Previously on 20 For 20
For many decades Baltimoreans have carried a chip on their respective shoulders, the byproduct of being snubbed by so many for so long.
Our town has often been dismissed as being not much more than a pit stop between DC and Philadelphia. It is regularly ignored on the national scene, cast aside as the stepchild of cities along the eastern seaboard.
In the 50’s the Baltimore Colts helped change all of that.
Led by the iconic Johnny Unitas, the Colts were largely responsible for putting Baltimore back on the map and catapulting the NFL into the discussion of our country’s national pastime.
On the heels of that infamous nationally televised sudden death overtime win in 1958, paving the way to our city’s first world championship, the National Football League approached the lofty status of Major League Baseball in Americana’s collective stream of consciousness.
The Colts became intertwined with fabric of the Baltimore community and the team’s horseshoe, a symbol of the ironclad bond between them and the city they represented.
But that bond began its decay on July 13, 1972, the day Robert Irsay bought the Los Angeles Rams for $19M and then traded that franchise to Carroll Rosenbloom in exchange for the Baltimore Colts. Irsay hired Joe Thomas who dismantled the team, casting off the legendary Unitas like a worn out bag of balls.
Over the next 12 seasons the Baltimore Colts died a slow death thanks in large part to an owner who was cantankerous when sober and even worse when marinated in yet another bottle of Beefeater Gin.
Irsay’s volatile drunkenness eventually led to the departure of the team into the snowy darkness of that unforgettable night on March 29, 1984. As those Mayflower vans sped out of town, they stole a huge part of our city’s heritage and shredded our civic pride.
Baltimore seemingly fell off the map again, a town left helplessly at the NFL’s altar.
Twelve NFL seasons came and went during which we were force fed the Washington Redskins, toyed with by other owners dangling their franchise, only to discover that we were nothing more than leverage, pawns in their dirty larcenous games.
We were shamed by the league during the expansion process – lured into hosting a game between the Dolphins and Saints, which sold out in record time, yet all along using our emotions and desires to get back on the league’s map in self-indulgent ways.
And then later the league’s disingenuous caretaker told us to save our money for a museum.
That dismissive statement from cavalier NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue in all of his glorious DC elitist arrogance, will never be forgotten. It still stings and insults us to the core. It is a bell that can never be un-rung.
Fortunately, Baltimore was saved by the bell of Art Modell, who officially announced the move of the Cleveland Browns to Charm City on November 6, 1995.
Initially it didn’t matter all that much what the Ravens did on the field. What mattered is that they were on the field – our field, at old Memorial Stadium. Losing was accepted early on simply because we were back in the league, restored to our righteous place among the league’s 31. It was our honeymoon.
Together we reacquainted ourselves with the nuances of being good fans. We learned how to tailgate. We learned to stir things up on third down and to remain quiet when Vinny Testaverde or Eric Zeier or Jim Harbaugh was under center.
Today Baltimore fans are regularly recognized as being among the Top 10 fan bases in the league with a game day experience that rivals any in the NFL. The economy in the area booms during the season while many other ancillary businesses were born as a result of the existence of the Baltimore Ravens.
Civic pride has been restored – and then some!
We’ll never forget losing the Colts. But what we’ve managed to put together as a community with the help of the Maryland Stadium Authority, the late Mayor William Donald Schaefer, Art Modell, Ravens owner Steve Bisciotti, and others has been nothing short of spectacular.
The Ravens have been postseason participants 10 of the 19 seasons played so far in Baltimore, securing 2 World Championships. They’ve been to the playoffs 6 out of the past 7 seasons. They’ve been the deliverers of so many memorable games that have enriched our lives and heightened our civic pride while adding chapters to our town’s folklore.
Friendships were born, others renewed. Families have grown closer. The hop in our collective step is noticeably peppier. We are back on the map and our city, indelibly circled in the ink of a purple Sharpie.
Twenty seasons!
It’s hard to believe.
But look around. Purple colors our lives.
It’s a good thing we didn’t build that museum.
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