WELCOME TO THE BALTIMORE SPORTS NEST--ALL THINGS BAWLMER, HON!
MY FAVORITE THINGS (by Rick Benson)
(to the tune of "My Favorite Things from The Sound of Music)
I love Baltimore Ravens and Baltimore O's.
Steamed Crabs, Polock Johnnys and cold Natty Bohs.
Ravens football in fall and Orioles baseball in spring.
These are a few of my favorite things.
Blast soccer in winter and the snow is a-falling
I am a Baltimoron. It's truly my calling.
Cheering Flacco and Sizzle with a plate full of wings.
These are a few of my favorite things.
Johnny U and Ray Lewis and Ogden and Gino
Brooks, Frank, Cakes and Eddie and Cal Ripken Jr.
It's 7th inning stretch and "Country Boy" I will sing.
These are a few of my favorite things.
When the Yanks win and our Birds lose.
And I'm feeling sad.
I simply remember the Steelers still suck
and then I don't feel so bad.
BALTIMORE'S UNOFFICAL "YOU SUCK" LIST:
This website is dedicated to the rich and wonderful history of Baltimore sports. Creating this website has been a labor of love from the heart of someone who has been involved in sports for a lifetime. While seasons change from sport to sport, sports themselves transcend the seasons. They create memorable moments. Those moments mark the time. We play sports to the degree our bodies allow us. We teach our children how to play sports and help them develop the love that we have cultivated and enjoyed. I went from a player to a sportswriter/broadcaster to a coach to a historian. While my own life seasons have changed, one thing remains--I am a fan. I can pretty much watch any baseball or football game at any level along most basketball and hockey games, but it's a different deal when my team is playing. Some of the most ludicrous arguments I've ever heard revolve around what constitutes a real fan (how many games you attend, how many stats and trivia answers you can spew, duration of fandom, season ticket holder or not, etc, etc). This much I do know---I AM A REAL FAN. Ask anybody who knows me. Spend more than 10 minutes with me. It's a given; like red on a fire truck.
As a hardcore Orioles and Ravens fan, it was only fitting that I made this a Baltimore sports website that also pays homage to all things Baltimore. It tells the stories that give Baltimore a rich sports history. It’s a history that is filled with great athletes and personalities, memorable championships and incredible teams; along with heart-breaking losses, failed franchises and insufferable injustices. As they used to say on ABC’s Wide World of Sports, we've experienced the thrill of victory (The Greatest Game Ever, Would you believe four straight?, the Human Vacuum Cleaner, the Blunder Bowl, Oriole Magic, the I-95 Series, Why Not?, the Grey Cup, Turn up the Heat, Festivus Maximus and 23 gold medals) and the agony of defeat (The Kick, Amazins, the Guarantee, Beat em Bucs, We are Family, Mayflower vans, 0-21, the fixed expansion derby, Jeffrey Maier, the Royal Flush and the Steeler Stretch). It’s a history that brought us Brooks, Johnny U, Lenny, Frank, Artie, Gino, Frank, Cakes, Boog, Blade, Earl the Pearl, Honeycomb, Orrsville, Eddie, the Earl of Baltimore, Senior and Junior, the Ruxton Rifle, Bubba, Mad Dog, Garbage Can, Groove, The Sack Pack, Third Down Don, Hey Diddle Diddle--Lydell up the Middle, The Magician, Baby Bull, Raffy, Moose, Wild Bill, Big Wheel, Ray Ray, Goose, Sizzle, 2110 Eutaw St., Crush, Buck and Joe Cool. We also give a shout out to some of the eats and drinks that we enjoy while watching our teams. An even bigger shout out to my lovely bride Debra, who has encouraged and supported my efforts and is becoming a Baltimoron just like her husband. Thanks to all for checking us out and enjoy, Hon!
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BOB IRSAY: He took the greatest franchise in NFL history and ran it straight into the ground then snuck the team out of town under the cover of darkness. His own mother called him “The Devil on Earth.” A drunken bafoon who never should have been allowed to keep the Colts name and colors and hijack Baltimore's football history. One of the best things about the Ravens 2000 Super Bowl championship is that our Ravens won a Super Bowl before the Indy Irsays.
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NEW YORK YANKEES: Like the Borg in Star Trek, they are a collective evil but no assimilation here, Hon. They can take their 27 World Championships and stick ‘em where the sun doesn’t shine. Love that they have to pay A-Roid almost $30 million not to play anymore.
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PITTSBURGH STEELERS: The football equivalent of the Yankees. A Ravens vs Steelers lovefest is a sight to behold. Unquestionably the best rivalry in the NFL. And their fans can stick their Terrible Towels in the same place as the Yankees world championships.
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PAUL TAGLIABUE: Told the city of Baltimore, the expansion candidate with the largest television market and a financed new stadium plan, they should use their funds to build a museum. Spawned a series of franchise relocations due to his lack of foresight. Serving as league commissioner made him a living testimony that the NFL is in fact idiot-proof.
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BOSTON RED SOX: Much like the Yankees, their fans come and try and take over the Yard. They also have an annoying accent. You almost felt sorry for them going 86 years without a championship until they won the World Series and their fans acted like they were God’s gift to baseball; making them the Yankees without winning tradition.
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JOEY BAUTISTA: His arrogant bat flip after home runs has caused more than one on-field scuffle. He didn’t have a single jack in his first three seasons; including bubkis for the O’s in 2004.
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YORDANO VENTURA: In 2015, he incited three bench-clearing brawls. In 2016 his jaw received a well-deserved close encounter with Manny Machado’s fist after he drilled him in the back with a 99 mph fastball.
