A Question: What information should those who follow the Cleveland Browns like bloodhounds on a scent anticipate being able to sniff out during the off-season? Or, for that matter, anytime during the football year that seems now to never end?
Anyone who expected to gain a better understanding of the State of the Team or its direction from NFL Coach-of-the-Year Kevin Stefanski’s first media appearance in six weeks—safely distanced via Zoom, of course—might have come away from the experience scratching their heads even though they did not itch.
Regardless of the source/scent to which a bloodhound turned, the result was the same: nada, zip, nothing. The information stunk, which was unsurprising. A person does not become Coach of the Year in his first season as a head coach by saying anything informative, much less interesting. He wins such an honor as a result of team actions.
Many coaches—a majority is a good guess—would not say . . . if they had a mouthful of it. Stefanski is not unique in that regard, especially in Cleveland. I mean, the Browns are a team that employed Billy “GOAT” Belichick, the Greatest of All Time, coach category. He will become the first Pro Football Hall of Fame inductee whose bronze bust says more than he has during his career choice of mumbles and grunts. Compared to Belichick, Charlie Chaplin was a regular Chatty Cathy. When it comes to being incommunicado, Stefanski will not end up higher on the mountain than Billy GOAT.
Nevertheless, something Stefanski did not say during his 25-minute media event (event is used here in the loosest sense possible), was both revealing and disturbing. It had to do with talented David Njoku, a tight end who finished the team’s 12-6 playoff season, with some of his strongest performances of an otherwise undistinguished career. Njoku can be good—and he can be frustratingly unreliable. The only thing for which he could be counted on during 2020 was his wishy-washy desire to be a Cleveland Brown.
Stefanski, though giving props to Njoku, would not claim to know “Njoku’s latest feelings about staying or leaving,” according to Tony Grossi, senior Browns writer. This, despite the fact the coach and General Manager Andrew Berry have a bond as strong as epoxy, and in a couple of weeks will be paying Njoku the $6.013 million, if he is not released. Do not tell me—oh, that’s what they are doing—these two do not know exactly where they are with regards to Njoku. They may not read the sporting press or watch and listen to electronic media, as often claimed, but someone in the organization does.
Trying to find someone who will share even a modicum of information without condescension must be like going on a scavenger hunt with no or false clues. This attitude toward local media is not unheard of in Cleveland or elsewhere in the No Fun League, but in recent years it has seemingly worsened to the point that now only those with a national audience and reputation that opens doors even get a (secret) whiff.
If Stefanski is to be taken at his word, a person could conclude that while he knows a foundation has been laid for continued winning, he is unsure what it will look like. All he knows is that each season is a new season and what worked before may not work again. While not resting on laurels is laudatory, a coach who’s a willing communicator—there ought to be a category in the Hall of Fame for this rare breed—should work to share at least half-light on the general direction of that improvement. He does not have to draw every play in the playbook on the Zoom chalk board, but he should be willing to do more than say he and his offense, defense, and special teams must improve.
A person can get more detailed and better information from reading, on his paid website The Land on Demand, Grossi’s suggestions for how to make use of running backs Nick Chubb and Kareem Hunt in the same time and where quarterback Baker Mayfield should take most of his snaps (not under center) than by listening to a media conference. He can ascertain more about off-season priorities by paying attention to Steve Doerschuk and Dan Kadar and Nate Ulrich (USA TODAY Network) and Mary Kay Cabot (Cleveland.com). They are paid to share what they know, their colleague columnists what they think. Coaches and front-office personnel, in contrast, are paid to keep every scrap of information away from those who would spread it, keep it so close to their vests that their chests puff out with prideful disingenuousness until they resemble The Incredible Hulk, Lou Ferrigno. (Only, Lou was green, not a Brown.)
Injuries? What injuries? No updates. Every Brown is healing, improving, becoming an even better version of their selves pre-injury, as if the cure-all evangelist Oral Roberts has laid hands on their significant boo-boos. This may especially apply to Odell Beckham Jr., who is undeniably great yet has never shown his greatness in association with Baker Mayfield. His best moment last season was a not a reception but a magical run against Dallas that left the ’Boys looking like so many cow patties and with a loss.
So was there good news? Yes, there was. I’m not worried about Stefanski making himself a better coach. He is one of the Browns’ Ivy Leaguers, smart, eager lifelong learners, except maybe when it comes to communicating information. What Stefanski and the Browns have done that is exceptionally good is to bring along young coaches who are on the learning curve, especially Callie Brownson, Stefanski’s chief of staff who stepped in during 2020 to fill coaching voids resulting from COVID-19 and other problems. She was effective working with tight ends and receivers and now will learn from Stump Mitchell, run-game coordinator and running backs coach. Stefanski and the Browns hierarchy are admirably contentious about bringing others up to their level.
That’s what is so odd and disappointing about their tightfistedness with information and to whom they offer it. It’s as if they have interpreted this time of hiding behind protective masks to stay alive as license to hide themselves and their information even more than usual. This time of year, leading to free-agent movement and the college draft, usually includes smokescreens and feints and verbal misdirection. Now, the Browns have moved beyond fake news that is so accepted as a reality thanks to the former guy in the White House. As the Browns hide behind their masks—not on Zoom—there is no news.
A Postscript: And on Day Two of Don’t-Ask-Because-We-Won’t-Tell Week, General Manager Andrew Berry continued and reinforced the company line of silence, no comment, and it’s none-of-your-damned business. Even so, he offered more reassuring opinion than Stefanski. That’s the general manager’s job, but it doesn’t have to be this hard. If sunlight is the best disinfectant, it appears the sun doesn’t shine on the machinations deep in the darkened Browns Bunker.
