Saturday, March 29, 2014

It was 30 years ago today...




...no, not Sgt. Pepper.  Thirty years ago today, in the dead of night amidst a late season snowstorm, the worst thing that could ever happen to a Baltimore Colts fan happened - Robert Irsay took the team, along with it's colors and history, to Indianapolis.  

Irsay acquired the Colts in 1972 after buying the then Los Angeles Rams and trading them for the Colts that same day.  The Colts were an impressive franchise back then.  The team sold out 51 straight games in the 1960s and won the Super Bowl in 1971.  During Irsay’s first year of ownership, attendance averaged at more than 60,000 fans.  But that would change.
Irsay fired the coach who had won the Super Bowl just two seasons earlier and later traded away the legendary Johnny Unitas.  Irsay’s decisions damaged the team’s reputation to the point where, in 1983, the Colts drafted John Elway—the top college draft pick then—but he refused to sign.  Instead, he said he’d rather play baseball for the Yankees.  That forced Irsay to trade Elway to the Denver Broncos, where he became one of the best NFL quarterbacks of all-time.
By the time the Colts left Baltimore, the team had six straight losing seasons. Attendance had plummeted to an average of only 42,000 fans per game.  As sportswriter Frank Deford put it, “A man who could screw up professional football in Baltimore would foul the water at Lourdes or flatten the beer at Munich.”
During this decline, Irsay repeatedly flirted with moving the team to Phoenix, Memphis, Los Angeles, Jacksonville and Indianapolis, all while emphatically denying he was going to leave. 
On March 27, 1984, the Maryland Senate voted 38 to 4 to approve legislation, which would allow Baltimore to seize the team.
Many of those who face eminent domain can’t pack up their homes and businesses and skip town.  But Irsay could.  The very next day, he called Indianapolis Mayor William Hudnut and told him the Colts were moving to Indianapolis.
Upon hearing the news, Mayor Hudnut called his neighbor, who owned Mayflower Transit, to send 15 trucks, free of charge, to the Colts’ facilities in Owing Mills, Md.  Late Wednesday night, the vans pulled in.  In the midnight hours, the team gathered everything they could and loaded the trucks as quickly as possible.
Many staffers and players weren’t even informed the Colts were breaking away.  According to one employee, after the move, “everything was gone…not a piece of paper or a trash can was left.”

To avoid arousing suspicion and to evade any Maryland police, each truck tookdifferent routes out of the state.  When the sun dawned on March 29, the team was gone.  Once the trucks reached the Indiana state line, Indiana state troopers escorted the convoy to Indianapolis.
The move stunned Baltimore Colts fans.  Mayor Schaefer cried when he found out the Colts absconded.  Some fans bought “Bob Irsay Sucks” t-shirts.  Mayflower trucks were boycotted in Baltimore and vandalized.  One Maryland resident even wrote to Mayor Hudnut asking him to change the name of an Indianapolis street from “Maryland” to “Irsay:”  “We in the great state of Md., do not want your city to have our state’s name on your streets…You owe us one.”
Just hours after the team had left, Maryland’s governor signed the eminent domain bill on March 29.  The next day, with this new power, the city began condemnation proceedings against the Colts.
Meanwhile, Indianapolis was ecstatic.  On April 2, 20,000 fans, including Hudnut, Irsay and U.S. Senator (and future Vice President) Dan Quayle, attended a welcoming ceremony for the Colts at Hoosier Dome.  Ticket demand was high.  For every season ticket, the Indianapolis Colts received nearly three requests.  Hudnut later described delivering the Colts to Indianapolis as “the most exciting part” of his four terms as mayor.
A year-and-a-half after the midnight move, a federal judge dismissed the case in December 1985, ruling that Baltimore “lacks the power to condemn the Colts’ franchise… the Court concludes that the Colts were ‘gone’ on March 30, 1984.”  Crossing state lines let the team escape Baltimore’s power of eminent domain.  Tellingly, the team did not challenge the condemnation as an inappropriate “public use.”  In March 1986, Hudnut announced a settlement between the two cities.  Litigation cost $400,000 for Indianapolis and racked up half a million dollars in legal bills for Baltimore.
Even after the Colts left, Charm City’s passion for football never died.  The city hosted teams from both the short-lived United States Football League and, rather surreally, the Canadian Football League.  For a dozen years, the Baltimore Colts Marching Band continued to play on and even performed at other NFL teams’ halftimes, as shown in the ESPN documentary The Band That Wouldn’t Die.  Finally, after a dozen years of waiting, Baltimore became home once again to an NFL team, the Baltimore Ravens in 1996, after Art Modell relocated the Cleveland Browns.