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JACK KENT COOKE: Hey Browns fans. If you want to be ticked about your team moving to Baltimore and becoming the Ravens, then go find Cooke’s grave and spit on it. He and Tagliabue were co-conspirators in trying to keep the NFL out of Baltimore. Then he kicks and doesn’t leave the Redskins to his sons. What a guy!
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ABE POLLIN: Alright, alright. The Baltimore Arena was and still is a dump and the Capital Centre was state of the art and beautiful, but Pollin took our Bullets away. He also traded Earl the Pearl to New York. Sacrilege.
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MARK TEXIERA: Mark, you coulda made us proud. You coulda been a local legend like Cal Jr. Then you had to say signing with the Yankees was a lifelong dream. You've earned every boo you've gotten.
The Story of a Baltimore Sports Nut
My name is Rick and I am a self-admitted sports nut. A Baltimore sports fanatic. A Baltimoron if you will. I grew up in the 60s in Newport, DE. If anybody 50-plus years old from this area tells you they are a life-long Philadelphia Eagles fan, they are a boldfaced liar. That’s because everybody loved the Baltimore Colts. Every kid wanted to be Johnny Unitas and why not. He was the greatest quarterback who ever lived. Period. Roughing the passer was non-existent during Unitas’ heyday. He had the likes of Dick Butkus, Ray Nitschke, Deacon Jones, Rosey Brown and others who made it their stated mission to hit Unitas and get him out of the game. I caught double pneumonia by playing football out in our backyard during a snowstorm; pretending to be Unitas handing off to Tom Matte (aka my buddy Joey Becker).
My favorite sport growing up, however was baseball; thanks to my grandfather. Pappaw was a diehard Phillies fan who preferred to listen to games on the radio out on the porch. I spent countless hours with him; listening to games and learning the game of baseball. The first season I remember was 1966 and I became intrigued by the team that had two Robinsons. I remember the strange look I got from Pappaw when I asked him if Brooks and Frank were brothers. The Orioles made it to the World Series that year but nobody gave them a chance against Sandy Koufax, Don Drysdale and the mighty defending World Champion Los Angeles Dodgers. Many people even thought a four-game sweep was likely, however the battle cry, “Would You Believe Four Straight” belonged to the team from Baltimore.
I would take my baseball cards and lay them out on the floor on a makeshift field with players at their respective positions. A pencil and a marble served as the bat and ball as I played many pretend baseball games with those cards; unknowingly deminishing their future value as collectibles. Ruth Bowles, a woman from my church and a diehard baseball fan, taught me how to use a scorecard to score the game.
The Becker's backyard was our Memorial Stadium; long and narrow, perfect for football and baseball with a tennis ball and whiffle ball bat. Mrs. Becker was none too happy when I crashed into the backside of her house and dented the aluminum siding. She wasn't very impressed when I told her I made a Jimmy Orr type over the shoulder catch from a Unitas-like throw by her son Lenny. As we got older, our baseball and basketball games moved to the schoolyard at the end of my street. My basketball game was in its developmental infancy; making me an Earl the Pearl Monroe without ballhandling and shooting skills.
I lost my first wager on Super Bowl III. I couldn’t believe my uncle Dick actually thought the New York Jets were going to beat my Baltimore Colts. We bet one dollar (big money back then for a 10-year-old paper boy) and I found out later that my uncle was good friends with Jets linebacker Ralph Baker, a Penn State grad and native of our family’s hometown of Lewistown, PA. I wonder if he guaranteed victory like Joe Namath did.
1969 really fueled the city of Baltimore’s inferiority complex. First the unthinkable Super Bowl loss to the Jets, then a Bullets team led by rookie of the year and MVP Wes Unseld finishing with the NBA’s best record only to get swept in four by the New York Knicks. Then, as if we needed another reason to hate New York, here come everybody’s darlings, the Amazing Mets, who took down a 109-win Orioles team four games to one in the World Series. Redemption came in 1970. I remember going on a camping vacation and meeting a family from Cincinnati. They had a son my age named Tony, who bragged on and on about Pete Rose, Joe Morgan, Johnny Bench and the Big Bopper from Birmingham Lee May. He chided me about my Orioles losing to the Mets in last year’s series and I really hoped that our two teams would meet in the World Series. Don’t think I didn’t enjoy writing a condolence letter to Tony after the Orioles came out on the right side of a five game World Series. Meanwhile, my Colts were on their way to another championship run; capped off by Jim O’Brien’s game winning field goal in Super Bowl V.
I finally made my first visit to Memorial Stadium in 1975. I loved riding through the quaint neighborhoods along Loch Raven Boulevard; marveling at all the churches of literally every denomination serving as a tribute to Maryland, the colony that was founded on religious freedom by Lord Calvert. All of a sudden, through the swath of tree-lined neighborhoods, there was 33rd St. and the magnificent sight of Memorial Stadium. Inside was the aroma of popcorn and Esskay hot dogs. I remember the tall light towers. The “Here” flag that marked where Frank Robinson hit a ball completely out of the Stadium. Then the beautiful field were Brooks, Boog, Cakes, Belanger, Blair and Grich played. We even got the Big Bopper Lee May from Cincinnati. Although the Orioles lost, I saw Hank Aaron, then with the Milwaukee Brewers, blast a home run and Earl Weaver got into an animated argument with an empire and got tossed out of the game. It was where I first ate nachos.
