Never mind the bollocks, here's the Cleveland Browns

Something feels really weird about the build-up to the 2008 NFL season. It's aloof, it's awkward, it's noticeably unfamiliar. There's something missing, as if the regular season is a teacher waiting for the last kid to leave the jungle gym at recess before class resumes.

Thursday's preseason opener was a perfect example. Green Bay of Pigs was over, and Brett Favre joined his new teammates in Cleveland a couple hours before the Jets played the Browns. The circus was in full swing, with national publications optioning Northeast Ohio content to supplement their coverage and SportsCenter cutting to live shots of the media room at Cleveland Browns Stadium, where Favre would speak publicly. It was resoundingly clear that the Browns were not the story that night.

That's OK. They haven't been the story at all lately.

The grace period following our 1999 return ended in 2002 when Butch Davis took the boys to the playoffs. From then on, there was no more room for Chris Palmer-isms like "growing process." Soon enough, Butch proved to be as good at identifying NFL talent as Travis Henry is at failing paternity tests, and he resigned accordingly.

When "rookie mistakes" become "franchise flesh wounds"

The first two and a half years with Romeo Crennel were similarly volatile. LeCharles Bentley couldn't stay healthy, Kellen Winslow couldn't grow up, John Collins couldn't get along with Phil Savage, and most importantly, the team couldn't win.

That all changed in 2007, when Romeo and the gang pulled 10 wins out of a hat and restored excitement to Browns football. After two savvy offseason trades landed two legit defensive linemen, we inked a lightning-fast receiver and dove headfirst into trade talks for a certain disgruntled cornerback. Regardless of what you think about that last item...

(Seriously, just mail us the AFC North title right now)

...we were making headlines for the right reasons.

Which is weird.

Aren't we the assclowns that have to flip a coin to decide our starting quarterback? Don't we pick first-rounders like Larry King picks wives? Where's the bollocks?


Never mind the bollocks, here's the Cleveland Browns.

I swiped that sentence from the Sex Pistols' only studio album, because my brain has inexplicably provided me with a comparison and a contrast between the band and the Browns' offseason.

The Sex Pistols were the ones who really lit the punk movement on fire. While the Ramones were wearing raggy clothes and chilling out, the Sex Pistols were wearing shirts that said "I Hate Pink Floyd" and calling for anarchy in England. They weren't about the glamorous side of rock. The Sex Pistols were a voice for the underprivileged, the blue-collar Brits who had grown tired of David Bowie's androgynous antics.

The Browns have been the same way all offseason. People want to ask Romeo Crennel about the team's lofty expectations, and all they'll get is a reminder that the Browns didn't make the playoffs last season. If you ask Derek Anderson how pretty the offense is going to be in 2008, he'll tell you it doesn't matter as long it's effective. Kamerion Wimbley won't buy into the hype of an "improved" defense, not until he sees results on the field.

If you look across the division, the Steelers are crossing their fingers about Big Snack's fitness, scrambling to plug holes on the o-line, grimacing over Charlie Batch's injury and lecturing Anthony Smith on his practice tactics. The Ravens are still searching for a quarterback, addressing age on defense and adjusting to John Harbaugh's concentraining camp. The Bengals just got done bickering with another high draft pick and dealing with Chad Johnson's sideshow.

Compared to all that, the Browns are downright stable. Winslow and God-like special teamer Josh Cribbs refuse to let their contract situations be detrimental. Brady Quinn knows the quarterback job isn't his, but spends as much time working as anyone. Cornerbacks Eric Wright and Brandon McDonald fully acknowledge they're the team's weakest link. Defensive tackle Corey Williams barely even speaks to the media.

These Browns don't buy into the bullshit.

You know, bullshit like Sid Vicious, who joined the Sex Pistols in early 1977 with the exact attitude of the band and zero skill on bass guitar. He was there for image purposes only, and his self-destructive tendencies contributed heavily to the premature downfall of the group.

All I'm saying is I've never seen Sid Vicious and Albert Belle in the same place at the same time

There are no Sid Vicious players among these Browns. Nobody's pulling a paycheck to flaunt the uniform. Nobody's strutting around and bringing us down. Everybody's here for a reason, and everyone has a specific job to do.

That's the mindset the Browns have taken. Punchlines for so long, the Browns have now become the cool kids' Super Bowl pick. Those expectations might be overly ambitious, but you know what? Champions start with the work, accountability and perspective these Browns have had in the offseason.

Honestly, it's as refreshing as it is strange. I'm waiting for Joe Thomas to capsize his fishing boat or Sean Jones to slam a bottle into someone's head at the Velvet Tango Room. It doesn't look like it's going to happen, though, which means we could be in for a fun year.

And the past bollocks? Psh, forget it.