In Cleveland, stability is a cruel mirage. Just when the fanbase believes the quarterback carousel has finally stopped spinning, the organization manufactures a new crisis. Just when a star player on defense begins to “ball out,” he is shipped out of town for a statistical downgrade. This past week has been a masterclass in this chaos, leaving Browns fans justifiably “pissed off” as they try to decipher the logic behind a series of moves that feel, on the surface, like organizational self-destruction.

It began with the trade of quarterback Joe Flacco, which seemingly clarified the depth chart: Dylan Gabriel was QB1, and rookie sensation Shedeur Sanders was the clear QB2. But in Cleveland, nothing is clear. In a move that has been described as “unflipping real,” head coach Kevin Stefanski refused to make it official.

When asked directly if Sanders would be the backup, Stefanski deployed a baffling bit of corporate stonewalling. “We’ll let the week play out and I’ll make a decision later,” he stated, creating a quarterback “situation” from thin air where none existed.

This wasn’t a football answer. This was a “corporate move,” a bizarre power play from a coach determined to control the flow of information. As one analyst noted, with Stefanski, “Knowledge is power.” He alone will tell you who QB2 is, and he’ll do it when he is “good and ready.” This refusal to state the obvious, to simply promote the man who was already number three, has ignited a firestorm of frustration. Why play these games? Why create a “situation” that only serves to unsettle the team and infuriate the fans?

The answer, it seems, is twofold. The first is a cynical game of control. The second, however, may be a much more terrifying—and practical—secret that the organization is desperate to hide.

While Stefanski was playing his “knowledge is power” games, the front office executed a trade that has sent shockwaves through the fanbase. The Browns traded Greg Newsome, their “second best cornerback,” to the Jacksonville Jaguars. This isn’t just any player; Newsome was “balling out” in a contract year, playing at a high level. In return, the Browns received Tyson Campbell, a cornerback who comes with a horrifying statistic: he has allowed the “second most yards of any cornerback in football this season.”

The immediate question from every fan was simple: “Why would we do this?”

The answer has nothing to do with winning football games. The answer, which reveals the true, desperate state of the franchise, is money. This was a “100% salary driven” move. Greg Newsome is in a contract year and is “going to want to get paid.” The Browns, quite simply, were “never going to be able to pay” him.

And why not? “You can thank Deshaun Watson again for this.”

The catastrophic, fully-guaranteed contract given to Deshaun Watson—a man now described as “never playing for us again”—is the anchor dragging the entire franchise to the ocean floor. Every decision, every trade, every cut is now dictated by this one financial mistake. The Browns are in salary cap hell, and the Newsome trade is the latest proof.

Tyson Campbell, despite his struggles on the field, is “cheap.” The Jaguars have already paid most of his salary for this year, and the Browns will only be on the hook for a meager $3 million next year. He is a bargain-bin replacement, a warm body to fill a spot for a couple of years “until you can get out from under the Deshaun Watson contract.”

This move is a cold, hard admission from the front office. It is a white flag. It tells the fans that “winning is not that important,” because the team is actively trading its “second best cornerback for the guy who gives up the second most yards” in the league. This is “not about a talent thing. This is all about a money thing.”

This financial reality loops back to the quarterback “situation” and provides a potential, unspoken motive for Stefanski’s bizarre behavior. A fan theory, rooted in a terrifying reality, has emerged. Dylan Gabriel, the newly minted QB1, is left-handed. His blind side is protected by right tackle Jack Conklin, a reliable veteran. Shedeur Sanders, the presumed right-handed QB2, has his blind side protected by the left tackle.

And what is the state of the Browns’ left tackle position? It is a “complete mess.” It is “in shambles.”

This is the secret Stefanski won’t say aloud. He can’t just name Sanders QB2 because he is terrified of the scenario where Gabriel gets hurt. He doesn’t want to “stick a rookie out there whose blind side is covered by a turn style.” It’s one thing to play “knowledge is power” games in a press conference. It’s another to risk the future of your franchise—a player with far more upside than Gabriel—behind a line that can’t protect him. The hesitation, then, may not just be a power trip; it may be a quiet admission that the offensive line is a disaster.

All of this—the nonsensical trades, the cryptic coach-speak, the “shambles” at a key position—is the poisonous fruit of the Deshaun Watson deal. The man who was supposed to be the savior is now a ghost, making “Uncle Rico videos” and “throwing the football over the mountain” while his contract single-handedly dismantles a competitive roster.

The organization is “stuck” and is desperately “moving to the future.” They are trying to shed salary and get out from under the deal for a player who, as one host confidently stated, “will never ever play for” the Browns again. It is “counterproductive” to even think about him or Bailey Zappy. The team has been there, done that, and “we already know” they stink.

But “the future” is now being compromised. Fans are left to watch their “second best” players get traded for bottom-tier replacements, all while their head coach plays “corporate” games with a rookie who represents the only spark of hope left. It’s a “situation,” all right. It’s an “unflipping real” mess, and the fans are the only ones paying the price.