The Jinx Factor On Judgment Day

There I was, standing nervously in front of the podium of St. Peter next to the Pearly Gates. He looked down at me with a knowing expression, twirled his key on his index finger, and then spoke in a solemn voice.

“Before we can consider whether you might gain entrance, we have a few things to discuss. There is a lot to talk about, but we’ll start with sports,” St. Peter said.

“Sports?” I asked. Surprised but thinking quickly, I added: ”I’m sorry for all of the cursing and anger issues when I played golf.”

St. Peter chuckled with a sound like rolling thunder. ”Hah! Don’t worry about that–it’s why we enticed the Scots to invent the infernal game in the first place. Golf was designed to get under people’s skin and provoke them to outbursts of temper and profanity. We figured people generally, and the Scots specifically, needed to get that out of their systems, and golf is a pretty harmless way to do it.”

“Well, that’s good to know,” I said with relief. ”But if it’s not golf, what sports issue do I need to address with you?”

“Specifically, it’s about your commitment to the sports teams for which you claimed to be a fan.” After a glance at a great, leather-bound volume, St. Peter added: ”Your record indicates you were not sufficiently attentive to avoiding jinxes that affected your teams.”

“Wait . . . what?” I stammered. ”Are you saying that jinxes are real, and that my clothing choice, the seat I was sitting in, my decisions on whether to record games, and whether I was wearing a lucky hat and consumed the right number of beers actually influenced the outcome of games? I thought that was all just silly superstition that humanity outgrew in the age of science.”

St. Peter shook his head sadly. ”Actually, the reverse is true. You know from your exposure to quantum physics and the thought experiment with Schrodinger’s cat that an event can exist in a state of superposition, where any outcome is possible, until the event is observed. You’ve heard of the observer effect and the concept of the butterfly effect, where the flapping of a butterfly’s wings can contribute to the generation of a hurricane. In short, the science of your time is just beginning to glimpse the great truth: we are all in this together, and the actions and thoughts of one person can alter the zeitgeist and the karmic forces that affect everyone and can have a definite effect on the results of athletic contests.” 

“Okay, I think I can grasp that,” I said, “but sports? Isn’t being a sports fan kind of . . . trivial in the grand scheme of things?”

St. Peter tapped his key on the lectern, shifted in his seat, and looked down at me with another rueful shake of his head. ”That view is also wrong,” he said. ”In fact, sports are extremely important to the human story. As one of our residents here used to say, they allow people to vicariously experience ‘the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.’ And they also reinforce some important points that humans need to be reminded of–that the world isn’t necessarily fair, but the important thing is to remain dedicated, keep the faith, and do what you can to try to ensure a better outcome the next time. Sports fans can do that by continuing to support their chosen teams, even through the rough times–and also make sure that they take personal actions that will help to positively influence the outcome.”

St. Peter looked down at his great book again, and added: ”You’ve had some failures and some successes on that score that we need to discuss. Those two Ohio State national championship games you attended–your behavior in those instances was flawless. You did everything you needed to do, from wearing the right clothes, carrying a lucky buckeye, and imparting respectful and positive energy in favor of the Men of the Scarlet and Gray, and the outcomes reflected that.”

I grinned at those positive memories, with a welling sense of pride at my individual contribution to two great days for Buckeye Nation.

“And then there’s the Cleveland Browns, and The Drive and The Fumble,” St. Peter continued, turning to more painful topics. You already know what you did to cause The Drive, when you let one of your friends leave his seat in Cleveland Municipal Stadium when the contest was in the balance. You can’t imagine how upsetting that was to the energy forces that day. And The Fumble happened because you neglected to wear the right sweatshirt, and in watching the game you showed an unseemly overconfidence that the Browns would win that also roiled the kismet in an unfavorable way.” 

I grimaced at these devastating memories, ashamed that my conduct harmed my team.

“So your record shows some good and some bad,” St. Peter noted, as he turned a page. ”Now, let’s talk about what you did on January 13, 2024, the day of the playoff game between the Cleveland Browns and the Houston Texans.”

And then I woke up.

Trying To Reverse The Karma

Today we’re going to try to reverse the karma. End the jinx. Lance the boil. Drain the painful, embarrassing, festering sore of failure and disaster that Browns fans have had to endure since time immemorial–i.e., 1964.

The year was 1986. Kish and I had just moved back to Columbus, and UJ and I decided to get Browns season tickets. The Browns had a fine year, improbably won a heart-stopping playoff game against the New York Jets, and hosted the AFC championship game against the Denver Broncos. With time running out, the Browns held the lead. But then, one of the members of our group made an ill-advised decision to leave his seat to respond to urgent needs. His decision left us aghast, but the damage was done. The rest is history. The karma was shifted, what the became known as The Drive occurred, and the Browns lost.

