The Browns will win Super Bowl 50.
That's right, it's hours before the opening day kickoff, and I'm putting it on the line, a 150-to-1 underdawg. Mark it down, lay your bets, laugh your head off, whatever.
Sorry, but I'm sick of dilly-dallying through a wilderness of trepidation. Oh, the division's too tough! Oh, but we're still short a key piece or two (or thirty). The schedule is brutal. We just don't know how the youngsters will respond. And, of course, woe is me, we're the Browns, so something especially sucky, while unforeseen in its particulars, is a metaphysical certainty.