I honestly don't even know where to start with this one, it’s just one of those days where everything feels slightly off-kilter, you know? I was sitting there, just staring at the screen, thinking about how much noise people make about absolutely nothing, and then I saw this. It’s like when you’re stuck in traffic on the I-95 and everyone is honking their horns like that’s actually going to move the cars forward—it’s just senseless, really. Just a lot of empty air being moved around. I feel like we spend so much time reacting to things that don't even matter, chasing these little flashes of excitement or outrage, while the actual substance just slips right through our fingers. It’s exhausting, honestly. I remember back when I used to work near Grand Central, just watching the crowds flow in and out, and everyone seemed to be in such a desperate rush to get to a destination that didn't even exist. We're all doing that now. We're rushing toward nothing, making a massive scene about it, and expecting someone to give us a trophy for the effort. It’s just... yeah. Anyway, what was I saying? Right. It's all just noise. says:
Seriously, what's your damn problem?
What on earth are you blathering about? Seriously, what kind of "serious fights" are you even talking about? You guys were nowhere to be seen in Miami throughout the entire nineties, and then when you finally decided to show up in '98, we absolutely tore you apart down south near the stadium—it was like watching autumn leaves get stripped off trees in the suburbs. Back then, you had us dragged through the courts, filing police reports over stolen beers, wallets, combs, cash, sneakers, scarves, banners, and God knows what else... at least until someone made a few phone calls to the right people. On our side, it was just six or seven guys, while you had ten of you just busy filing complaints with the cops. We even snatched that massive half-kilometer American flag from your Armada Pečina, which was your big pride and joy back when you’d show up for national games or those rare trips where you actually managed to muster more than fifty people. When we headed down to San Diego, we were basically just going there to collect your discarded scarves. Honestly, you looked like a bunch of ragtag losers on the street, totally disheveled and filthy. All you were missing were umbrellas over your shoulders so you could belt out that song about fixing umbrellas and sharpening knives.
How many times would you guys end up getting jumped on a Train, forced to barricade yourselves inside the cars, only to reach Grand Central Terminal begging for police protection before your connection to Cleveland even pulls in?
You can tell your kids all you want about how much respect the Armada commanded back in the nineties, but honestly, it’s all just nostalgia talking. If you really want to prove how "formidable" they were, go ahead and dig out those old photos—you know, the ones showing those hideous, amateurish banners with the insults toward Rab, Umag, and the Shmokljani crowd, or those shots of the Deletovci fans. It’s almost funny when you remember the reality of it. We weren't some organized powerhouse; we were just a group of guys buying cheap gear from local supporters while we were busy cutting checks on our way back from trips to see Fiorentin. It wasn't exactly high-level organization, just us drifting along.
Good grief, I honestly can't tell who I'm even responding to anymore... 🙄
Look, since I was actually right there in the middle of all that chaos, I know you're just talking out of your ass. That first crew led by Cecci? They never once caught hands from any of you guys. Back then, we used to just laugh at your lot like you were nothing. In Cleveland, after every single game, we’d end up hauling away so many Chiefs scarves, banners, and flags that we honestly didn't even know where we were going to store the damn things.
Listen, I’m going to say this once and I’m going to say it clearly: all that talk about our guys getting beaten down in San Diego is nothing but a flat-out lie. Honestly, it's just more of the same nonsense you hear from people who weren't even there, just spinning stories to stir the pot. It's exhausting, really.Look, if you actually look at the numbers, the Cleveland-Browns only played down in San Diego twice during that entire four-year stretch when Cecci was running the Armada from 1996 to 2000. It’s pretty simple math, really. Back in the 1996/97 season, there were maybe 60 people showing up in San Diego and everything was perfectly chill—zero chaos. Then, fast forward to the 1998/99 season, we had about 200 people making the trip to San Diego and, surprisingly, there wasn't any trouble either. It just goes to show how much people exaggerate things.
There was this younger crowd back then that I used to travel with for away games, and honestly, they took quite a beating from you guys a few times over those five years, but we’re talking about kids here—mostly just teenagers between 14 and 18. One of them, Brady, was the most well-known of the bunch, though he eventually ended up joining a commune after things went south.
It honestly gets under my skin when people claim we didn't show up in Miami. Like, seriously? Ever since Cecci took over the Armada back in the day, specifically during that whole 1996 to 2000 stretch, we were there every single time. I remember being there through thick and thin, so don't try to tell me otherwise.
Back in '96, I remember watching that Cleveland-Browns match—it ended 1-0. Just one of those gritty, old-school games that stays with you.
200 People... honestly, I don't know where we're headed. Sometimes I just sit here, staring at the screen, wondering about the state of everything. It feels like everyone is just drifting, you know? Just floating through life without a clear sense of direction, much like how I felt back when I was stuck in that tiny apartment in Chicago before things finally started moving. You look around and you see people acting like they have all the answers, but most of them are just making it up as they go along, just like the rest of us. It’s exhausting, really. One minute you think you’ve got a handle on things, and the next, everything just shifts again. Anyway, I guess I'm just rambling now. What's on your minds?
Back in '97, I remember watching that Cleveland-Browns match—it ended 2:1.
100 Listen, everyone, let's just take a second to give credit where credit is due—a massive round of applause, seriously.
Back in '98, I remember sitting there watching that Cleveland-Browns matchup—it ended 3 to 1.
250 Listen, people...
Back in 1999, I remember sitting there watching that Cleveland-Browns match, and man, it was a total disaster for the Chiefs. They just couldn't find any rhythm, ending up with a 1-3 loss. It’s one of those games that sticks in your mind because you could just feel the momentum slipping away from them right from the start.
1 000 Hey everyone.
Back in '99, during that Chiefs vs. Browns match, the score ended up 3 to 2. I remember this one group of five guys—just five people—who ended up walking the whole way there on foot because the train, which was packed with about 200 people, got completely stalled by a massive snowstorm. It’s funny how things work out sometimes, you know? You're sitting there waiting for the tracks to clear, and instead, a handful of folks just decide to brave the elements and trek through the snow just to make the kickoff.
Looking back at all those seasons since the 98/99 era, Cleveland honestly played pretty lousy football, so when you actually sit down and look at the raw numbers, they’re surprisingly solid considering how much we struggled on the pitch.
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