I loved the trip to Memorial Stadium; usually with a car or van filled with my buddies. One year the city of Baltimore, in an attempt to encourage people to keep the streets clean, ran an ad campaign urging its residents to play “trashball” by tossing garbage into trash containers on the corners like you were playing basketball. Adopting the when in Baltimore, be a Baltimoron mentality, we travelled to one game armed with a bushel of peaches. As we approached a traffic light, each of us would grab a peach and start gobbling away to get to the pit by the time we reached the next light. If we hit the light red, we rolled down the windows and started tossing multiple peach pits at the corner trash can. Imagine waiting on the corner to catch a bus and having scores of peach pits flying in your direction. Being competitive guys, we kept score and the winner enjoyed cold Natty Bohs at the expense of the losers.
I spent many happy times at the stadium on 33rd St. The World’s Largest Insane Asylum. I was part of the thundering roar from Section 34 led by Oriole Super Fan Wild Bill Hagy. I sat in the right field stands in 1976 where half the fans cheered "We love you Reggie (Jackson) and the other half (knowing he wasn't going to stay here) yelled "(Screw) you, Reggie." I enjoyed many Memorial Stadium Happy Meals (Esskay Orioles hot dog, nachos and a cold Natty Boh). I even went upscale a few times and dined at the Hit and Run Club (awesome roast beef and rice pilaf or a nice thick corned beef sandwich). I became a 13-game Sunday plan season ticket holder in 1986 with seats in section 6 behind third base where my heroes Brooks Robinson and Doug DeCinces once patrolled. I suffered through an 0-21 start in 1988 and then enjoyed the magical “Why Not” season of 1989 where the O’s nearly went from worst to first. I saw White Sox lefty and current Orioles minor league coach Wilson Alvarez toss a no-hitter against the Birds in August 1991.
Just a few weeks later, I experienced one of my greatest sports memories ever. Having a Sunday season ticket plan guaranteed me tickets to the final Orioles game at Memorial Stadium. The game itself was an uneventful loss to the Detroit Tigers but what happened after the game made sure there wasn’t a dry eye in the place. Starting with Brooks, then Frank, then Palmer, player after player from every era of Orioles baseball went out onto the field in uniform at their respective positions; to the music from the movie “Field of Dreams”. Rick Dempsey led the crowd in one final O-R-I-O-L-E-S cheer and curtain fell on baseball on 33rd street.
Once I took a group of friends up to the press box to meet legendary Orioles and Colts announcer Chuck Thompson. When security questioned us, I replied that the Rick Benson gang was here to see Mr. Thompson. Momentarily, Thompson emerged and spent several minutes talking with us and signing autographs. Acting like you belong many years later enabled me to slip into a restricted area at the Ravens first training camp and meet future Hall of Famer Jonathan Ogden.
During the final years at Memorial Stadium, I started saving more and more sports memorabilia. I began attending and helping promote memorabilia shows. Almost to a man, the Orioles I met—past and present—were great people.
Jim Palmer, Dave McNally, Al Bumbry, Eddie Murray, Paul Blair, Rick Dempsey, Mark Belanger, Boog Powell, Ken Singleton, Gus Triandos, Jim Gentile, Ron Hansen, Willie Miranda, Mike Cuellar, Luis Aparicio, Leo Gomez, Brady Anderson, Jeff Ballard, Joe Orselak, Chris Hoiles, Randy Milligan, Dave Johnson, Mike Devereau, Bob Milacki, Gregg Olsen and Mark Williamson are just some of the Oriole greats that I had the privilege to spend time with and they were all guys who were proud to play in Baltimore and appreciate the great fan support that they received. But far and away the finest gentleman I ever met in the world of sports was Brooks Robinson. I was with him on at least a half a dozen occasions and he treated every single person he met like a friend.
This leads me to probably my best experience as a Baltimore sports fan and why Brooks will always be numero uno. I had the picture here of the two of us taken at a car dealership promotional event. Several months later, I got a call from one of my buddies who said Brooks was going to be signing autographs that morning at White Marsh Mall as a promotion for Johns Hopkins hospital. I hurried up and drove down to the mall and by the time I got there, the autograph line was already several hundred deep. Brooks was only going to be there another hour and my experience from promoting card shows told me there was no way I was going to get to him before the event was finished. Even after staying an extra 15 to 20 minutes to accommodate as many fans as possible, an announcer came on and told the crowd that Brooks needed to leave and thanked everyone for coming. A wasted trip for me, or so I thought.
The crowd began to disperse and Brooks shook hands with all the people who were involved in the event. Then he stepped down from the platform and literally walked over towards me. I stepped forward to meet him and showed him the photo of us from the previous event and said I came down to get it signed. He asked me if I had a Sharpie and I didn’t bring one with me. Brooks then said “follow me” and for the next ten minutes or so, I walked through the mall with the greatest third baseman who ever lived. We talked about the current Orioles, the 1970 World Series, steamed crabs—you name it. He treated me like a lifelong friend. Along the way, several people recognized him and he shook hands with everyone who called him name. We got out to the parking lot and we walked to his car---from the dealership where I got the picture taken---and he reached in his glove box and pulled out a Sharpie and signed the picture you see here. I thanked him for his graciousness and he smiled and he thanked me for driving down to see him. What a great guy!
