Written by Andrew Clayman

---

Just imagine for a moment that the answer to this question was one of actual consequence. From a field of candidates even less inspiring than the current rogues gallery of Republican frontrunners, which head coach of your 21st century Cleveland Browns would earn your vote as the “best”— or at least, the one who got the most out of the paltry arsenal bestowed upon him? Given a choice between Palmer, Davis, Crennel, Mangini, and Shurmur, whom—to put it more bluntly—sucked the least?

Bit of a perverse undertaking, ain’t it? They are, after all, five upstanding gentlemen from diverse backgrounds—unwittingly bound together in a fraternity of colossal failure. None of them won more games than they lost, and none managed approval ratings much higher than Watergate era Nixon or post-inferno Nero. But across the span of 13 seasons, logic would dictate that at least one of these whistle-wearing numbskulls made you feel a little less homicidal than the others.

Memory clouded by a fog of lingering angst? No worries. As luck would have it, all five of the expansion Browns’ head coaches are here today to personally and shamelessly pander to you for re-consideration—like a Presidential debate with more khakis.

 

We’ll begin, naturally, with the captain of Cleveland’s original, re-animated Browns corpse… your head coach in 1999 and 2000… Chris Palmer. Mr. Palmer, thirty seconds.

CHRIS PALMER: Thank you and good evening. Or morning as the case may be. I probably should start by re-introducing myself. I’m Chris Palmer, the bald guy with the glasses. Remember? I coached the Browns for two years. Weird, huh?

Anyway, Cleveland, I feel like maybe we didn’t get to know each other so well the first time around, so let me tell you a little about myself and why I am—by default—the best Browns coach on this panel right now.

So, let’s see. I’m an East Coast guy—born in New York, graduated from the football powerhouse known as Southern Connecticut State. You probably never knew this, but I was a Receivers Coach for the run-and-shoot Oilers of the early ‘90s and the Offensive Coordinator for the Mark Brunell era Jacksonville Jags before I scuttled into your world in 1999. I was also the head coach at Boston University for two seasons back in the ‘80s, which apparently made me the ideal choice to take on the monumental task of making a contender out of a rag tag crew of castoffs, rookies, and construction workers while the expectations of a whole city rested on my shoulders.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, considering the circumstances, I did a pretty damn respectable job, wouldn’t you say? Carmen Policy pulled my name out of a hat, gave me Travis Prentice and Darrin Chiaverini, and said “try not to go 0-16,” and I didn’t. Sure, my 5-27 record and .156 winning percentage is the worst among non-interim coaches in franchise history. That dirties up a resume a bit, believe you me. But fact is, I’m the coach that shepherded your beloved Brownies back into existence, which ought to at least forgive some of that abysmal football. Plus, I beat the Steelers once, which is actually as many times as anybody else up here. Thank you.

Butch Davis, your rebuttal?

BUTCH DAVIS: Thanks, Andrew. Hello, Cleveland. …You know, I have to admire Chris for his positivity and his convictions, but I think we all know that as an NFL head coach, he sucked donkey balls. Consistently, game to game, year to year… donkey balls. It wasn’t until I came along in 2001 that everyone in Cleveland realized that their new Browns didn’t have to be known as the Clowns, or the Frowns, or the… Drowns, or whatever. It was me, Butch Davis, who re-introduced the concept of so-so football to this town. We committed ourselves to the goal of not sucking, and sure enough, we didn’t suck as much as Chris Palmer’s team did. Obviously, the big payoff of this effort was 2002, when we snuck our way into the postseason at 9-7 and looked great for one half of one playoff game. By most measures, that was a so-so season, especially considering we lost to our fiercest rival three times in a row in heartbreaking fashion. But matched up against the other 12 seasons of the New Browns, 2002 was basically a single, sustained orgasm for all Cleveland fans. And I’m the guy who took you there. Me and Kelly Holcomb. Kelly Holcomb and I took you to orgasm. So.. when it comes to choosing a best coach, I think you'll see fit to pay me back like any grateful john should. Davis out.

Alrighty. Romeo Crennel, the podium is yours.

ROMEO CRENNEL: Hmm, well what can I say to that? I'm Romeo. Y'all remember me. Good ole Coach Crennel. ...To Chris Palmer, I love you, Man. Hell, I was your D coordinator in 2000. But, I gotta be honest. I’ve coached with Bill Belichick, too. And Chris, you’re no Forrest Gregg. As for you, Butch… you and I have a lot in common. We were both Super Bowl winning defensive coordinators who probably got more credit than we deserved. And we both brought Browns fans unspeakable carnal pleasures with the only winning seasons of the expansion era. But while you’ve spent most of your career corrupting college athletes at crooked programs like Miami and North Carolina, I’ve been floating around NFL sidelines for 30 years—growing my mustache, expanding my belly, and looking generally apathetic about life. Basically, I don’t make waves. And that’s what prepared me to take over the Browns after you abandoned the team in shame in 2004. You managed to follow up a playoff year by releasing half your players-- claiming they were products of the system—and then quitting after a 3-8 start. Nobody else here failed to make it through the end of a season-- except maybe Pat, but that remains to be seen [chuckles from the others on the panel].

