available and not turn on the Browns? What shatters my heart the most is that it’s not just Watson on the field. I adore Nick Chubb. I love his work ethic, I love his attitude, I love the way he plays- and he’s pretty good, so that helps too. I went to three Heinen’s just to pick up boxes of his cereal. Myles Garrett, Greg Newsome, Joel Bitonio, Denzel Ward. These are guys that I’ve been rooting for and just love watching- they make me happy. Don’t they deserve the very best they can get as a quarterback? Plus, they don’t have any allegations of sexual misconduct- how can I abandon them as if they did? But it’s not like I can just not see who’s throwing to them, handing off to them, or leading them. Any first down, any score, any win would be indelibly associated with the allegations that do exist. How could I enjoy that? Would the nausea I feel thinking about it ever cease to exist? How could it not feel completely hollow?
Yet, I can’t just jump ship with no remorse. I hate bandwagon fans. Something about it just feels so icky to me. You have your teams and they’re yours. You don’t leave them; you don’t just arbitrarily pick a new team just for kicks. I like to think of myself as a loyal fan. In my life, I’ve stayed dedicated to my teams and I’ve been lucky enough to see some pretty good ones, more good years than bad- surprising for the long history of woes and losing tied to Cleveland. I’ve experienced some heartbreak, but also joy- joy that just feels so much better because of the heartbreak. Yet, here I am questioning my loyalty- maybe it isn’t as unflappable as I had previously thought. My loyalty could withstand trading away my favorite player, my loyalty could withstand loss after loss after loss, but apparently, my loyalty can’t withstand this.
Every time I see something relating to the Browns- I get excited and then am immediately flooded with a wave of guilt for that original feeling. Somehow, I feel this overwhelming burden, as if I’ve done something wrong. Why am I forced to carry it? It’s not like I assaulted dozens of women- and yet that awful feeling remains there, ruining the joy that I once held for a team so deeply embedded in my life.
I feel so guilty both ways- not supporting the team I feel so strongly attached to, but even more guilty supporting- or even condoning- the bringing in, employing, and making the face of the franchise, someone who is allegedly a serial abuser.
How many wins would be enough to make up for the sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach? 22?