A few years later, I got to meet my football hero. A friend of mine was hosting a private signing with Johnny Unitas. I had the opportunity to spend a few hours with the greatest quarterback who ever lived. Johnny U was recovering from a heart attack he had a few months prior and all things considered, he looked pretty good. Much like Brooks, he was very gracious to everyone who came to the event. We talked about the rivalry with the Packers, the city chances in the expansion derby (we were both hopeful but we know how that ended), the toughest player he played against (Dick Butkus), the best defensive player in the game then (Lawrence Taylor) and then I asked him the million dollar question: “Besides you, because you are best of all time, who is the greatest quarterback ever?” Without even blinking, he replied “(Dan) Marino.” I had expected him to say Joe Montana and he continued to say, “Montana had Jerry Rice. I had Ray Berry. Marino had no one.” If that's what Johnny U thinks, who am I to disagree?
1991 Orioles finale--last game at Memorial Stadium
I went to a few Colts games in the 70s. I never got to see Unitas play as the he was moved at the end of his career in a trade to San Diego. Denying the Colts icon an opportunity to finish his career in Baltimore started a litany of pad public relations moves by team owner Robert Irsay; who eventually turned the NFL’s premier franchise into a laughingstock. In 1974, just four years removed from their Super Bowl championship season, the Colts started the season 0-3 and Irsay fired coach Howard Schnellenberger and replace him with his general manager Joe Thomas; the man who shipped Johnny U away, and the Colts proceeded to finish with a 2-14 mark. Despite Irsay’s buffoonery, the Colts rebounded under new head coach Ted Marchibroda and won three consecutive AFC East championships.
Sweet Tea and Me outside Buck Showalter's Office
NFL football wasn’t quite the same without the Colts. The Redskins were on every week and they were fun to watch during the Joe Gibbs era, but they weren’t our team. I vowed that if Baltimore got a team back; either through expansion or relocation, they would be my team. The St. Louis Cardinals got our hopes up before deciding to move to Phoenix instead. There was a far-fetched rumor that Los Angeles Rams owner Georgia Frontiere, who became owner when her husband; former Baltimore Colts owner Carroll Rosenbloom died in a swimming pool accident. Rosenbloom was the one who engineered the franchise swap that brought Robert Irsay into the league as the new Colts owner. We all know how that one turned out.
The Redskins becoming a dynasty in the late 80s and early 90s only made us Baltimorons want our own team. The Redskins tried to treat Baltimore as their own; because of their weekly sell-out crowds with a 30,000 plus waiting list, they couldn’t accommodate former Colts fans anyway. Then the NFL announced they were going to add two expansion teams from a list of cities that included Charlotte, St. Louis, Jacksonville, Memphis and Baltimore. During this time, I was doing local radio and newspaper work and I followed and covered the expansion derby quite extensively. Charlotte seemed to be a lock to get one of them as a new market. Memphis had the poorest demographics of all of the candidates and Jacksonville was a series of turnpike exits. It was between us and St. Louis. There were actually three ownership groups trying to secure the Baltimore franchise and St. Louis was having trouble keeping one together.
What I remember about the Colts were the sold-out crowds who passionately followed their beloved team. I remember the Colt Corrals, the Colts Marching Band playing the fight song. I saw many more games on TV and Unitas, Bubba Smith, John Mackey, Mike Curtis, Rick Volk, Tom Matte, Eddie Hinton, Bob Vogel and Billy Ray Smith were among my Colts heroes. I really loved Mike Curtis because he was relentless and when I played defense I wanted to play just like number 32. Unfortunately, he is more famous for clocking a drunk fan who ran out onto the field to try and steal the football during a playoff game in 1971 against the Dolphins than he was for being an outstanding middle linebacker. When I was old enough to go to games, Baltimore had a bonafide star in quarterback Bert Jones, who battled through injuries and constant unfavorable comparisons to Unitas. As Irsay continued to run the team into the ground and Jones’ supporting cast dwindled, the sell-out crowds discontinued. The city’s hatred of Irsay grew more and more as he began talking about moving the Colts to another city. No one actually believed that the NFL would allow him to do the unthinkable and move one of its storied franchises away. But they did and a part of every Baltimore sports fan died on March 28, 1984 when the Mayflower vans whisked the Colts and all they had away under the cover of darkness.
Me and Baltimore Colt Mike "Mad Dog" Curtis
In an effort to show the city’s passion for pro football, Baltimore agreed to host an NFL exhibition game in August of 1992 between the Miami Dolphins and the New Orleans Saints. During the Colts heyday, exhibition games were as popular as piano recitals but the tickets for this one sold out in less than 3 hours. I got to cover the game and it was exciting to see NFL football back on 33rd St. “Give Baltimore the Ball” was the rallying cry.
Charlotte was awarded the first expansion franchise but when the league decided to delay announcing the second team, I knew the fix was in. Baltimore already had the best package in place so why the delay? Then the NFL announced that Jacksonville was getting the other franchise. Our radio show the next day felt more like a funeral. But the whole expansion process put two other scenarios into play. Browns owner Art Modell said after the process, “Good things are going to happen for the city of Baltimore.” Nobody had any idea how that would turn out.
Meanwhile, a Washington area businessman named Jim Speros jumped into the Canadian Football League’s plan to expand into the US and secured a franchise for Baltimore. He was blocked from using the nickname Colts by the NFL, but he did everything else he could to link to Baltimore’s rich football history. The colors, the marching band, a horse-like nickname “Stallions”. After some much needed repair work to the stadium, pro football was back on 33rd street in July 1994. The Stallions enjoyed a great relationship with the city and its football starved fans, but you didn’t hear too many water cooler conversations like, “So do you like the Stallions spotting eight to Saskatchewan this weekend?”
