Josh Gordon

This is the Josh Gordon that Mike Polk Jr. would like to see -- the one who's able to play for the Cleveland Browns as wide receiver. But this picture was taken in 2013. (Joshua Gunter/The Plain Dealer)

It would almost be better if Josh Gordon were addicted to heroin.

Not for him, clearly. But for frustrated Browns fans like myself who are having a difficult time finding closure regarding his situation? Yes.

Heroin is a legitimately-horrifying, wreck-your-life type of drug. If Gordon were having a hard time avoiding heroin, I could process the trajectory of his life without much difficulty.

His current situation is so much more embarrassing. We're all being deprived of watching the most exciting Cleveland Brown in recent history. And the reason for his suspension from football is that he can't resist a substance so mild that its most harmful documented effect is making it seem like a great idea to buy a $5 Little Caesar's Hot-N-Ready Pizza, and eat it.

Josh Gordon has repeatedly tested positive for a drug considered so tame, so not-life-wrecking, that in some states it can be legally purchased in the form of edible Goldfish crackers.

Many people assume that Gordon has played his last down as a Cleveland Brown. The consensus seems to be that the Browns should just cut him and be done with it.

I disagree.

While under suspension, Gordon's contract does not count towards the team payroll. And unless he plays more than 4 games this season, the Browns continue to hold his contract rights for the following year.

So what is the point of cutting him? And why should we reward him? Why should we let him escape from this terrible organization and go to a real team, while we're all stuck with the Browns?

I suggest that we spitefully trap Josh Gordon in Cleveland.

Keep him under contract. If he quickly grows up and gets clean, you have one of the best natural receivers in the NFL.

If he doesn't, he gets suspended again and we maintain his rights until 2018. Then we do it again, for as long as it takes, until he shapes up or has been robbed of his youth, too enfeebled to play sports at a professional level. Then we cut him.

I recognize that to suggest this idea is petty and shameful. Fortunately cheering for this team for so many years has rendered me incapable of feeling shame.

Also, assume that we do cut Josh. What happens next? True Browns fans already know.

Gordon arrived in Cleveland in 2012. He's had four different head coaches and five different offensive coordinators. The front office has been in constant transition. The team has gone 19-45.

If we cut him, he will go somewhere better. Once distanced from the deranged tire fire that is the Browns organization, he will shine.

And, of course, fulfilling the Universe's vile plans for us, Gordon will go to Pittsburgh or Baltimore. There, for the foreseeable future, he'll torch us twice a season.

I just can't watch that.

Some of my fellow Browns fans might hesitate to adopt my plan to #TrapJoshGordon, because it is both crazy and chillingly cruel.

That's very decent of you. But allow me to offer one quick fact in rebuttal: The Browns' number one receiver is Brian Hartline. I believe that even Brian Hartline would acknowledge that that is not a good thing.

To determine the viability of my #TrapJoshGordon proposal, I consulted cleveland.com Browns reporter Tom Reed. His response was swift, and saddening:

"Roster purgatory -- quite a concept. To be honest, I don't think the Browns can hang on to him beyond his signed contract because he remains in limbo with the league.... Shame is, Gordon may be the most talented player here since Jim (appropriate expletive) Brown."

Tom's right. Trapping Josh Gordon in Cleveland for decades is unethical and, even worse, not doable.

But that doesn't stop me from fantasizing:

The year is 2031. Forty-year-old Josh Gordon sits on a couch in a basement in Berea, where The Browns have stored him for the past 15 years. He stares emotionlessly at a large flat-screen monitor as Phil Dawson, age 56, laces a perfect field goal through the uprights, pushing Cleveland past Baltimore in a thrilling overtime win.

JOSH

"Ya know, some times I wish I'd have just stayed clean and not squandered my God-given gifts."

His lament rouses a 275-pound, handlebar-mustached man snoring next to him on the sofa.

JOHNNY

"You say somethin' Bro?"

Josh pauses, then reaches for the three-foot bong on the coffee table.

JOSH

"Nah. I didn't say anything, Johnny. Go back to sleep."

(end of scene)