The new Mike Brown is almost invisible. Everywhere you look, he isn't there. The Bengals emperor has retreated from the public stage, or at least from public comment. It is the single most remarkable Bengals happening since Paul Brown died.

He has nothing to say. Not now or, possibly, ever again. Brown is pleasant as usual, polite as always and likeable, which - surprise - he is most of the time. He's just not talking. It's just as well.

Brown was never good at selling hope. That's someone else's job now.

Mike Brown stood in the shadows while Carson Palmer spoke at a news conference last week. (Glenn Hartong photo) | ZOOM |

The stars of the show at Thursday's business luncheon were league commissioner Paul Tagliabue and Bengals commissioner Marvin Lewis. Tagliabue was in heaven, having attended to two ills at once: the Bengals and the NFL's minority-hiring problem.

Meanwhile, if Lewis were in the Bush cabinet, he'd be Rumsfeld and Powell. He exudes confidence, projects power and makes you want to hit the weight room. When Brown spoke, you started looking at your watch.

After 12 years of driving the Lumina, Brown has handed the keys to his head coach. Firmly and decisively. Stand in line if you believed Mike Brown would ever do that.

Essentially, Brown has admitted he failed. It takes a lot of courage and a little wisdom to acknowledge you've failed at something, especially when that something is your life's work. It takes a lot to stand and listen as your reign is being trashed, even inadvertently, by all the "new era" talk.

Carson Palmer meant no offense last week. He stood at a podium at Paul Brown Stadium and invoked the "new era" mantra, delivered to him by current Bengals. They told the rookie quarterback everything was suddenly different and better since Brown hired Lewis.

And maybe it is. The Bengals' draft was universally applauded, a first in 12 years. The club has signed free agents who don't see Cincinnati as the last chance to fill their wallets. Lewis is playing the arduous game of moving attitudes. He seems to be winning.

What must Brown think, though, when all this newfound praise is also an indictment of what he did for a decade? You won't know by asking him. Or by watching him. As Palmer praised the new era, Mike stood poker-faced against a wall.

"There's no way a person or family can change as much in three months as we're doing now," Lewis said Thursday. Especially not this person, or family. And yet, they have. Brown has. He has become the CEO he should have become 10 years ago.

Mike Brown is running the company, not meddling in it. He has hired good people and has let them work. Early returns are good. "The renaissance in Cincinnati," Tagliabue called it.

The Bengals always had a problem with ideas. They didn't have enough. The organization was full of yes-men and hangers-on, a coterie Brown was comfortable with and ruled over without fear of mutiny. The head coaches lacked the will and charisma to stand up to him, the assistants were glad to have jobs. The players cared mainly that their paychecks cleared.

When Brown hired Lewis and allowed him to assemble much of his staff, the old era began its limp into history. New ideas, new energy, new blood. New era. As much as we've ripped, ridiculed and roasted Mike Brown in the last 12 years, maybe we should praise him now. He has set his team free.

Brown still might be swinging the hammer on major decisions. But the perception is, Mike is edging toward sunset. The chairman of the board is propping up his brown winged-tips and leaning back in one of those publicly funded, laser-etched, high-backed Bengals chairs, after a long, difficult run.

If the Bengals lose now, we'll blame Lewis, not Brown. If the Bengals win, our hearts will thaw some, and the history of the Mike Brown Era will be revised. It should have happened 10 years ago. Other than that, it's brilliant.

E-mail pdaugherty@enquirer.com