Anyway, just look at the facts, folks. I am the fattest coach here. And I am the nicest. I am the most huggable. It was hard for you to stay mad at me when we went 6-10 in 2005 and 4-12 in 2006, wasn’t it? Based on the usual trend around here, I should have been canned after that second god awful embarrassment of a season. I mean, we went WINLESS in our division! And I still kept my job! Why? Because I am so cuddly, duh. Come over here and give your uncle Romeo a hug. That’s right.

Now, remember 2007? That was pretty fun wasn’t it? Remember how I led your Browns to their best record of the expansion era? We went 10-6 and had ever so much fun. You, me, Derek, Kellen, Braylon. Nevermind what happened after that, or how we blew it against Cincinnati and ruined our playoff chances in week 16. Just remember what it was like to be relevant, and think of my pudgy, adorable, expressionless face. Then say, ‘Romeo, Romeo, where for art thou, Coach Crennel?’ And I will say, ‘right here, at the top of the list of best coaches of the crappy Browns.’ Thank you and God bless the United States of Cleveland.

ERIC MANGINI: Are you serious, Romeo? Yeesh. …Look, this whole thing seems pretty silly and pointless to me. When the Cleveland fans out there saw the premise of this article, they thought one of two things. A) "this is dumb." Or B) "Mangenius." Simple as that. If that mouth-breathing nincompoop Shurmur has accomplished anything this year, it’s helping all of Cleveland realize just how much they truly loved me.

Romeo, I got rings with Belichick, too, and I was just as fat as you in 2009. But to show how dynamic I am, I dropped down to Shurmur’s weight last year. And unlike the rest of you, I actually came to Cleveland with previous NFL head coaching experience. Which is to say, I wasn’t a horrible choice to lead a rebuilding team in developmental mode. As a result, it only took me half a season to clean up the rubble from Romeo’s catastrophic 2008 season—his second 4-12 season in four years—and close out 2009 with four straight wins. We carried that momentum right into last season, when I cut down our penalties, used our limited talent to its best capabilities, and got us our most exciting and satisfying wins of the expansion era. If you didn’t cream your jeans after I destroyed New Orleans and New England last year, you need to check your pulse, Son!

Anyway, maybe some of you assumed the Walrus had it right when he let me go after last season. But I’m betting it took about two Pat Shurmur press conferences for you to start saying to yourself, “gee, Mangini might not have been that cardboard and boring, after all.” Or, “okay, Mangini was pretty dull, but at least he didn’t sound like Lennie from Of Mice and Men.” Stuff like that.

Mr. Shurmur, rebuttal?

PAT SHURMUR: Well first, let me just say that Peyton Hillis will not start this week. He has been ruled out again with a hamstring injury. And with that in mind, I’d like to add that I didn’t personally injure Peyton’s hamstring. Nor did I place Alex Mack’s leg in Ryan Pontbriand’s snap path. I also played no role in Tony Pashos being a Brown. I’ve never even personally spoken to the guy.

I know it might sound like I’m just deflecting blame, or getting kinda pissy and attitudinal. I know it might appear that I’m having an immature reaction to everyone saying my play calling sucks or that I look, sound, and act like I’m in over my head and clueless and a walking disaster. But that’s simply not the case. Fact is, if I win this Sunday at Cincinnati, I will own a 5-6 record-- good enough for the best winning percentage of anybody standing on this stage. And maybe that’s depressing. Maybe I don’t really have a leg to stand on in this debate because I’m a bit of a bumbling noob right now. But whatever. I only inherited this mess, people. I’m not the one who thought Brian Robiskie was an NFL receiver.

TERRY ROBIKSIE: Excuse me! Can I get a word in here or what?

Ah, it would appear that Brian Robiskie's dad and former Browns interim coach Terry Robiskie has joined us in the audience. I must apologize, Mr. Robiskie, but because you only coached 6 games after Butch Davis departed in 2003, you didn’t meet the requirements for this debate.

ROBISKIE: Yeah, I know, I know. But I also feel like that’s exactly why I, Terry Robiskie, am truly the greatest head coach of the expansion Browns era.

How do you figure that exactly? You were only 1-5.

ROBISKIE: Maybe so, but nobody remembers me enough to think ill of me. And that makes me the best of this sorry lot.

[After a brief pause, the audience begins to applaud, and the other coaches shrug their shoulders in familiar defeat. Terry Robiskie, apparently, is the greatest Cleveland Browns head coach of the modern era.]