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The late Art Modell may have made many Clevelanders angry, Mike Polk Jr. says, but even he lacked the power to truly ruin their lives. (Plain Dealer file by Bill Kennedy, 1990)

"Just finished #Believeland. Now I'm gonna watch "Schindler's List" & a video of my ex slow-dancing at her wedding then I'm calling it a night."

That was my Twitter response to the ESPN 30 for 30 that aired this past week. In truth, it did not depress me. But I've never been one to ignore low-hanging fruit, and no fruit hangs so close to the ground as modern Cleveland sports.

Here, then, are random thoughts I jotted down while watching "Believeland":

Yuh oh. The film begins with that song from Major League. I began crying before Randy Newman even started singing. This doesn't bode well.

At the end of Bob Golic's interview they should have cut to a wide shot revealing that he's surrounded by the entire cast of "Saved By The Bell The College Years". That's a real missed opportunity there.

The two people willing to go on camera to defend Art Modell's actions are his son and his business partner. Jimmy Dimora must have turned them down for fear of tarnishing his reputation.

Modell's son David does the entire interview with a framed portrait of Art glaring at him menacingly from the background. Definitely nothing weird about that.

As a testament to what must have been a warm relationship he repeatedly refers to his father as "Art". This is weird but not nearly as weird as his bizarre attempts at rationalizing his Dad's actions. He stopped just short of placing some blame on The Illuminati and the Vernal Equinox.

Ted Stepien might be the only person who is happy to see Art Modell in this film, because his earnest incompetence seems almost charming compared to Modell's chicanery.

By my account Charlie Nagy was on screen just twice and he swore both times. I really want to hang out with that guy.

Craig Ehlo somehow looks like a really old little boy.

There is more soft, sad piano music in this ESPN special than there is in the Bette Midler movie "Beaches".

Vexed by the distinct lack of Bernie Kosar in this production. His absence is glaring and off-putting. Feels like "Speed 2: Cruise Control". Just not the same magic without Keanu. (In this convoluted metaphor Kosar is Keanu Reeves, but in a good way.)

Tearful Earnest Byner reveals that following the infamous "Fumble" he received a letter from a grief-stricken man claiming that the play had ruined his life. That's sad, but if your life can be ruined so easily by something you saw on TV, then it just as easily could have been destroyed by a broken garbage disposal.

Overall, the film was nostalgic and fun. There were some glaring historical omissions, but in fairness there's such a bumper crop of tragedy from which to select, there simply wasn't time to touch on everything.

ESPN loves the tragedy of Cleveland sports fandom because tragedy sells.

They arranged LeBron's ill-fated "Decision" special and broadcast our public shaming to tens of millions of basic cable consumers. They ran ads for light beer and pickup trucks and profited from our pain. And in Believeland, ESPN portrays Clevelanders as unanimously sports-obsessed and woeful.

They would have you believe that the only way we will ever find validation and happiness in our desolate lives is if a group of rich athletes from our city outperforms rich athletes from every other city in one of the three major sports.

This is utter nonsense.

I love sports. They're a fun distraction. They have the potential to be an economic lift and a source of civic pride. But to suggest that they play the dominant role in our identity as a city is ludicrous.

If one of our teams wins a championship, that would be great. If not, it's not the end of the world. There's plenty to do around here beyond spectator sports.

I might roll over to Blossom to hear our ridiculously-good orchestra, or head down to Playhouse square to catch an awesome production. Or wander through the Metroparks, or hang out with friends at my home, where the mortgage payment is about what a Chicagoan pays to park a car for a month.

There are so many great things about this city, and I prefer that the outside world remains ignorant of them.

Cleveland is like a really good dive bar with cheap drinks, great music and cool people. The fastest way to ruin a good dive bar is to tell everyone about how cool it is. The next thing you know, they jack up the drink prices, fill the Jukebox with Top 40, and deny you a seat because the place is packed with hipsters.

So thanks, ESPN. Keep playing that sad music. Please don't let on that we're happy here.