The entire week following the tragedy in Cleveland there was a silent lull on ESPN. There was no program. No Sports Center. No highlight reels, best of’s, or 30 for 30.

There was a simple, stagnant message, summed up in one brilliant, blazing icon. It was a ribbon, just like the yellow kind that once adorned every telephone pole in America. This one was yellow.

Yellow and black on one side.

Brown and orange flowing down the other.

All it said was, “Hand in hand, we are neighbors.”

It was the end of the rivalry. Cleveland and Pittsburgh were no longer enemies. This was much easier to achieve now that there were no teams. There wasn’t a single player left from those franchises. And now there was no stadium, and this fact only mended the situation further.

Next season, Greyhound buses would transport every Browns fan the 135 miles to Heinz Field. When Pittsburgh was at home, the Browns would play away. When the Browns played at home, the Steelers would play away. Everyone shared Heinz Field as the City of Cleveland began the extensive process of digging out “The Pothole” as it would be come to be known. The largest pothole in the state.

The two cities walked fearlessly into the future with a new friendship. Sure there were always your Friday night losers who would get too drunk. Start cussing out “that fucking town that got to keep its fans”. Start railing about “the burnt-out team that snatched up the first 12 picks of the draft the following season”.

In the heart of the cities, however, they were finally at peace. No more hotdog throwing food fights before games. No more accusations against their rival’s quarterbacks. Never again did a Steel town brother become a rival. They’d become civilized, and all the rowdy, pre-gaming, testosterone-fueled steel town heroes got their footballs neutered.