1997 Ravens finale--last game at Memorial Stadium
Just a week before the Stallions would become the first team outside of Canada to win the Grey Cup in 1995, Modell announced that he was moving the Browns to Baltimore; thus killing the CFL in Charm City. Experiencing nationwide backlash for moving the Browns (never mind that Baltimore had its team stolen away under the cover of darkness) he decided to leave the team colors and nickname in Cleveland; something that Irsay didn’t have the class to do. The team was renamed the Ravens based on a local fan poll and purple and black became the new blue and white. September 1, 1996, the NFL was back in Baltimore where it belonged.
I bought a single ticket to that first game against the Oakland Raiders. I sat in the end zone bleachers, which were very close to the field, and Vinnie Testaverde scrambled into the end zone right in front of me for the Ravens first touchdown. Down 14-7 at halftime, the Ravens rallied and scored the winning touchdown on an eight-play, 83 yard drive to win 19-14. The Baltimore Sun headline the next day said “It Was Just a Great Day” and yes it was! I enjoyed every second of that day; there was the aroma of tailgating grills outside the stadium, there were thousands of fans clad in new purple Ravens gear, there was the crowded concourse with fans lining up to get Esskay hotdogs and beer and there was the magnificent sight of the field with Ravens logos in the end zones and on the 50 yard line. It was one big 64,124 person family reunion. I remember one guy who looked like he could be Drew Carey’s twin brother who was wearing a purple Ravens beak and was blowing into a duck (no make that Raven) call.
I went to two other games during the inaugural season of 1996 and the Ravens won both. I’ll never forget the one against the St. Louis Rams. The two teams combined for 964 yards of offense and 22 penalties. The game went into double overtime; largely due to a critical interception thrown by Testaverde. He redeemed himself by connecting with Michael Jackson on a 22 yard touchdown to win 37-31. The game lasted so long that the 4:00 games were already in their second halves and it was pitch dark on the shuttle bus back to White Marsh. All of us on the bus were exhausted and quiet until one guy blurted out, “Vinnie Blows!” and everybody cheered and applauded. I went to three more games in 1997 which would be the Ravens final season at Memorial Stadium. I went to the final game of the season against the Tennessee Oilers (yet another franchise relocation caused by Tagliabue’s lack of foresight) donned in a Ravens sweatshirt, an Orioles Starter jacket and a Baltimore Colts cap to honor the teams that graced 33rd St. I bought an extra ticket from a scalper who was unaware of the value of an unused ticket to the last sporting event at our hallowed stadium. Derrick Alexander snared a 15-yard pass from Eric Zeier for the Ravens final score in a 21-19 final. Many of the old Baltimore Colts, fittingly led by Johnny Unitas, donned throwback jerseys and took the field for one last time. Just like the Orioles last game there 6 years earlier, it was a time to shed some tears.
A TRIBUTE TO COACH BROCK
I couldn’t write a book or create a website without giving a major shout out to long-time Cecil County, MD baseball coach Charles Richard “Dick” Brockell Jr. I covered Cecil Co. sports for local newspapers and radio stations and my first article for the Wilmington News Journal was about Brockell’s Cecil Seahawks, who later renamed their stadium in 2011 after their long-time coach and athletic director. Brockell won 404 games in his 20 seasons as Head Coach at Cecil College. He also managed the Cecil Braves Semi-Pro team for 50 years and helped send dozens of local players on to professional baseball; including left handed pitcher Wayne Franklin who played in the majors with the Houston Astros, Milwaukee Brewers and New York Yankees.
He was also a sportswriter so he understood the joys and challanges of being a member of the fourth estate. We established a special bond and he knew he could trust me and be honest with me with complete confidence that I wouldn't betray his trust.
Coach Brock reminded me so much of my grandfather because of his love of the game. He was originally signed out of Elkton High by the Pittsburgh Pirates and after serving in the Army later played in the Cincinnati Reds minor league system; where he roomed with none other than should be Hall of Famer Pete Rose. Sadly, he never realized his dream of playing in the majors but instead devoted his life to coaching and promoting the game of baseball.
I covered many of his games and interviewed him countless times but what I enjoyed most about Coach Brock was just hanging out after a game and talking about baseball and life. He was sort of a father figure to me during a time when I really needed one. When he found out my birthday was four days after his, he put his arm around my shoulder and with a smile that he saved only for those he loved he said to me, “All great men are born Leos.” Sadly, I lost touch with Coach Brock and he passed away in the fall of 2013 at the age of 79. But he left many; including this young old-timer sportswriter, a lifetime of memories.
Now looking back at the Orioles, I enjoyed and continue to enjoy great times and memories at Oriole Park at Camden Yards. As a partial season-ticket holder, I was entered in a lottery for Opening Day tickets and was hoping I’d get selected. I had pretty much given up hope until less than two weeks from the opener, I got a notice in the mail that I had been selected to purchase two tickets to the first game in the Orioles new home. I had to be at the ballpark the following Monday and while waiting in line to present my invoice, I was interviewed on WMAR-TV2 and appeared on the evening news. I also had a chance to go inside the ballpark and find my Sunday plan seats behind the left field foul pole. The Warehouse on Eutaw St. was larger than life and you could tell that the seats were much closer to the field. This was going to be the House That Cal Jr. Built. I bought tons of Opening Day souvenirs; including a limited addition Opening Day pennant for my buddy Steve Monjon, who owns a baseball card shop in Newark, DE. He displayed the pennant in his shop and turned down a multitude of offers from collectors to buy it from him. Not for sale!
