An Insta-Browns Diary

The Jets-Browns catastrophe ended about 90 seconds ago, and I had to grab my computer and write something very quickly because my Browns spider senses are tingling. The last time those senses twitched like this was a few months ago, when, in the third round of the draft, the Browns took undersized quarterback Dillon Gabriel in the third round instead of the much more highly touted and ultra-famous Shedeur Sanders.

My entire body was just buzzing with one thought:

Sure enough, the Browns DID take Shedeur Sanders the next day, even though it made absolutely no sense, and it has worked out exactly as poorly as anyone could have guessed. I’m not claiming to be Nostradamus here. I just believe that after 50-plus years of living through this team’s lows and other lows, I know these guys better than I know my own feelings.

And here’s what’s buzzing through my entire body right now in the seconds after an astonishing loss to the Jets.

Kevin Stefanski is about to get fired.

How soon? Can’t say. But the feeling is strong. I’m not entirely sure he’s going to make it through tomorrow.

The timing, admittedly, is inconvenient. If you are going to fire a coach midseason, you would prefer to do it over the bye week to give the team a little time to adjust — and the Browns are coming off their bye week. There’s a pretty strong argument to be made that there’s no value in firing a coach after the bye week; it makes so much more sense to just wait until after the season ends.

Maybe so. But after this Browns-Jets game … I’m making the call.

He’s getting fired. Maybe tonight. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. But soon.

You probably don’t know what happened in this Browns-Jets game because you have a life, and one of the advantages of having a life is the freedom to pay no attention when a tragicomic 2-6 football team (Cleveland) plays a 1-7 football team that just traded away its two best players in a public announcement that they are throwing the 2025 seasons into the wood chipper (New York).

So let me give you just a few highlights:

— The Jets had 42 yards passing for the whole game, a neat trick since the winning touchdown was a 42-yard pass play from Justin Fields to Breece Hall. That’s right. They had ZERO passing yards except for that play. Again: The Jets won the game.

— The Browns gave up a kickoff return touchdown AND a punt return touchdown in the same quarter. I’m not sure the last time that happened, and I don’t really have the time or will to look it up, but it’s a first in New York Jets history.

— The Browns had twice as many first downs, 100 more total yards, 10 extra minutes in time of possession, didn’t turn over the ball, and STILL didn’t come close to winning this game against a team that, again, is run by people desperately trying to tank this season.

— In all, the Browns allowed fewer than 175 total yards AND didn’t turn the ball over AND lost. According to Rich Cimini, the last team to pull of that trifecta was the Never Happened Befores back in 234 BC.

All that stuff is, well, not “typical” Browns silliness. But it’s also not entirely out of line with the team’s history. They find ways to lose in the most delightful ways! No, simply losing this game, with all that, is not why I think Stefanski is doomed.

No, it’s the ending that has my intuition screaming. I started the Browns Diary 10 years ago so I could tap into the sports passion I felt as a child and write about what it means to be a fan.

And in those last minutes, I felt it.

With about three minutes left, the Browns kick a field goal to pull within a touchdown. Let’s set the scene. The Browns have all three of their timeouts. Rain is pouring down in New York. Announcer Spiro Dedes assures us that the Browns are not only alive but very much alive. I do not believe they are very much alive because winning would require them to get the ball back and drive the length of the field for a touchdown, but with that much time left, with all three timeouts in your pocket, well, stranger things have happened than the Browns coming back. I can’t think of many. But I’m sure they have.

The camera focuses on Kevin Stefanski … and he has this look on his face. Stefanski’s cardinal trait as a football coach, I think, has been his ability to keep a straight face no matter. He’s like the Bob Newhart of the NFL; he never breaks, never gives any indication that he’s thrown by the lunacy and slapstick comedy that always surrounds him.

But now his face says something else. His sweatshirt is drenched, his hair is matted down. His eyes seem hollow. You can just sense that Stefanski cannot believe his team is losing this game. How are they losing this game? Where did he go wrong — not just in practice but in his life?

But the game isn’t lost! Not entirely! With two minutes left, the Jets face 2nd and 7. Then the Browns’ defense pulls out a devastating run blitz, breaks through, and tackles Hall for a nine-yard loss. Timeout! The game is still winnable!

Now it’s 3rd and 16 from the Jets’ 39 with 1:56 left. You can do the math — the Browns get a stop, they get the ball back with, say, 1:45 left, and they even have a timeout to work with! This is not impossible! Stranger things have happened!

The Jets predictably roll out Fields in an effort to run off as much clock as they can. He is obviously not going to throw the ball — he has thrown for FORTY TWO YARDS THE WHOLE GAME — and the Browns swarm him and tackle him for a loss.

Timeout! Quick! No! Wait! Why is the clock stopped?

Oh. There’s a flag on the play. Did the Browns jump offside? Dumb but OK, that’s not the end of the world, it’s still third and 11 and … oh, wait the Browns didn’t jump offside.

Defensive holding.

Yeah. The Browns are called for defensive holding. Devin Bush, a seven-year linebacker for the Steelers, Seahawks, and Browns, had grabbed a receiver for absolutely no reason that anyone can understand. It is quite possibly the worst penalty I’ve seen in my entire life of watching professional football.

And that gives the Jets a first down.

The look on Stefanski’s face, if possible, grows longer, sadder and more despondent. And I think of the Bobby Ross quote after his Lions blew a game to Philadelphia: “You think I coach that stuff? I don’t coach that stuff! I spend time on that stuff! And I’m getting all the damn heat!”

But the game is STILL not over — not quite over. The heartbeat is faint, but as Miracle Max says, there’s a difference between mostly dead and all dead. The Browns stop the Jets on first and second down and use their last timeouts. On third down, they stuff Hall for a loss. It’s fourth and 5. The Jets have to punt. There will be almost a minute left.

Difficult? Sure. Possible? Maybe.

The Jets then do that stupid thing where they send the offense on the field in a transparent, futile, pointless attempt to draw the Browns offside. It’s laughable. It’s insulting. This stuff never works — no professional football team would ever jump offside in such a moment, not even the Browns. This is such a dumb, needless, ridiculous …

Cleveland’s Cameron Thomas jumps offside.

And with that, if my lip reading is right, Kevin Stefanski says, “Oh my god!” and takes off his headset.

And I grab this computer. Those spider senses. Stefanski’s not making it to the end of the season. He might not make it to the end of the month. He honestly might not make it until Tuesday. He’s lost the team. He’s out of answers. It’s only downhill from here.

This is not all his fault. It’s probably not even mostly his fault. The owner. The organization. The trade. But there’s no coming back after this one. Kevin Stefanski is done.