30 years on, Baltimore better without Colts

March, 28, 2014

By Jamison Hensley | ESPN.com

BALTIMORE -- Saturday marks the 30th anniversary of the most infamous day in Baltimore sports history. 

On March 29, 1984, the Colts sneaked out of Baltimore on a snowy night and left a football town in mourning. Grown men and women cried. People drove around the city the next morning with their headlights on as if somebody died. 

"It's one of those few moments in life that you vividly remember," said John Moag, who later lured the Cleveland Browns to Baltimore as chairman of the Maryland Stadium Authority. "You hate to put it up with the assassination of John Kennedy, but it had that type of import here." 

No one is suggesting Baltimore football fans should forgive. There is still a likeness of the late Colts owner Robert Irsay's head in a casket at a downtown Mexican restaurant. 

No one is saying they should forget. An older generation of fans considers the old Colts complex, where the Mayflower moving vans drove away with Baltimore's football heritage, as sacred ground even though it's now a stadium for a Division III college. 

It's just time to put this date in perspective. Three decades later, Baltimore is better off without the Colts. This is no longer blasphemy to say. This is simply reality. 

Baltimore has sold out every game in a state-of-the-art stadium in one of the finest sports complexes in the country, something that was expedited by the Colts' hasty departure. The city has celebrated two Super Bowl titles with the Ravens, one more than the Indianapolis Colts have. The football team is owned by Steve Bisciotti, the anti-Robert Irsay in many respects. He's a local businessman who spends money to put a perennial winner on the field. 

"On game days, I look around, and it sounds dumb, but I just get a big smile on my face. We did it," said John Ziemann, the longtime president of the Baltimore Colts marching band, who served as one of the main torchbearers for getting football back to the city. "The fans, the Colts Corral, the band, the Baltimore Colts alumni and [former mayor] William Donald Schaefer, we all did it." 

The only pain that exists is the sting from losing tradition. Those who carried years of anger and bitterness toward the blue horseshoe were missing the Colts from the 1950s and 1960s. There's not much nostalgia for the Irsay years. He got rid of Johnny Unitas in his second year as owner and traded away John Elway before the owner's final season in Baltimore. 

The Baltimore Colts had losing seasons in nine of Irsay's 12 seasons as owner, and Memorial Stadium soon became more than half empty. The announced crowd at the Colts' last home game was 20,418. 

Once a model franchise, the Colts became a laughingstock under Irsay, who stormed into the locker room during a game in 1980 to demand a quarterback change at halftime and then called plays from the coaching box a year later. 

"When I see that horseshoe helmet, I think of the great memories, the pride, the tradition and the love I had for that team," Ziemann said. "But my heart belongs to the black and purple helmet." 

Under the cover of darkness 

[+] EnlargeRobert Irsay
AP Photo/Bill SmithRumors swirled about the Colts moving in early 1984. Here, then-owner Robert Irsay had a heated exchange with reporters, denying a rumor he'd made a deal to move the team to Phoenix.
It had been rumored for weeks in March 1984 that Irsay was going to move the Colts. No one believed him. Many thought Irsay's erratic behavior and odd demands would keep the Colts in Baltimore. 

That perception changed when The Baltimore Evening Sun reporter Ken Murray received a call at 7 p.m. from a man who saw a Mayflower van heading toward the Colts' complex. Murray called Colts coach Frank Kush, who acknowledged the team was in the process of moving. 

"It was a surreal scene," said Murray, the first reporter to arrive on the scene. "I remember feeling a numbness, not from the cold, but from the realization it was actually happening. I was standing in on history, watching the physical dismantling of one of the NFL's greatest franchises. A handful of people had gathered, as much in curiosity as anything else. It was solemn and funeral-like." 

Steve LaPlanche, who hasn't missed a professional football game in Baltimore since 1956, drove out to the Colts' complex that night when he received word of the move and watched men load 15,000 pounds of Colts items in 15 Mayflower vans. The Colts were in a rush to get out of town because the Maryland Senate had just passed a bill saying the state had the right to seize the Colts under eminent domain. 

"They always reminded me of thieves in the night," said LaPlanche, who stayed there the entire night. "They were literally throwing things in vans." 

For 12 years, Baltimore didn't have an NFL team. The city, though, found a new team to support. 

"Fans here generally rooted for whichever team played the Colts on any given Sunday," Murray said. "The emotion was almost tangible. There was also real anger directed at the league and its owners, because they had allowed Bob Irsay to get away with his dastardly deed. Those owners didn't appear to have any remorse about it, either." 

Keeping the Baltimore Colts memory alive 

When children walk through the Sports Legends museum, some ask why there is an Indianapolis Colts exhibit. 