The game itself was amazing. Orioles starter Rick Sutcliffe pitched a complete game 2-0 shutout over the Cleveland Indians. My seats were in the highest section in right field---it seemed like I was eyeball with the top of the warehouse---but it didn’t matter. I was once again at a historical Baltimore sports moment. I was at another a year later as the All-Star game came to Camden Yards. My favorite part of the All-Star game is the pre-game player introductions and thanks to running into some of my baseball buddies from Elkton and enjoying the bill of fare at Hooters at the Inner Harbor, I missed the intros and barely made it there by first pitch. I also missed Kirby Puckett’s home run because I ran into former Oriole and Delaware native Dave May in the beer line on the concourse. I didn’t miss the 47,000 plus Cito Sucks chant that is chronicled elsewhere on this site.
Being a season ticket holder during this time was a plus. My Sunday plan enabled me to enjoy a multitude of good times with friends and some pretty good baseball as the O’s began to assemble a championship-quality team. Brady Anderson emerged as a lead-off hitter with power. They signed Rafael Palmeiro and Robbie Alomar to free agent deals. They signed Maryland native Harold Baines. Mike Mussina emerged as the staff ace and Jimmy Key and David Wells were added to bolster the rotation. The team’s emerging success along with the state-of-the art ballpark made an Orioles game ticket a hot commodity. I enjoyed many Sunday excursions to the Yard as well as some postgame stops for refreshments at many local establishments.
The Orioles had success in the mid 90s; advancing to the ALCS in 1996 and going wire-to-wire in first in 1997. I went to game 2 of the ALCS in 1997 against Cleveland and I have never seen a louder and crazier crowd at a baseball game. There were probably another 100,000 plus outside the stadium; adding to the raucous atmosphere. The O’s had a 4-2 lead and the Yard was rocking and I was at the game with my radio broadcast partner Joe Vietri and our studio engineer Sean Skelley. Right there, the three of us vowed that when (not if) the Orioles won the World Series, we were each going to get Oriole tattoos. As soon as we shook on it, Marquis Grissom hit a three-run bomb off Armando Benitez to give the Indians the lead. The O’s lost 5-4 and went on to lose the series in 6 games. To this day, I still believe Baltimore would have beaten the Marlins and won the 1997 World Series.
The Four Horsemen of National Bohemian: Sean Skelley, Joe Goodrick, Yours Truly and Joe Vietri front and center (Don't let the Eagles gear fool you--he loves the O's)
Buck Showalter wasn’t just another in the litany of mediocre managerial hires that included Mike Hargrove, Lee Mazzilli and Dave Trembley. He was an astute strategist who added immediate status and credibility. He teamed with General Manager Andy McPhail and then Dan Duquette to build a playoff quality team that reached the post season in 2012, 2014 and 2016. Although he bears a slight resemblance to Earl Weaver and is certainly an equally accomplished manager who also knows how to maximize the talent on his team, he is a vastly different person. Buck is a player’s manager who is much more soft-spoken but definitely in charge. Earl’s sarcastic, biting tongue and combative personality wouldn’t play well in today’s major league dugouts. While the crowds haven’t returned to the sellout levels that occurred before the Belle curse, being an Orioles fan doesn’t bring forth scorn and contempt as the team has become relevant once again. For this young old-timer, the current crop of talent---Manny Machado, Chris Davis, Adam Jones, Jonathan Schoop. JJ Hardy, Chris Tillman, Zach Britton and others---brings as much excitement as Brooks, Boog, Frank. Cakes, Eddie and Junior and other who were my heroes.
I also believe that the subsequent futility of Orioles baseball that lasted until Buck Showalter was hired as manager was the curse of signing Albert Belle to a contract in 1998 that was double what Cal Ripken Jr. was being paid. A black cloud hung over the warehouse with Belle’s surly attitude and disposition that continued on with a litany of mediocre players. Brook Fordyce, Chris Richard, Sidney Ponson, Doug Johns, Chris Singleton, Scott Moore and my personal favorite Cory Doyne were just a sample of the stiffs that took the field and prompted attendance and position in the standings to plummet. Adding to the fan base’s growing disenchantment with owner Peter Angelos was the knowledge that he was pocketing millions of dollars in legal fees from asbestos and tobacco lawsuits and not putting hardly anything back into improving the team. Though I would never openly root against the O’s, my interest in them diminished considerably; especially upon learning that he was a major contributor to a political party and sources that I can’t support. What was exceptionally telling was that local star Mark Teixeira--a graduate of Mount Saint Joseph High School--didn’t even really consider signing with Baltimore in 2009; instead choosing the hated Yankees. The stretch of irrelevance continued. And then came Buck.
Meanwhile, as the Orioles plummeted into and subsequently rose out of the ashes of mediocrity; the Ravens have established themselves as Baltimore’s favorite team and re-ignited the city’s passion for pro football. The capacity crowds clad in purple and black have now made M&T Bank Stadium the latest Charm City version of the World’s Largest Outdoor Insane Asylum. Mr. Raven Ray Lewis leads the team out of the tunnel and launches into his now infamous “Squirrel Dance” and the crowd noise from the Raven Maniacs can be heard all the way to Harborplace. The Ravens have the perfect front office mix---an owner with deep pockets who lets his football people make the decisions (pay attention Dan Snyder and Jerry Jones), a general manger who manages the salary cap with precision, collegiate scouting personnel who assure solid draft picks are made and a head coach who manages the game and has the respect of the players. The Ravens offices even have an appropriate and fitting address--- 1 Winning Drive. They have been playoff contenders almost every year since the 2000 season and if they stick to their formula, Charm City football fanatics will have lots to be happy about.
