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Big Fraud
Try and make this quick-like,
There is still an end-zone section of Cleveland Browns Stadium officially designated as "the Dawg Pound". The real Dawg Pound, the place made famous (or infamous, depending on your allegiances) during the Browns' heyday in the late '80s, has been dead for a long time, struck down by several illnesses- franchise relocation, political correctness, inflation, and most of all, the appalling football the Browns have generally played for the last two decades. Some people are still under the impression that the Pound lives. They should be disabused of that notion thanks to events in Sunday's game, a rare Browns victory, as it was.
John Thompson is a Browns super fan known to the world at large (or at any rate, the part of the world that gives a rat's ass about the Browns) as Big Dawg. He's the man in the front row they always show when the network cuts back to the game, wearing a dog mask and a Browns jersey, Number 98. He used to be grotesquely overweight but underwent the Carnie Wilson procedure a few years ago, and although he still has the baggy, waddled flesh of a 400-pound man, at least he doesn't sound like an eighteen-wheeler climbing a steep grade when he walks up a flight of steps.
Fat or thin, he's a little bit of a polarizing figure among fans. People get worked up over the guy. He regularly gets booed at team functions by people who either really dislike him or are just keeping in practice for the season, and for every glowing tale of Thompson's warm and generosity, there's a horror story of an arrogant, piggish SOB who never pays a check, demands remuneration for the very grace of his presence, and even makes the demand: "Do you know who I am?" of those who don't cooperate with the sowing of his legend. What's without question is that he's an attention whore of the first magnitude. I've never met the man, but I'm taking a safe guess here.
Chad Johnson needs no introduction. Chad, of course, proclaimed loudly several days before the game that he planned on jumping into the Dawg Pound if he scored a touchdown at the open end of the stadium. He scored two on Sunday, part of a gigantic game that pushed him to the top of Cincinnati's all-time receiving yardage list and pushed fantasy teams to victory all over America.
Now, I like Chad okay. He doesn't really seem like a malicious guy, and over the last few years he's been pretty much the only player in the NFL who treats the Browns with any respect whatsoever, praising their secondary in general and Leigh Bodden in particular. (Johnson absolutely roasted Bodden on Sunday) He's a good player, a solid performer, and I'd take him on my team any day. But if I'd still empty out a cup of beer on him and fire it off his striped helmet if he leaped into my vicinity. It's the least I can do.
Dawg Pound Mike loves Dawg Pound Mike
Long story short, Ocho Five scored his second touchdown in the Dawg Pound end of the stadium, and sure enough he made his leap into the stands. Most fans greeted him with a barrage of airborne suds and waving 'fuck-fingers'- a guy who strangely resembled Jhonny Peralta was particularly emphatic- but Mr. Big Dawg himself seemed reluctant to defend his house. In fact, he helped yank Chad up into the Pound, while he gave the braces-wearing ex-Beaver several emphatic pats on the back before the Bengals receiver returned to the field, his uniform smelling like a brewery.
It looked to the naked eye as if C.J. and Big Dawg, along with a third toolbar I'll get to in a minute, had cooked the whole thing up. The two (along with the third toolbar) were shown embracing and chatting warmly just prior to the game, and after Johnson scored, he made a beeline directly for the area where Big Dawg and the third toolbar were located. Big Dawg and the third toolbar looked as if they were greeting Chad with open arms.
The third toolbar is Dawg Pound Mike. He was the founder of the Charlie's Fryes, a duo that dressed up as one-third of a Happy Meal on behalf of the feeble-armed ex-Browns quarterback (reading the tea leaves correctly, DP Mike disbanded the Fryes over the summer). Now that Frye has been exiled to Seattle- Vladivostok doesn't have an NFL franchise and Jet City was as far as they could send the Willard Wonder- Dawg Pound Mike, his thirst for self-aggrandizement not even close to sated, is back to celebrating the real object of his idolatry- Dawg Pound Mike.
Big Dawg was a lifer in the old Pound who became as full of himself as his body was full of blubber. Dawg Pound Mike is just a jack-hole. And a toolbar.
The one and only Dawg Pound: 1085 W. 3rd Street, Cleveland, Oh.
Which finally leads to somewhat of a point- if you build a website devoted to yourself as a fan of a team, you're not being a fan of that team. You're being a fan of yourself. And when you're a fan of yourself, you end up hugging it up with opposing players and getting behind their idiotic attempts to show up your city, your stadium, your team, and you as well. You're not supposed to be an individual. You're supposed to be one voice added to the sound of the crowd. It isn't about you. It never was.
