It might be impossible, but Browns owner Randy Lerner must try to patch up the rift with Jim Brown. For his football career alone, Brown is still a revered figure in town.
Browns owner Randy Lerner, here talking to Jim Brown in 2006, needs to speak to the Browns' all-time leading rusher in an effort to heal the rift that has developed between Brown and the organization.It never seemed right that Johnny Unitas finished his career with the San Diego Chargers, not the Baltimore Colts, or that Joe Namath ended as a Ram, not a Jet. Certain players should stay where they first earned the admiration of their fans, first occupied a place in their hearts, and first captured the imagination of a whole city.
No one likes to see such great players estranged from the franchises that were the touchstones of their careers, but it is sadly understandable if they want to prolong their careers.
It is harder to understand if the player is not only the franchise's all-time best, but the best anywhere. Such players should be basking in the applause and appreciation of the fans. They should be revivifying great memories. They should not be using words the way they lowered their shoulders or stiffened their arms to send opponents reeling. They have no opponents now, except those they wish to create.
Jim Brown's bitter, angry letter to the Browns, announcing his intention to skip the inaugural Ring of Honor ceremonies on Sept. 19, has estranged the team's iconic running back from the fans and from the custodians of the franchise today. Maybe it is simply "Jim being Jim," the way strange behavior was seen as "Manny being Manny" with the Indians. Only with racial slurs in Brown's case.
Brown fought for every inch on the field of play, so it is natural to assume he would fight for every scrap of influence he had accrued under Randy Lerner's stewardship of the franchise. Still, one wonders how much power any 74-year-old ex-player, even the game's greatest one, who had been out of the game since 1965, would have held with any owner except the reclusive Lerner.
So accustomed are fans to Brown's intemperate outbursts that even his latest race-baiting would be tolerated if he would consent to come back to the family. He is the eternal agitator, unassimilated, perhaps unassimilable. His refusal to budge an inch is part of his stubborn appeal. So many athletes recently have stood for the national anthem and not much else.
Brown's desire is to remain relevant, to rage against the dying of light. He will consent neither to being a "greeter" or a "mascot," which are the sulfurous terms he used for the downsized role new team President Mike Holmgren has given him.
Brown, sensitive soul that he claims to be, says he has been disrespected because his advice carries no weight now. Unfortunately, he feels free to trash others' reputations without qualm, using racial smears based on flimsy evidence. He put words in Holmgren's mouth, then criticized him for them. It is a nice trick, if you can pull it off before an inattentive audience.
He says Lerner reneged on the terms of their agreement for his consulting position. Given the popularity and credibility of Holmgren, this would be read as entitlement in many cities. It certainly is by me.
Only Lerner can fix this, and maybe even his efforts would be impossible, given Brown's apparent intransigence. But he must try.
Because Brown had the greatest career anyone ever had, and all of it was here. Because Lerner must prove he is the bigger man, with the more generous impulse to reconciliation. Because he has the greater charge to heal the breach.
In "Ball Four," pitcher Jim Bouton wrote movingly that he had "spent a good piece of (his) life gripping a baseball, only to find it was the other way around all the time."
The man on the street wants to see the implacable old football hero in Cleveland Browns Stadium in two weeks. Even if Brown cannot get a grip on his emotions, his hold on so many here endures.