When the Cleveland Browns honor Clay Matthews at halftime of Sunday night’s game against the Los Angeles Rams, it figures there will be some onion slicing going on. Matthews is a hero to Browns fans of a certain age, a durable warrior who epitomized what “playing football” meant. Seeing him inducted into the Ring of Honor at FirstEnergy Stadium will be a very special moment for men of that certain age.
I should know. I’m one of those of that age.
Growing up in the late 70s and then the 80s as a Cleveland kid, Matthews was the pinnacle. We used to fight over who got to wear his iconic No. 57 in youth sports. Not just in football, but every sport. The hair protruding from the bottom of the helmet, the smile when he made a play, the relentless effort at every single detail of every play, it was the example of what it meant to be both terribly cool and great at a sport we all dreamt of playing.
Matthews might have been a Southern California guy, but as a player he was all Cleveland. He did all of the little things that make good players great and maximized his ability for well over a decade. Consistency, hard work and respect for the game. Those are the values I learned from watching Clay Matthews play, and I know I’m not the only one.
In the 1990s, I worked in the auto finance industry. When I got my client list and saw “Clay Matthews Pontiac” on the sheet, my heart fluttered. Would he be there? Could I get a chance to meet him? Every time I pulled into that dealership out in Euclid, I would secretly hope he’d be there. I was that scrawny kid from Vermilion fighting for the honor of wearing No. 57 all over again.
Now that No. 57 will be proudly enshrined in the Ring of Honor. Hopefully it will hang on display in Canton soon, too. Thanks for the memories, Clay!
