Everything sucks. Listen to me kids; all of your dreams are too far away. As you get older they drift further and further out of reach as you sit back and drunkenly escort them into the safety of the abyss. Just when you think that everything is starting to go your way, your dog will get cancer or your favorite teacher will end up making you come after class and ask you to sit on his lap. That’s the way of this cruel world.
This is not the type of tone I was hoping to take with this week’s installment. I was hoping to be gearing up for the Ravens first trip to the playoffs since 2014. I was hoping to be daydreaming all week about all of the ways the Ravens were going to go to Kansas City and kick some ass on Saturday. I was hoping to be scheming about how my poor ass was going to get to Minnesota in early February. Now, all of that is ruined.
As I sat in section 542, row 8, seat 7, on Sunday evening, in the comfortable 22-degree weather, holding back a massive surge of diarrhea, I felt hopeful and content. Not because of the promise that a new year brings. Not because of my new found blogging fame and riches. Not because of my recent bout with food poisoning that allowed me to lose seven pounds in two days( see previous diarrhea reference.) All of those things are great, but when Mike Wallace caught the go ahead touchdown with 8:48 left on the clock, I felt hopeful and alive. I felt, along with the other 20 thousand Ravens fans in the stands, that this team had pushed through a trying year and was going to end up in the dance. I was proud to be a Ravens’ fan that had stuck it out in the freezing cold to show support for this team that despite crippling injuries, idiotic fans jumping ship, an offensive coordinator pulled from the deck of the Cornelia Marie, and a coach who believes in God over Science, was going to persevere and accomplish their goal of playing playoff football. There was a sense of pride in that stadium for those of us who stayed. There were, ” let’s go Ravens,” chants ringing around the stadium. The shirtless, beer bellied, R-A-V-E-N-S guy was working the crowd into a frenzy. It felt like the good old days. Well, it felt like the good old days if half of your friends were dead, but still. The last few minutes of the last quarter from a season that at times felt lost, was finally bringing the excitement, harmony and relief of a job well done…mission accomplished…sex on prom night. My Dad and I gave a high five and held on for a few extra seconds to signify that we are happy to be Ravens’ fans and that we still believe in this team and where they are going. All was right in Ravens Town. And all other outside worries seemed to be frozen in the cold, crisp and clean Baltimore City night air. One last play before our hero, Joe, could take the ball and touch his knee to the earth in a way that not even the dullest fan could find disrespectful, signifying the end of a struggle…a battle won…mission accomplished.
Then It Happened
by Adam Fink
The cruelest of mistresses, hope snatcheth away,
From joy and celebration to misery and dismay,
From the beautiful cold came the harshest of villain,
A soulless red rocket, a dream he hath killen,
As our heroes fled into the tunnel out of sight,
We were left with our thoughts, fears, and frostbite,
The Baltimore night waiting to swallow us in,
Swallow us! we yelled, for we do not consider it sin,
The darkness will lead you to more darkness it seems,
Just one fourth and twelve…we could taste our dreams,
But just like the teat of a plump, round breast,
The taste of your dreams hangs far from your chest,
Don’t waiver, don’t fall, don’t ever give in,
For in September, the new battle will begin,
While our heroes will fly on and conquer amore,
This sucks a big shart, and blows big-time, hardcore.
I really don’t feel like thinking or talking about it anymore but I guess I kind of have to. Well, no, I don’t have to but putting my feelings into writing is generally therapeutic. When my 9th grade girlfriend told me that I couldn’t touch her boobs anymore because she didn’t think her newly dead grandmother would approve as she was watching from heaven, the only thing that helped was writing. Granted, it was writing fake suicide notes and leaving them in her purse to try and guilt her into letting me touch them again. But writing is writing.
Ok. So what now? After an absolutely soul crushing, season destroying, horrifying finish, what now? I’ll let the guys handle all of the speculating, and hypothesizing on tomorrow’s podcast because I tend to be way too loyal and overly optimistic to make objective, sound arguments when it comes to the direction and big time decisions of my favorite teams, especially when it’s still fresh. Jason and Jerry are hardened, joyless journalists that feel no sort of connection with anything in life which allows them to rip apart what needs to be ripped apart. So we shall see what they have to say. One thing I do feel strongly about is that the Ravens need a whole new, fresh approach on the offensive side of the ball. We don’t need old retreads who still think that an archaic offensive philosophy that didn’t even really work in the late 90’s can work now. This league is all about new, inventive, offense ,which is something the Ravens need to fully explore. Obviously, personnel dictates what you can do to an extent and that needs to be addressed but I would love to see the Ravens bring in a young, forward thinking OC and let it rip. Go find a playmaker at wide out for once and give me a brand new scheme. That’s something fans could get excited about.
Why??? How???? God, this blows.
Ok, so, my homework assignment was to, “dig up some dirt,” on some of Coleman’s ex girlfriends. I really had no idea where to start. It’s a “stone cold whodunit,” as they say in the world of homicide detectives. Where there is no smoke, there is no fire. I haven’t known Jerry long enough to know about his long lost loves but I have heard him talk about a young lady he met in Cuba in 1999 when the Orioles went to play Castro’s boys. She still resides in the Havana correctional facility for women after being arrested for fraternizing with a member of the American media. I’ve also recently heard him talk about a girl he, “almost married,” but that would have forced him into moving to New York so he didn’t do it. I could see why someone would bail on a possible soul mate so that they could reside in Owings Mills instead of New York. Owings Mills has a movie theatre and everything. I recently became Facebook friends with Jerry in hope that I could look through old pictures and find someone that looked like a possible love interest and go from there. I couldn’t find anything. I also recently tried hooking my aunt up with Jerry but he wouldn’t do it because he was afraid that she would expect him to pay for dinner. He also has a fear of drowning and she loves to swim so it probably wouldn’t have worked out. Look, I’m sure Jerry does well for himself. He is a publicish figure in Baltimore and we all know that can go a long way. I know this is a moderately disappointing result but Jerry is a gentleman. He doesn’t, tell and kiss.
If you have any further information on Jerry’s dating life you can reach me @finkerstinker on twitter or call the Baltimore Police Department at 911.