Baltimore Raven's Return To Glory

For thirty years the Colts were the pride of Baltimore and then in 1983, a year before my birth, Robert Irsay—the owner—snuck the team out of the city in Mayflower moving Vans, evading the State police and bringing an end to a proud dynasty. 

Although I never knew them, I grew up on legends of Johnny Unitas, the turn of luck in Super Bowl V and the heartbreak of Super Bowl III. 

It was common for local television stations to play old clips of Quarterback Bert Jones and Coach Ted Marchibroda talking strategy on the sidelines and then Johnny U going pass for pass with Joe Namath in the aforementioned Super Bowl.  

I knew much, but I felt little. It was the team of my father, of an earlier era and I felt as removed from them as from a time before computers and cell phones. But one thing I was certain of was the city's desire to replace its lost team. 

Baltimore is one of the great football towns and the longing for the sport's return was always palpable.  

Then in 1994, a funny thing happened. 

So desperate had the yearning become that the city accepted an offer to host a Canadian Football League franchise. It was an anomaly that had immediate success in a football-starved city. Attendance was high and the city proved as devoted a fan base as for its other darling, the baseball Orioles. 

In their two years, the Baltimore Stallions—as they became known—reached the final game—the Grey Cup—twice, losing the first and winning the second. The emergence of the Stallions had gotten my attention and the notice of a new generation. 

Many of us had never been football fans, but the excitement of the sport and a team to call our own was enough to spark a frenzy.  

After the Stallion's Grey Cup win, so fierce was the enthusiasm for football that Art Modell, the disgruntled owner of the Cleveland Browns, announced he would move his NFL franchise from Cleveland to Baltimore. 

By now the city was primed for the NFL's return and I, just reaching adolescence, was going to be their biggest fan.  This was, of course, the sentiment of every Baltimoron.  

And thus, the Baltimore Ravens were born. For the older generation, they invited back Ted Marchibroda, the old Colts coach; for the new football fans, when they failed to obtain the Colts history from Indianapolis, Modell allowed the city to choose a mascot, finally agreeing to name the team after the poem of a great Baltimore native, Edgar Allen Poe. 

The name and colors were awkward for a city that wanted to punish a league—on the field—which had abandoned it for so many years, but how could we complain?  

On that first Sunday, the anticipation was momentous and the Ravens did not disappoint with a win over the Oakland Raiders. 

From that first kickoff, the Ravens had captured my heart and the hearts of my townsmen. In our city, every player is a saint, the team owner owns a chain of sporting good stores and every mother joins her husband and sons on Sunday to cheer for the Ravens.  

This year will be no different.