This was not a schtick for clicks, says DeSiree Wheeler.
On Sept. 7, hours before the Cleveland Browns kicked off the 2025 season against the Cincinnati Bengals, Wheeler stood on an altar just south of the entry to the Muni Lot. The 50-year-old Browns superfan, who goes by “First Lady” on the social media platform X, wore a white sundress, a veil attached to a white Browns hat and her signature Chuck Taylors with a painted helmet. Across from her, Charles Bevel Jr., a 57-year-old die-hard with his own following as “Brown Spider,” donned white pants and a white vest embroidered with a spider and his iconic Spiderman sunglasses. Under the shadow of a rented RV, Brown Spider and First Lady vowed their lives to each other.
The Muni Lot qualifies as a church when Browns football is your religion.
Life imitates art and also football. The New England Patriots and the Kansas City Chiefs built dynasties around bend-don’t-break football, evidence that big wins don’t come easy. A rise to glory that should be inevitable but remains elusive is the carrot that keeps Browns fans running. Joy and honor. Leadership and teamwork. Strength and sacrifice. Heartbreak and loss. Hope and yearning.
Bevel and Wheeler experienced that heartbreak and loss before finding each other.
Bevel, who lived in North Carolina for 20 years before moving back to his childhood home in Glenville, had recently separated and was going through a divorce. His kids, graduated and off to college, didn’t need his daily attention anymore. He had no partner.
“I realized that I didn't know who I was,” he says. “I actually went through the process of trying to find myself.”
In 2019, he attended his first out-of-town game. He saw the Browns beat the New York Jets at Meadowlands Sports Complex in New Jersey. Traveling alone pushed him out of his comfort zone. Scheduling trips around Browns games gave him something to do when he got to each destination. An active member of online Browns communities since before social media, Bevel joined tailgates with people he met online. As a psychiatric nurse, Bevel earned the nickname “Spiderman” for everyday wearing T-shirts featuring the radioactive spider-bitten character, an effort to disarm his patients. Each time he went to a game, his co-workers were curious to follow his journey. So, on Sept. 8, 2019, nearly six years to the day before the wedding, he dressed up in the brown-and-orange superhero suit and sunglasses so his colleagues could find him in the stands. They didn’t see him in the broadcast, but a tradition was born. Eventually, he started making friends with other superfans, many of whom he’d known for years but only known through an avatar and a handle.
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One of them was Wheeler — but not yet. The Columbus native, who works as a leadership consultant in the energy industry, became a Browns fan when she married a Sandusky man at 19 years old.
“I got rid of him but kept the team,” she says.
Also a single empty-nester at the time after a long relationship, Wheeler lost her mother in 2018. The life transition inspired travel ambitions and self-discovery that mimicked Bevel’s, but she had the same woes. What will I do when I get there? The tailgates offered community. Between 2018 and 2022, she went to more than 15 games. Less sartorially minded, her persona centered around orange hair or hats and her signature Chuck Taylors.
Despite attending many of the same games, for years they were like brown-and-orange RVs passing on the highway. In cities such as Kansas City, Miami and Indianapolis, the superfans tailgated together without knowing it. One December game in Cleveland Bevel snagged a selfie with Wheeler, whom he recognized from Twitter. Finally, in Kansas City, a group, including Wheeler, needed a ride to a club, and the ever-outgoing Bevel not only offered to drive but to join. Bevel claims Wheeler “found him annoying” at first, but after more trips, the pair parlayed their love of football into a devotion for each other.
Unsurprisingly, Browns football is their strongest bond. The seasons kick off at the kitchen table, where they deliberate over their annual record prediction. Over the months that follow, the couple wakes up to ESPN and falls asleep to Quincy Carrier’s Worst Take podcast between gameday. The biggest offseason holiday is the day the NFL announces the schedule, which commences urgent travel planning.
However, football is more than just a shared hobby, says Wheeler. The ups and downs of their Browns fandom offer a portal to marriage’s most important elements: communication and understanding. Instances like running back Quinshon Judkins’ domestic abuse arrest, for example, led to a deep conversation about how their son's and grandchildren should approach and be treated in the relationships they enter. A head coach’s hotseat status might lead to a long diatribe on leadership and pressure (especially from Bevel, who is prone to philosophizing and an admitted talker).
"It's been like nothing else I've ever experienced with any past relationships,” says Wheeler. “It really always gives us something to connect on and something to come back to together."
Now, after the bitterness of setbacks and defeats, and then moments of hope, they’ve felt the sweet joy of teamwork and a big win.
Rain, not in the forecast, fell for hours the morning of the wedding. About 100 VIPs dried chairs with paper towels, and hundreds of tailgaters chugged beer and stood next to local TV cameras to cheer on the couple. At about 10 a.m., as the bride stepped onto the stage with a brown-and-white bouquet, the sun came out. Close friends and family, including Brown Spida’s flowergirl granddaughters, stood beside the couple on stage. Moments later, Bevel exclaimed “I do, I do, let’s f—ing go!” The community, the one the couple first built on Twitter and then in real life, barked along.
“The Browns Twitter community really has given a sense of extended family,” says Wheeler. “These folks have really become family to all of us, and we all really support each other and stay connected.”
Hans Schneider, aka “Browns Batman,” who also serves as the mayor of Wellington, Ohio, officiated the wedding. Beloved ’80s Browns wide receiver Webster Slaughter helped him over the goal line with a prayer and a speech.
“Marriage celebrates the wins big and small,” Slaughter said. “When the Browns win a game, any game, the entire city erupts in joy. Why? Because victory is precious when you know what it took to get there. Marriage is the same. You celebrate not just the anniversaries and the promotions or the new house and the new baby. You celebrate Tuesday morning when the coffee is hot and your partner makes you laugh. You savor moments where you get through something together, something only the two of you truly understand.”
Bevel and Wheeler plan to continue traveling to away games. Since starting their journey, they’ve each seen about 20 NFL stadiums. A bit delayed, the honeymoon is a trip to London to see the week five matchup on Oct. 5 against the Minnesota Vikings at Tottenham Hotspur Stadium. They won’t even rest for the bye week, thanks to a trip to see the Bills before Buffalo moves to a new stadium.
After the wedding, the Browns lost in Brownsian fashion, a missed extra point and a missed field goal to fall 17-16 to the Bengals. Still, Wheeler feels hopeful about the season. “I am always optimistic,” she says. After all, that’s what being a Browns fan is all about.
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