The air in Cleveland is thick with more than just the looming chill of winter; it’s choked with frustration, disbelief, and the unmistakable scent of panic. The Cleveland Browns are not just losing; they are collapsing in spectacular fashion, and the fallout from their latest humiliation—a loss to the New York Jets—has reportedly ignited a civil war within the organization. The central figure in this storm is rookie quarterback Dylan Gabriel, who, after just five starts, is already facing questions about his job. Not from fans, not from analysts, but from his own teammates and, most critically, from powerful figures behind the scenes.

The whispers have become screams. And now, according to explosive new reports, a former Browns CEO with “serious pull” is making calls and forcing the hand of head coach Kevin Stefanski, demanding one thing: bench Gabriel and bring in Shedeur Sanders.

To understand the severity of this internal power play, one must first understand the anatomy of the disaster that prompted it. This wasn’t just a loss; it was a surrender. The Jets, a team struggling to find any offensive identity, beat the Browns while accumulating a pathetic 169 total yards. Their passing game was nonexistent, finishing with a laughably low 42 yards. A professional football team, in 2025, lost to an opponent that couldn’t even crack 50 yards through the air.

How does this happen? All eyes turn to the quarterback. Gabriel’s stat line was a portrait of futility: 17 completions on 32 attempts, a meager 167 yards, and six brutal sacks. He looked, as one analyst put it, “mystified”. The game hasn’t slowed down for him; if anything, it seems to be speeding up, leaving him panicked and unable to see the field. This ineptitude has consequences that ripple through the entire locker room. Star defensive end Myles Garrett wasn’t just upset about the loss; he was reportedly incensed that his own dominant, five-sack performance didn’t matter. When your best players feel their efforts are being wasted, you have a massive problem.

This crisis of confidence was on full display in Gabriel’s post-game press conference. It was an uncomfortable, telling performance. When asked directly if he finds himself looking over his shoulder for Shedeur Sanders, Gabriel’s face told the story before his words did. “All I can do is control what I can,” he mumbled, a response devoid of fire, passion, or the conviction of a franchise leader. It was, as one observer noted, “acceptance”.

He wasn’t fighting; he was surviving. When pressed on the six sacks, his answer was a hollow “Yeah, I don’t want to take those”. Instead of accountability, he offered “corporate buzzwords” about “flow” and “rhythm”. But the most revealing moment came when he was asked about continuity. “You don’t want to plant a seed and then rip it up before it can even grow,” Gabriel said. This wasn’t the statement of a confident quarterback. It was a plea. It was the sound of a man who knows the organization is holding a spade, wondering if he’s the weed.

He has good reason to be worried. The “ex-Browns CEO” is not just a disgruntled voice; this is described as someone with deep ties and influence who is actively lobbying current ownership. This figure is reportedly furious, holding meetings and showing comparison film of Gabriel’s struggles against Shedeur Sanders’ college highlights. The message is crystal clear: Dylan Gabriel is not the answer, and continuing to play him is organizational malpractice.

The argument from this “old guard” figure is twofold. First, it’s about winning. Gabriel, they argue, was always a “bridge quarterback”, a placeholder. But he’s failing even at that; he is “actively losing games”. The time for patience is over. The ex-CEO’s reported words are a damning indictment: “We’re not rebuilding to be mediocre. We’re rebuilding to be champions, and champions don’t settle for quarterbacks who can’t beat the Jets”.

Second, this is about business. This is about the “excitement” that Sanders, a pop-culture figure with a massive built-in fanbase, would bring. He represents ticket sales, merchandise, and a return to “must-watch TV”. He represents hope, something Gabriel’s deer-in-the-headlights performances have systematically extinguished.

This power play puts coach Kevin Stefanski in an impossible position. Publicly, he has backed his rookie, stating unequivocally, “I’m going to stick with Dylan Gabriel”. But behind closed doors, he is reportedly facing immense pressure. For Stefanski, this is a political minefield. To bench Gabriel now, the quarterback he presumably signed off on, is to admit a massive failure in evaluation. It’s an admission that his system can’t develop quarterbacks. For a coach with a 2-7 record, sitting squarely on the hot seat, such an admission could be a career-ender in Cleveland.

This has created a “massive disagreement”, a “power struggle” between Stefanski’s desire for stability (and self-preservation) and the ex-CEO’s faction demanding a bold, immediate change. The narrator of the video even accuses Stefanski of actively working against Sanders, claiming he “has gotten to put him down” and has refused to give him a legitimate “opportunity to compete”.

Into this vacuum steps the idea of Shedeur Sanders. He is being positioned as the antithesis of Gabriel in every way. Where Gabriel folds, Sanders steps up. Where Gabriel is confused, Sanders possesses a “football IQ [that] is off the charts”. He is a “competitor through and through” who “demands better” and has the “clutch gene” that Gabriel so clearly lacks.

The argument is that Sanders, even at Colorado, has proven he can do “more with less”, making NFL-level throws and leading comebacks while surrounded by inferior talent. Gabriel, by contrast, has NFL weapons and is putting up “high school numbers”. Sanders, the argument goes, wouldn’t just be an upgrade; he would be a “transformation” for the franchise. He has the “superstar potential” to command respect the moment he steps in the building.

The Browns are at a crossroads, and a decision has been forced upon them. Do they stick with their struggling rookie, an act of “stubbornness” that risks losing the locker room and the rest of the season? Or do they “cut their losses”, listen to the powerful voices from their past, and make a seismic shift by anointing Shedeur Sanders?

This is no longer just about football. It’s about power, politics, and the future of a franchise. The Jets game was the final straw. Dylan Gabriel’s time is running out. The question is no longer if a change is coming, but when—and how messy the fallout will be.