Under certain
circumstances, profanity provides a relief denied even to prayer.
Mark Twain
Mark Twain
Have
you ever had your heart broken? I’m not
talking about the unrequited love of a woman or man who did not know you
existed or would later prove unworthy of your affections. I’m talking about the kind of love that was
born and fostered with attention, nurtured through time and strengthened
through ecstasy and adversity. Then,
they meet someone younger, sexier and all the years, all the tribulations and exaltations
are defenestrated as if they never existed – as if they never meant anything at
all. On 28 March 1984, Baltimore Colts
owner Robert Irsay, emboldened by greed, spite and alcohol, brought Mayflower
moving trucks into the Colts Training Complex in the middle of a snowy night
and ripped the heart out of a city. I
know because I was there…crying.
My
wife thinks I need to get over this but I was fourteen years old, growing up in
my beloved Baltimore. I lived in an
apartment building in Owings Mills and delivered newspapers to my complex,
as well as the slightly nicer ones behind me.
Because of our proximity to the Colts training facility, I had several Colts
along my route. From time to time, Colt
players could be seen walking along store fronts or running the track of the nearby
middle school. I once was given a ride
home by the great Joe Washington as I left school early, sick. We watched the games every Sunday and
occasionally, we traveled to Memorial Stadium to see them in person. The players were a part of us and though I
lived in a time when that was beginning to change, my world and that of the
city’s fans was centered on the Baltimore Colts.
There
was talk about Robert Irsay not being happy with the situation in
Baltimore. The team was not at its best
and the fan turnout was not as robust. There
was talk by the mayor, William D. Schaefer, who sought a way of placating the
cantankerous owner. There was an embarrassing
scene at the airport when the mayor met the owner, recently arrived from, if
reports were to be believed, Arizona.
Were the Colts moving? A drunken
Irsay demanded to know who was saying such things. He wanted to know who would suggest he was meeting
with other cities. He lashed out at the
reporters and, worse yet, the city and Colts fans. He said if he had been supported by the city
and its citizens, none of these stories would have materialized.
Then,
one morning, the city awoke to news reports live from Owings Mills and the
training center, the last remnants of our love affair strewn around the parking
lot and vacated practice fields in the form of random cars and abandoned
equipment. The team had moved to Indianapolis. Employees who had worked for the team for
decades arrived at the office, only to find their job
no longer existed. I kept looking at my
father, trying to understand what was happening but he looked at me sadly. He had no answers. No one did.
Mayor Schaefer, who had tried to organize the city legislature to pass a
law to keep the team from leaving until negotiations were complete, faced the
cameras with tears in his eyes and little in the way of explanation. He was as dumbstruck as the rest of the
city.
The
Baltimore Colts were no more. Instead,
the team, its history and tradition, now rested in a city where, as famed
Baltimore reporter John Steadman once said, the best bagel in town could be
found in the frozen foods section of the local Piggly Wiggly. The Mayflower moving company went out of
business in Maryland. I did not know
they were still around until a trip to Texas left me gobsmacked as I saw a
green and gold monstrosity drive down the interstate.
Watching
them on television in the subsequent years was like watching your ex-girlfriend
stepping out with her new guy. With the
Baltimore Ravens in town now, my allegiance has shifted and my new love is
great. Still, from time to time, I look
at the old one and wonder what could have been.
If you are not from Baltimore or a sports fan, this post will make no
sense. These are simply the memories of a scarred
teenager who could not make sense of the world around me. Sometimes, I still can’t.