Matt Wood cannot understand it when Baltimore fans shrug off Cleveland's bitterness toward the late Art Modell.
"It's bewildering to me when Baltimore fans say, 'Big deal, he moved the team,'" said Wood, who writes for the Cleveland Browns fan web site Dawgs by Nature. "It's like dude, you're in bed with our Irsay."
There it is right there. If you grew up in Baltimore and want to know how Cleveland fans felt on Thursday when Modell died, think back to how you felt about the death of Robert Irsay. Did you instantly forgive the man who moved the Colts?
"There's no way to get away from it," Wood said. "He hurt Cleveland fans a lot. He hurt them deep."
It's not that Clevelanders are organizing parties to defile Modell's grave — though there is some of that talk on fan web sites. It's more a sense of sadness, that this man they once appreciated as the face of a cherished institution will forever be associated with loss.
Modell moved the Browns to Baltimore in 1995, saying it was the only sound financial choice he could make for his team and family. But Clevelanders have never believed that. He could've accepted a renovated stadium over a brand new one, they say, or he could have sold the team to another local family. No explanation, really, could ever have soothed the aggrieved.
"Cleveland is a lot like Baltimore, so you know, it was like you stole their child away," said retired kicker Matt Stover, who made the move to Baltimore with the team. "If you steal someone's child away, nothing else matters. They're going to come out kicking and screaming."
Stover said he always believed Modell knew his relationship with Cleveland would never be mended.
"It was excruciatingly painful for him," he said. "He knew how many people it was going to affect."
Modell's sons, David and John, said they don't dwell on criticisms from Cleveland and added that they've received more than 150 condolence e-mails from the city.
"It doesn't matter because I know my father," David Modell said Friday of the criticism. "An individual can say whatever they want to stay about Art Modell. Many things are said about good people all the time that are untrue or unclear, but I know my father. I just wish more of those who are vilifying him knew him, because they would stop."
The coverage of Modell's death in Cleveland was more melancholy than angry. The headline above his obituary on the front page of Friday's Cleveland Plain-Dealer was measured: "The longtime Browns owner won 1964 title, moved team."
Writers perceived as nemeses offered more warm thoughts than sour.
Tony Grossi, who has covered the Browns for more than two decades, said Modell is deservedly a hero in Baltimore.
"To me, Art was a joy to cover in my years as Browns beat writer," said Grossi, who works for ESPNCleveland. "His showmanship, storytelling and his unfailing humor were golden to any reporter. I appreciated his passion to always strive to bring a winning team to Cleveland and I respected his amazing power to survive so many health and financial obstacles."
Grossi sounded more sad than anything when talking about the way Modell left the city.
"We certainly had our battles over the years, but I always respected him," he said. "Naturally, I regret the way his career ended in Cleveland and all the ramifications of that tragic episode of his fascinating life.
Joe Posnanski, a Cleveland native who writes for the web site Sports on Earth, said Modell was a powerful symbol.
"You knew, as a kid growing up in Cleveland, who owned the Browns," Posnanski said. "He was on TV all the time. There was never a game where they didn't show him."
He remembered a holiday song during the 1980 season that began, "On the first day of Christmas, Art Modell gave to me …"
The owner's position in the city made the sense of betrayal that much deeper, Posnanski said, calling the loss of the Browns easily the worst episode in Cleveland's anguished sports history.
"There was this feeling that Art Modell understood Cleveland, that he knew us," the writer said. "When the talk first started that they might move, it seemed absurd. Art Modell? He had owned the team for 35 years."
The strange twist to this saga of antipathy is that few should be better attuned to Cleveland's feelings than Baltimore football fans.
The name Irsay is still dirt in this town, 28 years after Mayflower vans hauled the Baltimore Colts to Indianapolis and 15 years after the perpetrator, Robert Irsay, died and passed the team to his son, Jim.
The barbs Clevelanders direct at Modell sound so familiar, it's eerie.
In 1998, the first time the Colts returned for a game in Baltimore, some fans wore T-shirts depicting a Raven urinating on Irsay's grave and others directed obscene gestures at Jim Irsay's box.
The next season, when the Ravens visited Cleveland for the first time, the Modells opted not to travel with the team. But outside the stadium, Cleveland fans merrily urged their dogs to defecate on a chalk outline of Art Modell.
Modell's public statements suggested he did not expect to be forgiven. When NBA superstar LeBron James fled Cleveland for Miami in 2010, some wondered if he had supplanted Modell as the city's chief sports villain. But Modell told several media outlets he would remain the most hated.
His departure from Cleveland was not a perfect replica of Irsay's flight from Baltimore. As part of its settlement with the longtime owner, Cleveland got to keep the Browns name and uniforms. The city was without the NFL for three seasons compared to 12 for Baltimore.
None of that dulls the pain, of course. And it hasn't helped that the resurrected Browns have posted only two winning records in 13 seasons. The Ravens have won a Super Bowl and made the playoffs eight times in the same span.
"It was hard to watch him with the Lombardi Trophy," Wood said of Modell. "Not to take out the violin, but that's what happens to us. People leave Cleveland, and then they win."
Wood said he took no joy from Modell's death. But he's not thrilled that the Browns are planning a moment of recognition before their season opener on Sunday or that Modell could one day be enshrined at the Pro Football Hall of Fame in nearby Canton, Ohio.