The resignation of Cleveland Browns vice president Dwight Clark late Monday afternoon was heralded as abrupt. But in reality, given the immediate success of coach Butch Davis on the sideline and in the draft room, Clark's departure was 16 months in the making.

Try as he might to sound sincere when he suggested that Davis was "as shocked as anyone" by Clark's exit, club president and chief executive officer Carmen Policy wasn't convincing. Little wonder, since the entire football world knew that when Davis was hired as coach on Jan. 30, 2001, his contract called for more than $3 million annually.

	As if he didn't have it already, Butch Davis now has everyone's ear in Cleveland.

So forget the notion that Davis has now become the latest NFL head coach to gain a vise-grip hold on all the football powers. Fact is, from the day he arrived in Cleveland with a south Florida tan and a track record for reversing the fortunes of moribund programs, the straightforward Davis owned the scepter.

Davis didn't so much usurp Clark's responsibility as he did absorb it, essentially taking over virtually all the personnel decisions, plotting all the trades and draft choices. And that was hardly surprising, since Davis is a Jimmy Johnson protégé, a coach well-versed in hitting the road on fact-finding scouting forays.

Johnson believed, as did Bill Parcells, that if you're going to cook a meal, you ought to be able to shop for the groceries. The difference with Johnson is that he was far better at the scouting end of the game than Parcells, and, as a result, so are many of the coaches who apprenticed under him.

Even the even-keeled Policy -- arguably Clark's closest friend and confidant and, some might argue, his patron saint through the dubious personnel decisions made in the early days of the reincarnated Cleveland franchise -- noted the keen eye possessed by Davis in scouting.

"(Davis) has," Policy noted Monday night, "a unique propensity for being able to evaluate talent."

Policy declined to term the events of Monday "a power play" and, in truth, they really were not. At least not in the sense of the classic palace coup.

Sources familiar with the expeditious January 2001 contract negotiations that ended the successful tenure of Davis at the University of Miami and delivered him to Cleveland say the new coach always had "the clout" in personnel matters. Translation: From the moment Davis arrived, Clark retained his title and a salary rumored to be about $850,000, but lost significant sway when it came to assembling the roster.

There had been rumors much of the offseason that the Cleveland personnel department was facing major changes. Last Friday in a "Tip Sheet" column, ESPN.com suggested a shakeup was imminent and that director of pro personnel Keith Kidd could be in trouble. It was announced Monday that Kidd also has departed. The exit of Clark and Kidd followed the sudden departure of former personnel director Joe Collins last winter.

Clark, Kidd and Collins had all been with the Browns since their re-inaugural season of 1999. Clark and Collins were two of the former San Francisco staffers who made their way East with Policy to quickly construct the resurrected franchise. But that old 49ers mafia is all but torn asunder with Clark's departure.

In the past year, Davis installed former Miami aide Pete Garcia as his top lieutenant. He, not Clark, has been the man on whom Davis has leaned the most in recent months. And it is Garcia, certainly more so than Davis, who benefited the most from the Monday resignation that leaves Clark without a job.

For 19 seasons, first as a wide receiver and later as a management official, Clark basked in the 49ers glory. His good looks, quick smile and on-field lineage (remember, he was the man who authored "The Catch," the wondrous back-of-the end zone grab that thrust the 49ers into their first Super Bowl) cast him into the spotlight. Sometimes rightfully, on other occasions merely by association, Clark was credited with making wily decisions on personnel that annually kept San Francisco in playoff contention.

The same magic, though, wasn't present in the early days at Cleveland. And when the Davis staff was assembled and took a video inventory of the talent base, a few of the assistants privately wondered how the cupboard could be so bare, since the Browns enjoyed double draft choices in the first two years of their existence.

No one event undermined Clark, but with Davis leading the team to a heady 7-9 record and making savvy personnel calls, his power base simply eroded. So before this year's draft, Clark actually began planning his endgame and, with the lottery completed and Garcia in place as the new power, Monday's resignation became a fait accompli long before Clark tendered his letter of departure.

Whether or not Clark, 44, locates another front-office job in the NFL remains to be seen. He is off, in the jargon of those nudged out the door, free "to pursue other opportunities." And Davis is free from having to at least discuss with Clark his pending moves.

Davis praised Clark for "the good dialogue and nice exchange of ideas" they shared. It is often impossible in the NFL, however, to be joined at the hip powerwise. There is no real time-sharing plan when it comes to personnel decisions. To suggest there ever truly was in Cleveland, once Davis arrived, would be to continue the charade.

On Monday afternoon, Clark simply grew officially weary of the facade, and ended it.

Policy noted that Davis will be "hallmarked and programmed to have more input" in all personnel matters. But he has enjoyed, since his arrival, all the input he required. "Reality took hold," Policy said.

Actually, reality took over completely, 16 months after Davis already had.

Len Pasquarelli is a senior writer for ESPN.com.