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In his new book “Why Can’t This Team Just Find a Quarterback (and Other Thoughts on Life in Browns Town)” (paperback $17.95 / 208 pages / ebook $9.99), Terry Pluto looks at why things so often go so wrong for the Cleveland Browns — including losing seasons, draft busts, injuries… and, above all, an endless search for a starting quarterback. The book is available at Northeast Ohio bookstores, Amazon, and TerryPlutoBook.com. CLEVELAND, Ohio — Jim Donovan, the Browns’ great radio voice, was in the hospital receiving a new round of treatments for leukemia when he told this story about the 2023 season. “I did the opener [Sept. 10, 2023],” Donovan said. “Then I stepped away [from the broadcast]. At that point, I didn’t know if I could come back again [that season]. I don’t think a lot of the people treating me thought that could happen.” Donovan had been battling chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL) since 2000, when he was first diagnosed. He also had melanoma along the way. By the summer of 2023, he knew more treatments were needed. His goal was to call the opening game, which he did as the Browns beat Cincinnati, 24-3. Then, he went into the hospital. “A lot of people were telling me, ‘There’s always next year. You’ll feel better by then,’” said Donovan. “That was disheartening because I wanted to come back this year.” Donovan was in his hospital room watching the Browns’ 26-22 loss to the Steelers on Monday Night Football. “That was the first game I was going to miss,” said Donovan. “It was one of my saddest days. I always loved going to Pittsburgh. It’s such great theater over there — even though it usually didn’t come out well for the Browns.” Instead, Donovan was in the hospital, his head filled with the plans for various treatments — many of them were going to wear down his body and drain him emotionally. His main treatment was CAR T-cell therapy, a new way to fight cancer. “I was watching the game, and Nick Chubb went down with a knee injury,” said Donovan. “I’m really sad. I got up, went to the TV and turned down the volume. Then I started to do my own play-by-play from the hospital room.” Donovan already was depressed during his battle with leukemia. Then he saw Chubb, one of his favorite players, suffer a devastating knee injury. Rather than shut down and slip deeper into depression, Donovan began announcing the game. He didn’t want to give up, just as he knew Chubb would battle back from whatever was coming next. This was therapy for Donovan. He continued to do it while he was off the air, calling those games just as if he were in the booth. People walking down the hospital hallways would stop in his room and listen. “I was in the hospital for three weeks,” he said. “Some people said, ‘Hey, you sound great!’ I’d thank them and then tell them to shut the door.” The way Donovan told the story, we both ended up laughing. But I think about that story now and my heart breaks. Donovan passed away from leukemia and some other forms of cancer on Oct. 26, 2024. How it began It didn’t start out like cancer. No clue it was cancer. No strange bumps, nothing much out of the ordinary. Donovan talked with me about his health and his battle with cancer for different newspaper stories over the years. The last time we spoke was a few months before his death on Oct. 26, 2024. “It was during training camp in 2000,” he said. “I just didn’t feel that good, pretty tired. I went to one of those 24-hour walk-in places. They ran a blood test.” As Donovan awaited the results, he thought about how he rarely was sick. He was 43 years old. Probably nothing to worry about — even after he’d sat there for more than 30 minutes. “We’re going to take the blood test again,” the doctor said. Donovan still wasn’t that concerned. After the second test, they told him, “You have a very elevated white blood cell count. You either have an infection, or you’re showing signs you have leukemia.” Donovan felt his heart sink. His legs “turned to rubber.” He kept thinking . . . leukemia . . . how can it be leukemia? He didn’t feel very sick, except for an upset stomach. And whose stomach wouldn’t be churning after hearing that news? His next stop was his family doctor, more blood tests, more of the same results — white blood cells numbers going up. He was diagnosed with chronic lymphocytic leukemia (CLL). “An alarm went off in my head,” said Donovan. “My dad had that. He was very understated about it. I remembered him saying, ‘I have this thing called CLL.’ ” That conversation happened after Donovan had just done his first national NFL game for NBC. That was in 1987. “I’m sorry, I didn’t see the game,” Jim Donovan Sr. told his son. “I was in the hospital. My mouth sort of blew up. But I’m OK. I’m not going to die from it.” The never-ending battle Donovan learned during his battle with cancer that it never really goes away. Even when it is “gone” and you’re in remission, it’s still there. You think about it. You have to wait for the next tests and scans. “When you come home after the transfusion, you go see doctors about three times a week for all kinds of testing,” said Donovan. “That included a dermatologist. I had this patch on my earlobe. They tested it and it was melanoma. I was in a bad spot because I had no immune system.” The news was shocking. After all he’d been through, now a mole on the earlobe? A bad mole? Really? Many who have had a serious bout with cancer can tell you this: There are times when the physical pain is matched by the emotional strain of more bad news. That was how Donovan felt a few weeks before the 2011 season when the earlobe became an issue. “They did the surgery to remove the mole,” he said. “They were worried about it [the melanoma] spreading.” Then came the waiting. Donovan recalled a night sitting on his porch. All was quiet, except his thoughts. After all he had been through, he suddenly feared it was a mole . . . on his earlobe . . . that was going to kill him. “We had to sweat it out for a week before the pathology report (on the mole) came back,” said Donovan. “It didn’t spread. I did the Browns’ opener. I missed one game in San Francisco. I got pneumonia.” “I played in the NFL for 14 years and never missed a game,” said Doug Dieken, Donovan’s long-time partner in the radio booth. “I played with a lot of tough guys. But the toughest guys are not always on the field.” Earlier in his broadcast career, Dieken had been paired up with Nev Chandler when the Browns’ play-by-play man (1985–93) was struck with colon cancer. Chandler died Aug. 7, 1994, at the age of 47. “Jimmy and Nev are the two toughest guys I’ve ever been around,” said Dieken. “Nev and Jimmy would come into the booth. They had been drained all week by cancer treatments, and they’d still crank up the energy.” He saw many similarities between the two. “They both brought so much enthusiasm to the game,” said Dieken. “I’d sit there like a bump on a log and I’d get my energy from their energy. I’d want guys like that on my team any day.” The last game together On the day after Jimmy Donovan died (Oct. 26, 2024), I called Dieken. For 23 years, Dieken and Donovan had done Browns games together on radio. But they shared one last game together. It was at Donovan’s home on Oct. 6, 2024. The two men sat in front of the TV set, both realizing it would be special. Donovan had stepped away from the radio booth a few weeks before the 2024 season opened. Dieken had talked to Donovan several times since that game. He visited Donovan in hospice a few times. “He knew,” said Dieken. The former Browns offensive lineman’s voice cracked. “You never know when it’s going to be the last rodeo,” he said. “We were just two guys watching a Browns game.” Final score: Washington 34, Browns 13. Over the years, they called so many games just like that together. Really bad football. Dieken laughed as he recalled that, saying how the two buddies talked about the game like they sometimes had wished they could while watching the Browns’ incompetence from the radio booth. “No way you could put that on the radio,” he laughed. “It was strictly cable TV, if you know what I mean. It was a lot of ‘Oh, crap . . . what was that?’ We told some stories I can’t tell you [for the public]. He was typical Jimmy . . . upbeat . . . He never wanted anyone to feel sorry for him. “Jimmy lived to do the games,” Dieken said. Not long after Donovan died, I received this email from reader Tim Huhta: Our 20-year-old son was diagnosed with cancer and faced three months of chemo. I’ve been a Browns season ticket holder since 1995. I reached out to Jimmy, telling him what my son was facing — and we are at every game. Maybe I thought he would send him a letter? A card. Jim called Logan on his way to Cincinnati last year, saying he was thinking of Logan and wanted to check in. He called him the morning of the game. They would text and talk on the phone many times over Logan’s three-month ordeal. Even as Jimmy faced his awful news, Logan and Jimmy continued to text and encourage each other. I feel like we lost a great friend. Jimmy didn’t have to do what he did for my son. My family will never forget the time he took to help Logan fight his fight. Upcoming Terry Pluto speaking events and book signings Tuesday, Nov. 4, 6:30 p.m.: Barnes & Noble, Mentor, 7900 Mentor Ave. (book signing only) Thursday, Nov. 6, 6:30 p.m.: Chagrin Falls Township Hall, 83 N Main St. (hosted by Fireside Book Shop) Thursday, Nov. 13, 6:30 p.m.: Barnes & Noble, Fairlawn, 4015 Medina Rd. Tuesday, Nov. 18, 6:30 p.m.: Hudson Library, 96 Library St. Thursday, Nov. 20, 6:30 p.m.: Barnes & Noble, Youngstown, 381 Boardman-Poland Rd. Tuesday, Dec. 2, 6:30 p.m.: Barnes & Noble, North Canton, 5501 Dressler Rd NW. Thursday, Dec. 4, 7 p.m.: Visible Voice Books, Cleveland, 4601 Lorain (New store address).
