And Derek Anderson Was The Dragon

Have you ever tried smack? Stabbed that needle in your arm and feel a wave of ecstasy over take you?

I haven't.

But I do know it, I have felt it without ever injecting myself with it. I know what it is to throw yourself into madness, to isolate yourself from reason. I too have set aflame all I owned for a flash of brilliance - a flash that never was quite so bright as the first time.

There is an addiction you have as a Browns fan. You knew it long ago in the eighties, the seventies...the fortunate knew it in the fifties.

You're addicted to wins. And the last ten years have been rehab - slowly weaning your psyche into the reality that now faces you. You stayed away from the bottle for a long eight years but you cracked. You messed up. And consequences never were the same.

You chased the dragon.

You threw away the everyday, common failure that is Charlie Frye for something better. Something worth the Browns of old - you threw out Frye, after one game, and you inserted into your life Derek "The Dragon" Anderson.

You got close with Derek. He almost led you to the promised land, that fabelled thing we called glory. But no one ever catches the dragon - they only chase it. Derek Anderson failed us. And like opium, every hit after just wasn't the same. It just wasn't enough. It wasn't brilliant enough.

But the memory. Oh the memory! WINNING. You can roll your tongue around it and remember the flavor. You can spit out the piss water and rust. And for a moment...it seems real. You experience it for one brief moment.

Then it goes away.

And it was even worse than before.

You tried to replicate it. You brought the second string guy in, turned the QB position into a yo-yo. It worked once and you just couldn't stop. You'd been imprisoned in your very own B.F. Skinner box, destined to desire an NFL mistake that only paid off once.

In your heart of hearts you know Wallace starting is a bad thing. But you've lied to yourself. You let the addiction take control of you, warp you. Baby, if he were meant to be...he would already be there.

You might get lucky now and then, win the quarterback lottery. But you're far more likely to be struck by lighting and struck by a wasted season, left with nothing but rubble, doubt, and a bag of regrets. To inject controversy into an ecosystem that is already fragile is the endeavor of fools.

And like fools we stand with our mouths agape, waiting for Seneca to turn into our QB Jesus and save the day, just as Derek "saved" us. But Derek was a false prophet.

The bench is not where miracles sit. Nay, Derek was simply the avatar of the dragon, who we shall always chase fruitlessly. Those who follow the way of the dragon lay destruction, ruin, isolation.

Free yourself, brothers. Forsake the addiction, the love of those who would be QB. Come back into the sweet, sweet light of rationality.