I do want to mention my experiences with the Bullets and the Civic Center/Baltimore Arena/First Mariner Bank Arena/Royal Farms Arena (gotta love corporate sponsorship and Royal Farms has bangin’ fried chicken!). I never got to see the Baltimore Bullets play live but I watched them on TV and I was all about Unseld, Johnson, Marin, Loughery and my favorite Earl the Pearl Monroe. I love hitting fade away baseline jumpers when I played basketball but as I got taller (I’m 6-5) I lost my good ball-handling moves; not that I ever reminded anyone of the Pearl! Monroe getting traded to the Knicks was my first experience seeing a favorite player traded away. I didn’t like it. It was like Brooks getting traded to the Yankees or Johnny U going to the Packers. Yuk! Then a couple of years later, the Bullets left Baltimore and moved into the brand new, state-of-the-art Capital Centre in Landover which they shared with the NHL expansion Washington Capitals. One look at the new arena and you couldn’t blame the Bullets for leaving. It was actually a sign of things to come. New stadiums and new arenas provide better fan experience and decrease the likelihood of a team leaving.
Let’s face it, the Civic Center/Arena was and still is a dump. It’s small. It’s poorly lit. The parking lot underneath it is dingy and looks like a crime scene. The Bullets, in an attempt to reel in its Baltimore fan base, started playing a few games a year there and it definitely spurred my interest again in the team. Oh, and one other thing---it is hot as blast furnace inside (maybe that’s where the indoor soccer Blast got their nickname). I went to a Bullets game there against the 76ers around Christmas time and it was so hot in there that I stripped down to my T-shirt. The Bullets of the late 80s-early 90s had a few good players; particularly leading scorer Bernard King. Even though the Bullets managed to win an NBA title in 1978, they have largely been mediocre for the last forty plus years I blame this on the curse of trading Earl Monroe to the Knicks. The Bullets reunited college stars and Michigan teammates Chris Webber and Juwan Howard and that didn’t do the trick. Heck, even the great Michael Jordan couldn't raise this franchise from the dead. When owner Abe Pollin decided to change the team name in 1997 due to the gun violence in DC and coincide with the team’s move to the downtown MCI Center, it felt like a good time to for me to exit. My Bullets were no more. Plus, I cannot stand meaningless political correctness. Did anyone really believe that the city’s basketball team nickname enticed people to go out and shoot each other? And if the nickname is so bad, why did the team continue to sell Bullets throwback jerseys? (Answer—Money talks and BS walks). So much like those sad days between the Colts departure and the Ravens arrival when there was no NFL football in Baltimore, I now watch NBA games with neutrality or as my sweet Southern Belle wife Debra would say, “I have no dog in this hunt.”
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Me and the Bee--Al Bumbry
Me and Ken Singleton
I do have great fondness for my days as a sports writer and broadcaster. I covered sports in Cecil County where local rivalries made for some great stories. A few from the county did make it to the majors; including Larry Webster who played on the Ravens first Super Bowl champion team, John Mabry who broke in with the St. Louis Cardinals and replaced Mark McGwire as their hitting coach after a 14-year playing career and Bobby Jones who is retiring this season as a coach for the Texas Rangers year after 50 years in professional baseball; including nine as a major league player. I covered high school football in the early to mid 90s for local newpapers and I also became a halftime guest and color commentator on WSER radio. The guys from the radio station, who are the other three guys that comprise the four horseman of National Bohemian, dubbed me the “Halftime Guest Extraordinare” and they were being far too kind. I also worked with Paul Mittermeier, who has worked for several stations in Baltimore covering the Ravens and the Blast and is also currently the Director of Communications for the Ed Block Courage Awards foundation.
I really bonded with coaches as a sports writer. I admired the impact they had in kids’ lives; especially knowing that many didn’t have particularly good home lives. I made it a point to meet every coach before I covered their team. Coaches were rarely neutral in expressing their opinion of the newspaper or radio station you represented and I tried to never be shocked at what I heard. I also let them know that while I considered myself knowledgeable and a student of the game, they as coaches knew more than I did. Humility really does stand out as a character trait. I had the opportunity to watch game film with some coaches and let them teach me what they were looking for and the tendencies that they spotted. Because I always tried to build relationships in the scope of my work, I was often rewarded with inside information and breaking stories during a time when if you got the story first, your competition had to wait until the following day’s edition to tell it.
One of the coolest experiences I ever had was after covering a game and filing my story, I started talking with one of the local football coaches. We were the only two people left at the field. We started walking the field and talking about life, our goals and dreams, our most memorable moments, the things that we liked the most about football and the people who had influenced our lives. As we did this, he shared with me that he took every single senior that ever played for him on this same walk around the field and how he talked with them about the same things we had been talking about. Why did he do this? Because he said that for every lesson you learn in the classroom, you learn ten more out on the field. And I agree.
I also did a daily morning sports report for the station where I could call in and talk sports with Joe Goodrick; armed with my morning coffee and newspapers. Radio does give you license to speak more freely and in depth without the copy space limitation of newspaper. Being colorful and off-the-wall seemed like a natural by-product of being behind the mic. I met a lot of terrific people covering local sports. One of the best compliments I’ve ever received was from a high school principal who told me the highlight of his Saturday morning was sitting out on his porch and enjoying a cup of coffee and reading my article on Friday night’s game. I also met a few crazy ones too. It’s amazing how some people could think you are responsible for their newspaper not getting delivered or blast you because you didn’t include little Johnny’s name in your article when he barely played in the game and didn’t make any significant contribution. I blame that on the “Every Kid Gets a Trophy” syndrome which explains much of what is wrong in today's society.