"We explain the whole situation to them," said Ziemann, who is also the deputy director of the museum, "and the last thing you see is the back end of a Mayflower moving van." 

THE BAND THAT WOULDN'T DIE


Academy Award winner Barry Levinson tells the story of Baltimore's heartbreak when the Colts bolted for Indy through the eyes of the Colts Marching Band.

• "The Band That Wouldn't Die"
• 30 for 30 home page
There are some young football fans who don't know the Baltimore Colts ever existed or that one of the greatest quarterbacks in NFL history threw passes here. Memorial Stadium, once known as "The World's Largest Outdoor Insane Asylum," has been demolished and replaced with senior housing. 

This is what happens when the Colts have been gone for 30 years, which is as long as they played in Baltimore (1953-1983). Even Super Bowl-winning quarterback Joe Flacco was born 10 months after the Colts moved. 

"We’re essentially losing a generation of Colts fans," Moag said. "There are residents in their 30s and 40s, and all they know is the Ravens." 

The Baltimore Colts' living history is deteriorating, too. Hall of Fame players such as Unitas, Art Donovan and Jim Parker have all passed away after being fixtures in the community. 

When the former Baltimore Colts players met once a month, it used to be a gathering of 25 guys. Time has taken a toll on their fraternity. 

"Now, unfortunately, through death of some of our brothers, we're down to three to five who come to a meeting," said Bruce Laird, a safety for the Colts from 1972 to 1981. 

So many years have passed that there is even a Unitas living in Indianapolis. The granddaughter of the Golden Arm was hired by Andretti Sports Marketing, and the relocation didn't initially go over well with the family. 

"I was dumbfounded," said John Unitas Jr., the son of the great quarterback. "I told her, 'Oh my God, they took the Colts, they took your grandfather’s records, and now they’re taking his granddaughter.' " 

Don't worry Baltimore, she's not a fan of the Indianapolis Colts. 

Moving forward with the Ravens 

Baltimore tried to get an NFL team through expansion in 1995, but the league put franchises in Carolina and Jacksonville. NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue suggested Baltimore use its money to build a museum or a plant instead. 

If the city wanted football again, it was going to have to do exactly what Indianapolis did with the Colts. In 1996, Art Modell relocated the Cleveland Browns to Baltimore, leaving the name and history behind. On March 29, 1996 -- exactly 12 years after the Colts moved -- Baltimore's new football team was officially named Ravens. 

Wary of the feelings that Modell had just "Irsayed" Cleveland, the Ravens embraced the Baltimore Colts. A Unitas statue was built outside M&T Bank Stadium. Former Colts players Tom Matte and Stan White have been part of the radio broadcast team. Popular Colts running back Lenny Moore is a frequent visitor to Ravens practices. The team also adopted the Baltimore Colts marching band. 

“The Modells came in and said, ‘We’re not here to erase your history; we’re here to add to it,’ ” Ziemann said. 

The Ravens now have a history of their own after completing their 17th season in Baltimore. Jonathan Ogden recently became the first player drafted by the Ravens to reach the Hall of Fame, and Ray Lewis and Ed Reed are expected to join him. The Ravens have reached the playoffs in five of the past six seasons, including three AFC Championship Games and one Super Bowl victory. 

It's a new tradition of success for a new generation of fans. The average age for Ravens personal seat license owners is 53, which means many Ravens fans were in their early 20s when the Colts left. 

"We’ve got one of youngest demographics in the league for a reason," Bisciotti said. "The Ravens came in and a lot of 60-year-olds were not prepared to support us. Well, they’re pushing 80 now. I think we won over half of them because of winning and half of them are dead." 

Some believe the hatred for the horseshoe diminished when Irsay died in 1997. Others believe closure occurred when the Ravens won the Super Bowl in 2000. 

The true test that Baltimore was over the Colts came during the 2012 playoffs. This game wasn't about the Ravens beating Indianapolis for the first time in the postseason. It will be remembered as the final home game for Ray Lewis, the best player in Ravens history. 

The Ravens went on to hoist their second Lombardi Trophy that season, giving Baltimore another chance to celebrate making history and not commiserate about it.http://espn.go.com/blog/baltimore-ravens/post/_/id/8002/30-years-later-baltimore-better-without-colts

THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOUR HOME TEAM LEAVES

Thirty years ago this weekend, the Baltimore Colts packed up in Mayflower moving trucks and fled to Indianapolis for good. Comedian Ryan Sickler tells the funny story about one of the worst nights of his life.