Dear Browns- Just get rid of the Dawg Pound already. It's a joke. It's become a few assholes sucking up all of the oxygen. It's been over since the Fine Young Cannibals were on the charts. For the love of Frank Minnifield, Hanford Dixon, Chris Rockins, Felix Wright, and Don Rogers (RIP), stop the charade. And that thing you did on Sunday where you scored more points than the other team? Keep doing it. Peace.
Posts: 1054 Rank: 12 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
two up two down, VA
Posted: 9/19/2007 8:15:06 AM
watched the game on sopcast and couldn't believe it. i like ocho stinko when he's not in cleveland - i think he's a hell of a player, good for the league, and that his celebrations are genuinely for fun (opposed to TO's whose shenannigans are genuinely for TO).
there are rumblings on 'the boards' that there were a few respectable dawgs left in the pound that opted to not waste beer (or time standing in line for the pisser) and dumped another yellow liquid on stinko. when he came away smelling his jersey with a "wtf" look on his face kind of leads me to believe it's possible.
p.s. that picture fully captures the douche-a-tude of DPM even without him dressed as a happy meal.
If you wear football pants (pic 2) to a game and you are not playing, you are out of your fuking mind.
Cool: jersey face paint body paint (college & under) big finger signs
Not Cool: entire uniform(even more if your name is on back) helmet added shit to resemble team mascot ie. feathers,animal horns,whiskers..etc creating and being a character in public (insane)
How can a man look at his kids in the eye and then leave the house dressed like that?
Posts: 1542 Rank: 6 Joined:
12/7/2006
Location:
New York, NY
Posted: 9/19/2007 8:20:45 AM
into the Dawg Pound then they are the biggest sellouts in all of sports. How could you openly embrace the most obnoxious player in the legue (and also a player on your arch-rival) into your cheering section? All I know is that he would thinking twice before jusmping into the Black Hole. I'd punch him the throat if given half a chance while I'm certain someone else would shank him.
But, I don't think this merits breaking up teh Dawg Pound, does it? Don't the Browns need a diehard fan section? Doesn't every team want one? From an outsiders perspective I've always respected the Dawg Pound. It seems like a good time in there.
Dressing up like a mook or making a colorful ass of yourself at a football game is something you're supposed to get over after your 2nd or 3rd (sometimes 5th) year of college.
Although...i guess big dawg probably isn't sporting any sort of diploma at all is he?
My rule: 1. Treat your teams like a relationship. Be clear who you're with (rooting for), but never wear matching/themed clothes (dress up as an obvious non-sex getting assbag). 1a. You're always allowed to punch people in the face if they call her a cunt (lacking of a consistent or reliable front 5).
Posts: 769 Rank: 17 Joined:
6/20/2007
Location:
Norristown, PA
Posted: 9/19/2007 8:48:27 AM
Ye scurvy sea dog! Yer one day closer to Davy Jone's locker!
Spartan.
Spartan. Hmm.
There be only one other man by the name of Spartan that I can recollect. He was a Greek man, broad as a beam, and hairy as a goat's nether regions. He abandoned us near a storm down in Tierra del Fuego, we lost good men there swept in the churning ocean. We searched the ship for him. We caught him in his cabin with a live octopus up his ass. All we could see was a couple tentacles sticking out of buttchecks, like a dying houseplant.
We hung him for sodomy and threw his body in the water.
Posts: 134 Rank: 14 Joined:
5/11/2007
Location:
St. Louis, MO
Posted: 9/19/2007 9:10:48 AM
To the briny deep with ya arse ya scurvy sea maggot!
Long ago lived a seaman named Captain Bravo. He was a manly man who showed no fear in facing his enemies. One day, while sailing the seven seas, a look-out spotted a pirate ship and the crew became frantic. Captain Bravo bellowed, ''Bring me my Red Shirt.'' The First Mate quickly retrieved the captain's red shirt and whilst wearing the bright red frock he led his men into battle and defeated the pirates.
Later on that day, the look-out spotted not one, but two pirate ships. The captain again called for his red shirt and once again, though the fighting was fierce, he was victorious over the two ships. That evening, all the men sat around on the deck recounting the day's triumphs and one of the them asked the captain, ''Sir, why do you call for your red shirt before battle? The captain replied, ''If I am wounded in the attack, the shirt will not show my blood and thus, you men will continue to fight, unafraid.''
All of the men sat in silence and marveled at the courage of such a manly man as Captain Bravo. As dawn came the next morning, the look-out spotted not one, not two, but TEN pirates ships approaching from the far horizon. The crew stared at the captain and waited for his usual reply.
Captain Bravo calmly shouted, ''Get me my brown pants.''
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