Matt Freed, Post-Gazette The Browns didn't get much sympathy from their fans after being blown out by the Steelers, 41-0. Click photo for larger image

By Chico Harlan
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette

CLEVELAND -- While Romeo Crennel issued the shortest postgame news conference of his 15-game coaching career -- it sounded more like a coroner's report than football analysis -- his burly shadow darkened a curtain behind him patterned with two logos. One, the Cleveland Browns' football helmet. Two, the Cleveland Clinic hospital.

After a 41-0 loss to the Steelers in which Cleveland effectively buried itself under six feet of soil, the two institutions formed a fitting union. Cleveland's 5-10 football team, for 60 minutes yesterday afternoon, retreated to a level of lifelessness that prompted its players to wonder how in the name of modern miracles things might be able to improve.

	Peter Diana, Post-Gazette Browns quarterback Charlie Frye is sacked for a 4-yard loss by Steelers linebacker Clark Haggans to kill a third quarter drive. Click photo for larger image.

"I'll make it pretty plain and simple," said Crennel, previously the orchestrator of the New England Patriots' defense. "We really didn't do anything right. We got beaten across the board. ... Overall, there was too much bad. You saw the game."

Or, more accurately, most of the 73,136 at Cleveland Browns Stadium saw a fraction of the game and left with heads down, wondering what had happened to a team that fumbled five times, allowed eight sacks and averaged only 2.7 yards per play. Odd thing was, the Browns entered yesterday with an adequate reputation -- not because of talent, but because of toughness. They had defeated Oakland last week, 9-7, and had fallen by a field goal the previous week against Cincinnati.

And then, against the Steelers, they spun into disaster mode, every red alert flashing, every part malfunctioning. Just look at Cleveland's second possession: Joshua Cribbs lost his grip on the ball during a fumble return. Crennel lost a challenge on second down, and tailback Reuben Droughns lost his concentration on a third-down screen pass, creating an embarrassing drop.

Meanwhile, the deficit increased at a rate usually reserved for large-scale economies. The Browns trailed by seven, then 14, then 17, later 20.

"I definitely think this is the most embarrassing loss of my career," cornerback Daylon McCutcheon said.

In that sentiment, every bright spot was eclipsed by overwhelming darkness. Droughn's 2-yard run early in the second quarter, for instance, demonstrated Cleveland's first sign of adequate blocking in the game. It also tripled the team's yardage. One drive later, the Browns even managed a first down -- they had gone more than 21 minutes without one -- but the resulting frenzy was summarily blanketed by a fumbled handoff, a sack and then another sack.

Then a punt on fourth-and-31.

"They whupped our butts," receiver Antonio Bryant said.

By the time the whipping ended, Cleveland had been hit by a round of indignities. The Browns' defense had parted, almost willingly, on Willie Parker's 80-yard, third-quarter touchdown run. Rookie quarterback Charlie Frye, celebrated in previous weeks for his poise, shrunk under the pressure of the Steelers' pass rush. He completed 20 of his 39 passes for 183 yards; he was Trent Dilfer with more hair and less arm strength.

And then there was Bryant, who, after returning to the locker room with four catches and 50 yards, met with the media members who had heard him say earlier than no Steelers cornerback could cover him one-on-one.

"Humble pie, what?" he asked, refusing to back off from his stance. "You make me out to be the bad guy, and they ran a good scheme against our offense, but personally -- personally -- I can separate myself from the team and say, I don't feel they have one man over there that can cover me one-on-one. Go ask [the Steelers] if they covered Antonio Bryant one-on-one. Go ask them."

Bryant, though, continued talking.

"You ever heard of a video game called Tecmo Bowl?" asked the former Pitt star, "There were about eight [offensive] plays in Tecmo Bowl, four runs, four passes. So the other guy could pick your play. He can probably be 70 percent right in picking your play. That's how I felt today. They were guessing all of our plays."

To Bryant's left, in the corner of Cleveland's locker room, a whiteboard from earlier in the afternoon still shined, unerased, with old promise. It detailed, part by part, the Browns' pre-game plan.

And the final words on the board?

"Beat The Steelers!"

Bryant, already envisioning a rematch next season, was asked if his team would be blown out again.

"I could doubt that," he said. "I could really doubt that."