I’ve always said that if for some reason things changed for me and I was no longer blessed with the ability to guide this website, the journey has been so rewarding and I’d leave knowing that I’m better because Ravens24x7.com came along.
You see along the way as this piece of real estate on the information highway has evolved, I have had the good fortune of meeting some very kind, giving and wonderful people. Some may have only entered my world for a few fleeting moments but when they left, their influence resonated.
In many cases it still does.
I’m reminded of one of those moments as I reflect upon the 2013 season and seasons before.
Several years ago, a visitor to our website, one who I had never met before or since, wrote to me to share a story about him and his Dad. The story captures what I’ve always tried to embrace and nurture here on 24×7 – Ravens related stories delivered with passion, heart and a sense of community while having fun.
This story touches all bases…
Just prior to the arrival of the Ravens from Cleveland this father and son had a falling out. It was one of those typical battles when foolish pride gets in the way, you dig in your heels because you fear the humility of being wrong and suddenly a correctible family problem morphs into a great divide and splits a family for years.
When the son learned of Art Modell’s move to Baltimore, regardless of the differences with his Pop, he knew they shared a common love for football. So as part of an effort to thaw the cold war, the son purchased two PSL’s – one for himself and one for his Dad.
Upon his receipt of two PSL’s and two 1996 season tickets, the son mailed a set to his Dad.
Months went by and not a word was spoken between the father and son…
On the day of the first Ravens home game, the son, alone, made his way to his seat. Beside him was an empty one, the one belonging to his Dad. The son waited, wondered and hoped that his Dad would arrive. But as the minutes clicked away and there was no sign of Dad, the son grew agitated and prepared for a life-long, unsolvable rift.
As he sat and fretted, cycling through the typical nerve induced body movements, the son looked up and saw what he thought was a familiar face. Filtering through the many fans while navigating the steep stairs of old Memorial Stadium’s upper deck was Dad.
Finally Dad took his seat.
After the predictable initial awkwardness, small talk soon evolved into reminiscing.
The cold war was over.
A bond that was broken was restored and a family was healed in part because a football team moved to Baltimore.
This column was originally posted on June 14, 2012.