In Cleveland, football is a religion, and loyalty is its sacred text. Fans of the Browns are forged in disappointment, yet they return every Sunday with a hope that defies logic. This week, that loyalty was repaid with a cold, hard, financial calculation. The organization, in a series of moves that reek of desperation and dysfunction, sent a clear, heartbreaking message to its fanbase: “Winning is not that important.”

The betrayal came in the form of a trade that, on its surface, is football malpractice. The Browns, a team ostensibly trying to compete, traded Greg Newsome, their “second-best cornerback,” who was “balling out” in a contract year. In return, they received Tyson Campbell from the Jacksonville Jaguars, a player who carries the horrifying distinction of having “allowed the second most yards of any cornerback in football this season.”

It is a trade that makes the team demonstrably worse. And the reason, as insiders have confirmed, is the ugliest in sports: money.

This was a “100% salary driven” move. Newsome, with his high-level play, is about to get paid, and the Browns “were never going to be able to pay him.” The organization, trapped in a financial prison of its own making, had to proactively dump a star player for a “cheap” replacement who is locked into a manageable $3 million contract for next year. This isn’t team-building. This is a fire sale.

And at the center of this financial inferno is the ghost of a quarterback who will “never play for us again”: Deshaun Watson.

The catastrophic, fully guaranteed Watson contract, signed in a moment of franchise-altering hubris, is now the anchor dragging the entire roster to the bottom of the lake. “You can thank Deshaun Watson again for this,” has become the cynical, painful refrain for every move that prioritizes the balance sheet over the scoreboard. Watson, who is reportedly making “Uncle Rico videos” of himself throwing a football “over the mountain,” has single-handedly dismantled the team’s future from afar. His contract is forcing the Browns to get out from under other deals, to get “contracts we don’t have to pay,” and to publicly admit that saving money is now the number one priority. Winning is a luxury they can no longer afford.

This organizational rot, starting with the front office’s financial “shambles,” has now infected the entire coaching staff, leading to a second, utterly baffling “situation” that has fans justifiably “pissed off.”

With backup quarterback Joe Flacco traded, the depth chart was, for a moment, crystal clear. Dylan Gabriel, the left-handed rookie, is QB1. Shedeur Sanders, the right-handed rookie with immense upside, is the logical QB2. It’s simple. It’s done.

But not in Cleveland. Head Coach Kevin Stefanski, when asked to confirm this simple fact, created a crisis out of thin air. “We’ll let the week play out and and then I’ll decide,” Stefanski declared, refusing to name Sanders his backup.

Why? Why play these “unflipping real” games? The initial analysis points to a “corporate move,” a bizarre, alpha-dog display where the coach proves that “knowledge is power.” In this theory, Stefanski is a man who “will tell you when he’s good and ready” and refuses to be pressured by the media or the fans into making a decision. It’s a power trip that serves no one but his own ego, all while destabilizing his rookie quarterbacks.

But beneath this petty, corporate game, a far more terrifying, practical reason has been whispered. The “situation” Stefanski has created may be a cover for a fatal flaw he doesn’t dare admit publicly: the offensive line is a “complete mess.”

Gabriel, as a lefty, has his blind side protected by the reliable Jack Conklin at right tackle. But Sanders, as a righty, would have his blind side “protected” by the left tackle position, which is reportedly “in shambles.” Stefanski isn’t just playing games; he’s terrified. He knows he “can’t stick a rookie out there whose blind side is covered by a turn style.” He can’t risk getting his potential franchise quarterback (who is not his hand-picked guy) annihilated, so he manufactures a “competition” with Bailey Zappy—a player who has already “stunk for us”—to delay the inevitable.

This is the true state of the Cleveland Browns. They are a team so financially broken by one man’s contract that they must trade star players for liabilities. And they are a team so logistically broken on the field that their coach must invent bizarre, public-facing power games to hide the fact that the offensive line is a “turn style” that could get his rookie quarterback crippled.

The trade of Greg Newsome was a white flag. It was a cold admission that the team is “stuck” and “not about winning,” but about “saving money.” And Stefanski’s ridiculous quarterback “situation” is the pathetic, predictable fallout. It’s all one giant, interconnected “mess.” The fans, who have given this team everything, are left with nothing but the truth: their loyalty is being repaid with dysfunction, excuses, and the heartbreaking realization that their team has, for now, officially given up.