When the subject of Brownses rookie minicamp, such as the one being held this weekend in Berea, comes up as it always does at this time of year, I think of three large people, two mad people, a small person and three offensive tackles.

Let’s go in chronological order:

*1993 — The beat writers were standing in the locker room at team headquarters in Berea as the rookie free agents walked through in a straight line, right on the heels of one another, as if they were marching in a battalion. They were all shapes and sizes, the nameless, faceless many. None of us had any idea who they were, just as they had no idea who we were. But that all changed as the biggest human being I have ever seen — still, to this day — lumbered past. That was a lot of lumber, two or three sequoias at least. Another writer looked at me and said, “What was that?” Not who, mind you, but what. He was offensive tackle Orlando “Zeus” Brown from the Historical Black College of South Carolina State. He was 6-foot-7 and, according to our estimation, about 385 pounds — in the morning, when a person is the lightest at any point of the day. Any time after that, he was 390 or more probably pushing four bills. With shoulders a mile wide, he looked like a 747. There was no weight room at SCSU, so Brown had never pumped iron in his life. Browns head coach Bill Belichick made up some kind of injury for him and stashed him onto the injured reserve list for the season so they put him on a strength and conditioning program to take off a lot of pounds and get him into shape. He started the next two seasons, 1994 and ‘95, at right tackle, being listed at 350 pounds. That was being kind. He was at least 360 to 365.

Zeus is one of my most favorite Browns of all-time, extremely kind and considerate while at the same time incredibly funny. Here are two good stories about him: Early in that 1993 rookie minicamp, Belichick was asked by a reporter if Brown was bigger than the 6-4, 325-pound Herman Arvie, an offensive tackle from Grambling who the Browns had drafted in the fifth round that year. Belichick smiled about as often as he welcomed questions about injuries, which was next to never. But he smiled this time, if only ever so slightly, as he said, “You can put Herman Arvie inside of Orlando Brown.” OK, then! Can we take that as a yes?

Another time — and this was in the 1994 season — Brown talked about his experience that year in his first-ever game against the Pittsburgh Steelers. “In the week leading up to the game, all the veterans were coming up to me and saying, ‘This is a big rivalry. It’s totally different than any of the other games. You’ve got to make sure that you’ve got your chinstrap buckled.’ And I’m like, ‘Yeah, man, whatever.’ I’m not really paying attention to anything they’re saying. I mean, I was thinking, ‘How bad can it be?’ We get the ball for the first time in the game, and on the first play, their defensive end, Kevin Henry, grabs me by my personal parts and is dragging me down the line of scrimmage! Come on, I’m a big ol’ grown man, and he’s grabbing me there and dragging me down the line. It was wild. I couldn’t believe it. I had never even heard of something like that, let alone seen it or had it happen to me. I’m like, ‘Man, I should have listened to those veterans!” Yes, the voice of experience speaks volumes of wisdom to which we should all listen.

*1995 — The Browns used the latter of their two fifth-round picks in the NFL Draft to take a tiny wide receiver/returner from Notre Dame named Mike Miller. There seemed nothing special about him until there was. Miller wasn’t at practice the second day, and no one could find him. The Browns had no idea where he was. As it turns out, he took his guaranteed money, bolted camp and headed home without telling anybody. Like the words from the long-ago Steve Miller song, “Take the money and run.” And so he did. I never saw Belichick and Art Modell so furious, the coach because he had wasted a draft pick and the Browns owner because Miller had literally stolen money from him. The club was able to track Miller down and get the bonus back. That may have been the dumbest thing I ever saw anyone do in rookie minicamp. Years later, I saw that Miller was among the former Notre Dame players being honored at one of the school’s home football games. The question that begs to be asked is, “For what?” Being a knucklehead?

*2007 — Joe Thomas, a left tackle from the offensive line factory of Wisconsin, was drafted by the Browns in the first round, at No. 3 overall. He was among the linemen going through drills on the morning session of the first day of camp. All the media people stood about 10 yards away watching the proceedings. We were all laser-focused on Thomas, all but one of us watching him from the waist up. Then there was the guy standing next to me, former longtime Browns great left tackle Doug Dieken. He was watching Thomas, who coincidentally was wearing Dieken’s old No. 73, from the knees down. “What are you looking at?,” I asked him. “His feet,” he replied. “Why?” “You’ve got to have good, quick feet to play left tackle, and he has that. This kid has a chance.” Yes, he did, and Thomas made the most of that chance, getting all the way to Canton and the Pro Football Hall of Fame. And Dieken was the first one to notice his greatness. More on that soon.

Steve King