All of us believe that this action by a lone fan in remote seats in the bowels of Cleveland Stadium had a crucial, defining impact on what happened on the field. And since then, we have suffered with the consequences. The Browns lost again the following year in heart-breaking fashion, never advanced that far again, the original Browns franchise left Cleveland, we went without football for a time, and the new Browns have an unrivalled record of failure. Cleveland still has not made it to a Super Bowl.

But this year, we have decided enough is enough.

How do you shift the bad karma, and end a jinx? One website identifies five steps: (1) identify the pattern; (2) take responsibility for it; (3) learn from it; (4) take positive actions; and (5) forgive yourself and everyone else. According to the website: “You cannot untie the karmic knots in your life without trying to unearth your behavioral patterns that lead to unending bad luck. Take as much time as possible to identify one, two, or even ten things that could be behind the negativity in your life.”

So today, we’re going to take these affirming steps. We’ve identified the “behavioral pattern” that caused the bad karma. We’ve accepted responsibility for our role in bringing it about, we’ve learned that we need to address it, and we’re taking positive action to reverse it by going up to today’s again (against the Baltimore Ravens, the former Browns franchise that left Cleveland in the dark days after the karma turned sour) and returning to the scene, 35 years after the karmic shift. Forgiving ourselves is harder, but three of us who were there will be there again–and this time we’ll make sure that everyone stays firmly in their seats, come hell or high water.

Go Browns!

30 Years After “The Drive”

Thirty years ago, yesterday, UJ and I and two of our friends were sitting in our seats in Cleveland Municipal Stadium, watching the AFC championship game and hoping that the Browns would finally make it to the Super Bowl.

It was the first year after Kish and I had moved back to Ohio from Washington, D.C., and UJ and I decided to spring for season tickets to the Browns.  To our delight, the team — led by Bernie Kosar, Ozzie Newsome, two great running backs, some very good receivers, a defense that would bend but not break, and an indomitable coach, Marty Schottenheimer — turned out to be really good.  We saw some great wins during the regular season, and the Browns had won an improbable, come from behind, overtime thriller playoff game against the Jets the week before.  Now, on a cold day on the Cleveland lakefront, the Browns were playing the Denver Broncos for the AFC slot in the Super Bowl.

Of course, just as the Browns seemed to be on the cusp of victory that day, “The Drive” happened, and the hopes of the team and Browns fans the world over were crushed.  It’s a story that has almost become the stuff of legend — which is why you can find Cleveland newspapers and, of course, the Denver Broncos website remembering it, 30 years later — and it is always mentioned, bitterly, when people talk about the horrors of Cleveland sports fans over the past half century.

I didn’t realize that yesterday was the 30th anniversary of “The Drive” until one of the guys I went to the game with mentioned it.  I groaned when he did, because I had no interest in ever thinking about that game again, and I expected to experience that familiar hot blast of pain and frustration that always bubbles up whenever I remember that game — but to my surprise my reaction yesterday really wasn’t all that bad.  It’s almost as if the Cavs’ NBA championship win last year, and the passage of three decades, have taken the pitchforks out of the demons’ hands that are lurking in my Cleveland sports fan subconscious and replaced them with something softer that can produce a twinge of regret, but not the torment and angst that once seemed to be everlasting.

They say that time heals all wounds.  Maybe it’s true, even for sports fans.

For Browns Fans, The Situation Is Always Grave

Scott Entsminger, like every diehard Browns fan, needed a sense of humor.  How else to deal with the emotional wreckage caused by The Drive?  How else to cope with the soul-crushing aftermath of The Fumble?  How else to rationalize the absurd clown show that has been the Cleveland Browns since the franchise returned to the National Football League to achieve an unrivaled record of futility?

So it makes sense that Mr. Entsminger, a lifelong Browns fan and season ticket holder, would display that gallows humor even when he went on to join the Choir Invisible.  Entsminger’s final request, as shown in his obituary, was that six members of the Cleveland Browns football team serve as his pallbearers and hoist him into the grave after he had ceased to be.  As his obit put it:  “He respectfully requests six Cleveland Browns pall bearers so the Browns can let him down one last time.”

His family asks that everyone attending his funeral wear their Browns gear.  I hope everyone does . . . and I hope that the Browns see the story, and six good-humored players show up at the service to honor a lifelong fan’s last request.  It would make Mr. Entsminger, and my Dad, and Grandpa Neal, and every other Browns fan who has left this Mortal Coil smile.

Mr. Entsminger, I salute you!  And I feel that the torch has been passed.  Russell and I become season ticket holders in a few weeks, and we’ll try to carry the torch a bit farther with the same good humor you have shown — even if it kills us.