In the midst of stifling negativity surrounding the Cleveland Browns, it’s wise today to take a step back and simply appreciate what we’ve all seen the last 10-plus seasons from a man as surely destined for Canton as anyone in NFL history.

Because we -- and the NFL -- may never see it again.

Joe Thomas may not be done playing. This arm injury will keep him out for the rest of the season, and while he may be back in 2018, it did end one of the most remarkable streaks in the history of any sport.

Which is good reason to pause.

What Thomas has accomplished in terms of durability, consistency, ability and professionalism is a marvel. That he had not missed a snap since 2007 before Sunday is a mark of excellence. That he did it at a sustained level of excellence rarely seen for 100 plays in the NFL, let alone 10,000, is mind-boggling.

There are only two comparisons to Thomas in the history of sports, and that’s the consecutive-game streaks of baseball legends Lou Gehrig and Cal Ripken Jr.

All three players showed up for work on a daily basis, did their jobs and did them better than many had ever done them before.

The difference among the three players? Ripken and Gehrig got to enjoy wins and championships and team success. That has not happened for Thomas. And that is a gargantuan shame.

Yet, in what may be the most amazing and remarkable thing to see on a daily basis, Thomas wasn't curt or rude. He was cooperative, supportive, friendly and positive with a trademark smile.

In the midst of losing, of teams falling apart, he never took a day off. I mentioned this to him once, that he persevered through some bad teams, and he looked at me with amazement. “You still have a job to do,” he said.

Thomas spent his draft day fishing with his dad as opposed to going to New York City for the hoopla. That was more his style.

That style had him joking Sunday, a day filled with physical and mental pain, when he said Tennessee’s Taylor Lewan must have been bringing him a bouquet of flowers when Lewan paid respects to Thomas as he left the field.

Monday, the day he had his MRI, he found a way to laugh -- at himself and his situation.

The Geneva convention on torture (confinement, stress positions) was just violated when they wedged me into that MRI tube for 2 hrs. Yikes!

— Joe Thomas (@joethomas73) October 23, 2017

His one mantra when he gets attention has been constant. He said it the day his first minicamp ended, and the day after he reached 10,000 snaps in a row: "Now I can go back to being an offensive lineman again."

Thomas’ achievements, which includes 10 Pro Bowls in 10 seasons, are almost like an alien encounter. You know what you’re seeing; it’s right in front of your eyes. But it’s hard to believe.

Thomas played at a Hall of Fame level from the first day he walked on the job. His level of play never wavered. He did not miss a play until Sunday.

He has stayed the same guy who gardens, recognizes trees from afar -- "That's a burr oak right there," he said one day at the team facility. "That's a quaking aspen; there's like eight or nine over there. There's a bunch of cottonwoods.” -- and who had his first date with his wife Annie when he asked if he could ever take her for a ride in his canoe.

The number 10,363 should be emblazoned somewhere in FirstEnergy Stadium, apart from any other tribute to Thomas. It represents the best of professionalism.

Thomas epitomizes Cleveland. He simply shows up to work every day, and every day when he shows up he gives his best.

This tear in Thomas’ triceps is serious and will require surgery. It was a tough thing to watch, seeing him on the ground. Tough for fans, teammates, players on the other team (Lewan’s jog to midfield to wish Thomas well will be remembered), coaches, equipment guys, anyone involved in the game and, yes, media.

Everyone who watches the NFL knew that what happened to Thomas was always possible. But as Joel Bitonio said, you start to get a feeling that he’s invincible. When it actually happens it’s a gut punch.

All of us in Cleveland grew up hearing our dads or uncles talk about Otto Graham, or Marion Motley, or Bob Feller.

One day 20 years from now we’ll be able to point to Thomas’ bust in Canton and tell our kids or grandkids that we watched him play all those consecutive plays for teams that rarely won, and smile every day he did it.

It will be an honor to share the story.