The bye-week is gone. The first half of the season is a smoking crater. And now, the grades are in.

In a brutal, soul-baring post-mortem of the Cleveland Browns’ first eight weeks, the consensus is not just that the team is bad. It’s that the organization is fundamentally, systemically, and perhaps irreversibly broken. The report card isn’t just a collection of failing marks; it’s an indictment of a “flawed” ecosystem, a “dated” philosophy, and a front office that has “fumbled the bag” so completely that the only remaining question is how long the owner will tolerate the abuse.

This isn’t just another disappointing season. This is a multi-level organizational collapse, and the grades are the proof.

When a panel of analysts sat down to grade the Browns’ position groups, the mood was less academic and more funereal. “Can we just say F for every position?” one host asked, only half-joking. The highest grade anyone could muster was for the defensive line, a B+, carried almost single-handedly by the Herculean efforts of Miles Garrett.

From there, it’s a terrifying plunge into the abyss. The secondary earned a shaky B-minus. The tight ends, a C. The running backs, a C, with the caveat that star Quinshon Judkins has been “abysmal” the last two games.

And then, the offense.

The offensive line, once the undisputed strength of this franchise, is now a shell of its former self, earning a unanimous F. But the problem isn’t just talent; it’s a total breakdown in strategy. “We’re trying to figure out who’s blocking who,” one analyst confessed after reviewing the All-22 film. “There’s at least once or twice a play where there are multiple guys that are let free… in the backfield.”

The cohesive, dominant scheme of the past is gone, replaced by “confusing” assignments and a sense of chaos. “We sure do miss Bill Callahan,” another host lamented.

As horrific as that is, it’s not the bottom. The quarterback position, a revolving door of rookie struggles and veteran ghosts, is a clear F. But the true, unmitigated disaster—the black hole at the center of this failed offense—is the wide receiver corps.

“It’s an insult to F to call the wide receivers an F,” one panelist declared. “It should be like a Z… the first ever Z.”

The unit is a “hideous” collection of non-production. At the center of this failure is Jerry Judy. After a productive, if drop-prone, previous season, Judy has vanished. His performance has been so shocking that it has forced analysts to ask the one question that is the “lowest thing you can say about a player.”

“I’m asking it as a question,” a host clarified, “has he just given up? … How does a guy go from being a 1400-yard receiver to… this?”

This question of “quitting” hangs over the entire offense. The coaching, led by Kevin Stefanski, has been exposed as “dated.” The offensive concepts—the spot routes, the curl flats, the drive concepts—are “basic,” predictable, and easily smothered by modern defenses. “There are no layups,” one analyst explained. “There aren’t any.”

The scheme is forcing a young, struggling quarterback to execute difficult plays against defenses that know what’s coming. This is a far cry from the days of Odell Beckham Jr. and Jarvis Landry, two “real receivers” who “were making quarterbacks look better because they were catching balls that shouldn’t have been caught.”

Today’s Browns “don’t do that anymore.”

The offensive report card for the Browns’ five position groups is as follows: a C, a D, and three Fs (including one “Z”). This led to a devastating analogy.

“If your kid was struggling in school,” a host posed, “and you hired a tutor… and at the end of one year… here’s his report card: a C, a D, and three Fs. You keeping that tutor?”

The answer, of course, is a resounding no. There would be a conversation, an investigation, and, “in all likelihood,” a firing. This is the damning verdict on Kevin Stefanski, Andrew Berry, and the entire regime. They are the tutors who have been paid a “lot of money,” and they have delivered a generation of failure.

The ineptitude is so complete that it has sparked the “impossible” debate: Is it time to trade Miles Garrett?

The question is agonizing. Garrett is a generational talent, a “freak” who may go down as the greatest pass-rusher the NFL has ever seen. Just last week, he played the “game of a lifetime”—a historic, stat-sheet-stuffing performance of such dominance that it defied belief. And the Browns still got “boat raced by 19 points.”

“What more do you want the guy to do?” a panelist asked in desperation. “He can’t throw the football. He can’t run the football. He’s not on the field half the time.”

Garrett’s superhuman effort proved one, heartbreaking truth: he cannot save this organization from itself. The “ineptitude to put people around him is so great, he’s fighting a losing battle.” This is the same tragic story that befell franchise legend Joe Thomas.

This is why, as crazy as it sounds, trading the team’s best player may be “the best way out.” The logic: This team is not winning with him. Trading him for a haul of picks—perhaps three first-rounders—is the only way to acquire the assets to rebuild.

But that logic immediately crashes into the wall of reality. “I don’t trust the guy,” one host said, referring to GM Andrew Berry. “I would only do it if I knew Andrew Barry’s getting fired because I don’t trust him to get the picks right.”

This is the Cleveland catch-22. The team is so bad it must consider trading its best player, but the front office is so incompetent, they can’t be trusted to spend the assets from that trade.

This front office, this regime, has been compared to “hoarders.”

“I feel like we’re hoarders,” an analyst explained, painting a vivid picture of a franchise clinging to its own trash. “We hold so tightly… It’s some lady with seven cats named Nancy and she keeps collecting magazines and newspapers… ‘I can’t throw this out.’”

When fans and media suggest it’s time to “get a fresh look,” the organization panics. “But who are we going to get? I can’t replace my newspapers!” This is the mentality that has defined the franchise, a paralyzing fear of change that has allowed a seven-year regime to produce one good season and a mountain of “ugly.”

The organization has “fumbled the bag.” When this regime took over, they “were loaded.” They had a top-three offensive line, the “best running back” duo in the league, a young ascending quarterback, a top cornerback, and Miles Garrett in his “super duper prime.” They have squandered it all.

Now, they are reportedly “tanking,” a “loser’s mentality” that is an insult to the fanbase and a poison in the locker room. “Purposeful tanking does not work,” the panel declared. “Losing is the easy part. The hard part is getting those assets… right. And this regime has proven one thing: They can’t get it right.”

This all falls at the feet of the owner, who is described as the “head circus clown,” “PT Barnum,” who is “picking all of these people under him.”

He is “placing a bet” that a fanbase he is actively alienating will pay “record ticket prices” for a new stadium in 2029 “after making us walk over hot coals for another three years.”

It is a bet he is poised to lose. The organization is not just failing; it is “washing out” an entire generation of young fans. In a local little league, only one of 13 kids “really watches the Browns.” When the current panelists were that age, “it would have been every single kid.”

The team is a joke. The front office is a failure. And the ownership is the ringleader. The report card is in, and it’s not just Fs. It’s a complete and total indictment of a franchise that has lost its way, its talent, and its soul.