I wasn’t into football back in March of 1984. That’s when Robert Irsay loaded Mayflower moving vans in the dead of night and secretly whisked the Baltimore Colts to Indianapolis. I understood the city’s outrage, but I didn’t feel it.
I still wasn’t a football fan in the years that followed. Baltimore’s attempts to acquire a new football team flew right over my head. Franchises bypassing Baltimore for Jacksonville and Charlotte? Didn’t register. I barely remember failed plans to buy the L.A. Rams.
It took until 1996 for Baltimore to land a football team. While the acquisition didn’t occupy prime space in my brain, I do remember the irony of a city that hated losing their beloved Colts to Indianapolis doing something similar to Cleveland and their Browns.
The team officially became the Baltimore Ravens on March 29, 1996, exactly twelve years after the Colts left. Their name was chosen via a telephone survey of over 30,000 fans. “Ravens” won in a landslide, easily beating out “Marauders” and “Americans.” I thought that if asked, I would have chosen “Ravens,” too. I still knew nothing about football, but it was fun having an opinion about something so many people were talking about.
Two months later, at a packed event held at Baltimore’s Harborplace, the Ravens officially introduced their team logo, uniforms, and colors (purple, black, and metallic gold). Football was back in Baltimore. Although I still didn’t understand the game, I was beginning to understand the camaraderie that came along with it.
As years passed, I realized that despite my own football disconnect, I’d somehow raised Ravens fans. Game days were exciting for my girls. Listening to the whoops and groans coming from downstairs, I felt I was missing out by not watching with them. Wanting to join in was the last push I needed to finally learn the game.
I came for the camaraderie and the snacks, but I didn’t know the half of it back then. Obviously, being a Ravens fan meant instant community in Baltimore. I just didn’t realize how many fans I’d meet outside of Ravens territory:
Granville Island, Vancouver: My husband doubles back to the restaurant we just left to retrieve the Ravens windbreaker he left behind. The hostess whips around from behind the counter, windbreaker in hand. This native British Columbian is a die-hard Lamar Jackson fan eager to talk Baltimore football.
Thunder Bay, Ontario: We may be chillaxing at a place on the northwest shore of Lake Superior, but being Baltimore Ravens fans scores us a free beer flight from the general manager. The Ravens originally snagged him with their defense, and he’s never let go. His dream is to attend a game at M&T Bank Stadium.
Savannah, GA: On a Sunday afternoon, a Flock of Ravens fans gathers as usual at an outdoor bar to watch the game. This is where we meet a trainer for the Buffalo Bills who hopes his NFL career arc eventually leads him to Baltimore.
Reykjavik, Iceland: It’s a few days before Christmas, cold enough that my husband wears his Ravens knit hat. A car passes our part of the sidewalk. “Go Ravens!” its inhabitants holler out the window.
Of course, team recognition works both ways. My daughter’s choice to wear her Ravens hat in Philadelphia sparked a different sort of conversation as several Philadelphia Eagles fans assured us that their team would beat our team that season (I don’t want to talk about it). The exchange was good-natured … but maybe don’t wear the hat in Pittsburgh.
There’s a lot wrong with this world. There are problems with football, too, but rooting for the same team provides that rare opportunity when we’re all on the same side, hoping for the same outcome. I’d like to think that any time this happens, we have an opportunity to bridge some gaps and establish a more human connection.
A new NFL season starts today. Watch responsibly. Be kind. And – Go Ravens!
