There was no victory parade, victory celebration or victory anything for the 1964 Browns, the last club in franchise history to capture a league championship.

It was two days after Christmas, on Dec. 27, when they beat the daylights out of the heavily-favored Baltimore Colts 27-0 on a cold, early-winter day at Cleveland Stadium.

If we all had known back then that we would still be waiting for the next title a little over 60 years later, we would have had a party and it might still be going on now.

But everybody thought — no, everyone knew beyond any shadow of a doubt; they were posilutely, absotively certain — that the Browns, with all the great talent, coaching and tradition they had, would win the tithe again in 1965, and if not, then 1966, or 1967 or . . . 

Indeed, nobody saw this drought coming.

How could they have?

A week or so from now, there will be a Super Bowl victory parade in either Kansas City or Philadelphia, but not Cleveland, for what is now three generations and counting.

That has to end. I don’t care if that title and the parade that comes with it is achieved with an AFC Championship Game triumph that is 3-2, 50-49 or 100-99 in five overtimes. Just win it all.

You owe each one of us that, Cleveland Browns. Now pay up.

No excuses. Just deliver.

Years ago, I heard a fan say that he was afraid he would die of old age before the Browns won another championship. I thought that to be proposterous and laughed at it.

I am no longer laughing. And neither are any of my contemporaries.

Steve King