By Ryan Sickler on March 27, 2014

I remember the first time I saw my dad cry. That’s a huge moment in a boy’s life. There was nothing I hadn’t seen him handle. I knew it was serious.
For a while, my father was a single dad with three boys. I have a younger brother who’s almost four years younger, along with twin brother. We’re fraternal twins, but we did have identical twin beds.
(That line kills at twin conventions.) 
We grew up in Maryland and, in 1983, the Colts were still in Baltimore. And they meant everything to our city. They were NFL Champions with legends like Johnny Unitas, Raymond Berry, Lenny Moore, and Gino Marchetti.
The Colts were loved, and they were ours. And I was crazy about them. I played tackle football in my plastic Colts helmet. When it was cold, I wore my Colts winter jacket. I went to sleep in my Colts pajamas.
One day during the 1983 season, my dad took us to a Colts practice. Back then it was nothing like it is now. The players were approachable. Not just for autographs. They would talk to you, like people.
I remember standing on the sideline when a receiver, Raymond Butler, asked me if I wanted to play catch. 
Did I want to play catch with a Baltimore Colt?
Hell yes I wanted to play catch with a Baltimore Colt! Next thing I know, I’m on the sideline tossing the ball with Raymond Butler. He mentioned that maybe next year when the new season rolled around I could be a ball boy if I was interested.
Did I want to be a ball boy for the Baltimore Colts?
Hell yes I wanted to be a ball boy for the Baltimore Colts!
My father saw what was going on and came over. My brothers came with him. 
Raymond Butler was a nice guy and when he saw my brothers he said to my father, “I didn’t realize you had three boys. I’m not sure it would be fair for just one to be a ballboy.”
My dad saw the look on my face. And he saw an opportunity. He knew how bad I wanted this. 
“The hell with those two," he said. "You asked Ryan. That’s life. If they wouldn’t have been over there screwing around they could’ve been playing catch with you — getting me season tickets, like my new favorite son.”
At that moment, my dad was excited as I was. One conversation later, he tells me that I’m going to be a ball boy for the 1984 Baltimore Colts.
Fall turns to winter. The 1983 season ends. 
On March 29, 1984, three weeks after my eleventh birthday, on a cold, snowy night, I was sound asleep in my identical twin bed next to my fraternal twin brother and my father shook me awake. 
“Hey. Hey! Wake up,” he says. “The Colts are gone.”
I’m still groggy, so I don’t really know what he’s saying. I mean, I think I do, but there’s no way I heard what I think I heard. He repeats.
“The Colts are gone.” 
“Wait. What? What do you mean the Colts are gone? They were here today.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but they’re packed up in Mayflower moving trucks and headed west into the black.”
“The Colts are gone?”
“The Colts are gone.”
My father, my brothers, and I run downstairs to watch the news and there, just like my dad said, are the Mayflower moving trucks rolling out of town into the blackness.
I looked over at my dad and he had tears streaming down his face as he sat watching his season tickets drive away on his television. I’m crying. The ball boy gig is gone.
My brothers are crying. We’re all crying. Our Colts are gone. I looked at my dad. 
“Dad. You didn’t cry when mom said she was leaving.” 
“I can marry another woman,” he said. “That’s something I can help control. I don’t know if we’ll ever see football in this town again.”  
Now, I know that some of you aren’t sports fans. I know some of you are and you’ve never lost your team like that. So let me put this in perspective for you: Let’s say you’re home sleeping tonight — hopefully not in an identical twin bed — and someone shakes you awake to say this:
“Hey. Hey! Titties are gone!” 
You’d be like, “Wait. What?” 
“Titties are gone.”
“What do you mean titties are gone? Titties were here today.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, but they packed up in Mayflower moving trucks and they’re headed west into the black.”
“Titties are gone?”
“Titties are gone.”
Imagine that.
You go home tonight, and when you wake up tomorrow we enter a titty-less era. With no end in sight.
That would be devastating. Everyone loves titties. Women love titties. Men love titties. Hell, babies need titties. I have nightmares about the questions people born during the titty-less era would ask me.
Then, in 1996, after a 12-year drought, the Cleveland Browns moved to Baltimore and became the Baltimore Ravens. The truth is I was excited to have football back in Baltimore, but I wasn’t excited about how we got the new team. I wasn’t crazy about getting a team from another city because I knew what it felt like to lose my team.
But before Baltimore got the Ravens, my father died. He was 42. 
My father died young, in a titty-less era.
To this day, I carry that with me. No matter where I am in the country, any time I see a Mayflower moving truck I give that guy the finger. And that dude is always like, “What the hell did I do?" 
“You know what the fk you did,” I scream. “You crushed my dreams, helped kill my dad and took titties!”

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