Maurice Jones-Drew thinks you Clevelanders need to chill.
The running back had no idea he'd woken a sleeping giant -- an angry, betrayed, hungry giant with deep-seated, sports-related angst.
"It's unbelievable," Jones-Drew told The Florida Times-Union this week. "It's a celebration. That's what you do when you score. It's so hard to get in. I remember my first couple years I was getting in like double digits. It's tough to get into the end zone, so when you get in there, you've got to be creative. I'd like to thank Pot Roast (Terrance Knighton) for bringing that up. Without him, none of this would be possible.
"It's just funny that people get so upset about celebration."
We can't be too hard on MJD. Were the young man raised along the shores of Lake Erie, a million years would pass before he pulled that stunt on the city's blue-collar citizenry. He's from Cali. He doesn't know.
If you look up "drought" on Wikipedia, it brings you here, to an article featuring Cleveland pro sports. Second only to San Diego, the city of Cleveland has gone 46 years without a title in any pro sport.
The young -- heck, the middle-aged -- have no memory of Cleveland achieving anything. To the casual man about town, the response is: So what, why get hot-and-bothered about a football player doing LeBron's thing in your end zone? It's a game. It was playful. Move on.
To the Clevelander, there's been too much heartbreak at this point. A half-century of embarrassment. None of it brushed off.
You can look in from the outside and suggest everyone relax, but after Red Right 88, The Drive, The Fumble, The Betrayal -- and this -- and this -- and this -- and this -- it's a city that's, understandably, on edge.