I am also blessed to have been a sports writer during a time when there was real sports reporting. While it is somewhat admirable that today’s athletes are using their fame as a platform for raising awareness of various social causes (most of them positive), I feel that the game itself sometimes gets lost in the sauce. The E in ESPN stands for entertainment and they were certainly pioneers in blending sports and pop culture. I just don’t know if that’s always a good thing. The 30 for 30 documentaries are some of the best stories ever told. Yet with that we’ve also gotten inundated with updates about folks like Dennis Rodman, Terrell Owens, Michael Sam, Johnny Manziel, Colin Kaepernick and yes even one of my favorite people—Tim Tebow, who are more noteworthy off the field than on it.
I learned from reading stuff written by the best sportswriters in the business. Baltimore was a treasure trove of great sports writing. National baseball journalists such as Ken Rosenthal, Tim Kurkjian and Buster Olney cut their teeth at the Baltimore Sun. John Steadman, Vito Stellino and Mike Preston are as good as anyone who has ever covered the gridiron.
While the internet has provided almost instant access to sports news, scores and game results, I believe the quality of sports writing has diminished. Accuracy of reporting is also not what it used to be. But again, there are many positives with today’s sports journalism. Roch Kubatko of MASN.com is now, in my opinion, the premier baseball reporter in Charm City. God bless him; his posts start as early as 5 am and that is after blogging about the previous night’s game. He brings great insight and a little humor to Orioles fans and he’s very approachable. I enjoy his writings with my morning coffee just like that principal enjoyed mine.
Once I sat down and pondered why I love sports so much. There are so many reasons but the biggest one is it brings people together. Being a sports fan doesn’t require a specific socio-economic status. It isn’t limited by race, religion, gender or ethnic background. If two people love sports, they will always have something to talk about. Sports, more than anything else, broke down racial divide when I was growing up and it still continues to allow me to bond with more people than I can count. The quality of my life and my friendships are most certainly enhanced by my love of sports.
Me and brother Mike---on the mike at 2017 Fanfest
Celebrating the Baltimore Blast's 9th title with coach Danny Kelly
Stack/Benson combo enjoying a Yankee Spanky
So now at this juncture in my life, I am still a hardcore sports nut and student of the game. I don’t do fantasy sports because I am a true fan of my teams. I’m not saying fantasy players aren’t true sports fans, I’m just saying I can’t be both. If I had to draft Ben Roethlisberger to win my fantasy football league, I just couldn’t do it. Same with taking a Yankee, Red Sox or Blue Jay in fantasy baseball. No can do.
Admittedly, I have a little extra spring in my step when the Orioles and Ravens are winning. My adopted brother Mike Stack and I watch a lot of Orioles baseball and the Benson/Stack combo usually spells victory when we go to the Yard. I’m also enjoying building sports memories with my daughter Amanda and niece Gwen. Amanda has decided Manny Machado is her favorite Oriole while Gwen has developed a passionate dislike for our AL East rivals; especially Toronto. My wife Debra has also embraced being a Baltimore fan. To rewrite the lyrics from John Mellencamp’s “Small Town”, I’d sing “Married a Tennessee Southern Belle and brought her to Charm City and now she’s a Baltimoron just like me.” Debra is just straight up awesome. I told her right from the get-go my passion for Baltimore sports as well as Florida Gators football and she puts great effort into learning and understanding the games. She also enjoys the stories behind the stories so I suspect she will be a frequent visitor to this webpage.
Creating this website has been a walk down memory lane, a remembrance of great games and legendary athletes, a study of failed teams and franchises and a few only ifs. I am thrilled to have met every single Orioles, Colts and Ravens Hall of Famer. I’ve attended an ALCS, the opening of two stadiums, the football and baseball finales at Memorial Stadium, an All Star game, the “Give Baltimore the Ball” exhibition game that proved that Charm City deserved an NFL franchise, the city’s first venture into Canadian football and was there when Cal Jr. decided to end the Streak. I’m looking forward to many, many more great memories as a certified, hardcore Baltimoron. So let’s have a Polock Johnny’s with the works and a cold Natty Boh and enjoy the game, Hon!
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BALTIMORE COLTS FIGHT SONG
BALTIMORE COLTS HIGHLIGHTS NFL FILMS
BLACK AND PURPLE--RAVENS EDITION
WORLD OF ORIOLES BASEBALL
TALKIN' BASEBALL AND THE O'S
RAVENS SEVENTH NATION ARMY
BALTIMORE HOCKEY HISTORY
1979 ORIOLES MAGIC
1997 WIRE-TO-WIRE. THE O'S ON FIRE
ORIOLES MAGIC--FEEL IT HAPPEN
2012 ORIOLES--I'M GLAD YOU CAME
BLACK AND PURPLE--PLAYOFF EDITION
HOW 'BOUT THEM O'S (great song--needs update!)
DON'T MISS THE MAGIC--ORIOLES 2016
71,000 RAVENS FANS IN UNISON
BALTIMORE FOOTBALL HISTORY
1970 BALTIMORE COLTS--ESPN CLASSICS
BALTIMORE BRIGADE FIRST HOME WIN
BALTIMORE RAVENS FIGHT SONG
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 brigade 19 |  baltimore 55 |  skipjacks 2 |
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WEBSITE CREDITS: Articles credited to original author as noted. Others from Wikipedia, Sports Encyclopedia and The Pro Football Hall of Fame. Photos from Google Images. Videos from YouTube. All Rights Reserved.