The real Baker Mayfield

Before starting, let's get one thing perfectly straight: The Baker Mayfield we all see Sunday against the Browns in the regular-season opener down in North Carolina in absolutely no way will resemble the Baker Mayfield we all saw the majority of last season.

He will resemble the quarterback who led Cleveland to its first appearance in the National Football League's postseason in nearly two decades. He will resemble the riverboat gambler/gunslinger/swashbuckler who captured the imagination of -- and was beloved by -- the fans.

He was the franchise quarterback this team longed for since being reborn in 1999. He was the face of that franchise. National television commercials. A national presence. He was The Man and enjoying every moment.

Until one unfortunate incident in game two last season that turned what had been a season that began with exciting thoughts of a Super bowl into a nightmare. 

Mayfield, who initially injured the shoulder trying to make a tackle after throwing an interception, absorbed a vast majority of the blame after that with performances that were antithetical to what fans had witnessed in his first three seasons. That's when he was -- wait for it -- healthy. 

The real blame should have been distributed between the Browns' medical staff, which allowed Mayfield to play with a shredded labrum in his left shoulder and other minor injuries, and management, which should have known better and shut him down.

As long as he wasn't dead, it seemed, no reason to sit him. He was a half cripple (football style) who was sent out to play a collision sport and was a dismal failure statistically. 

He had no business going out there playing with a harness to protect the bad shoulder. It was so obvious he was not the same quarterback for the remainder of the season. He seemed to concentrate on not getting injured more seriously than on executing plays.

Mayfield's normal high confidence level cratered. To boot, head coach Kevin Stefanski, probably figuring the medical staff greenlighted Mayfield, game-planned to throw the ball more instead of relying on his terrific ground game.

The offensive line, which would much prefer run blocking than the more tiring pass blocking, wore down. The sacks and losses mounted. Nerves frayed. Mayfield on a couple occasions broke a cardinal rule and publicly (correctly) criticized his head coach's playcalling after games.  

Not once, though, did he use his numerous injuries as an excuse for his feeble performances. That was the testosterone taking over. His teammates admired the courage he showed to soldier on. It became worse with each game until he finally chucked it in after being sacked an embarrassing nine times by Pittsburgh in the penultimate game.

By then, as it was later revealed during the signing of Deshaun Watson, the Browns' (sarcasm alert) brilliant (end sarcasm alert) ownership had quietly decided to move on from Mayfield. And then the acrimony commenced when the Browns actively pursued Watson.

Now here we are, mere days before Mayfield's so-called revenge game that will be overhyped because that's what the media does in situations like this. He's a veteran of situations like this.

There's the Ohio State revenge while at Oklahoma; the Texas Tech revenge; and lest we forget the Hue Jackson revenge after the ex-Browns coach joined division rival Cincinnati shortly after being fired in midseason.

Sunday, we'll see a (reportedly) perfectly healthy Mayfield commanding the huddle for the Panthers. He admits this game will be extra special for him rather than hide behind some phony reason it's just another game that no one would believe to begin with.

He entered training camp a couple of months ago with the knowledge he and Sam Darnold would battle for the starting job, Panthers coach Matt Rhule just going through the coaching motions. Of course he won it. He is, by far, the better quarterback. 

Browns fans might not recognize him Sunday.