dignity in tact. After all, the undefeated 2006 BALTIMORE Ravens play at 4:05 on Sunday in Cleveland and I intend to be on the roof next to Lake Erie with a purple heart and soul and plenty of wonderful orange — and I DON’T mean that candy-assed Browns’ orange — memories. Just like my old blue memories of My Pop and those Sundays with Bert Jones and Roger Carr and the Baltimore Colts Fight Song.
If the team is sold, I go back. If it’s not, I won’t. It’s pretty black and white for me, which is why I made the rally T-shirts those colors.
Orange is a color of celebration, and that’s been missing for a long, long time.
It’s been more than 28 months for me, and I’ve basically used up every ounce of energy and burned up what little is left of my integrity and dignity with this stupid rally over the past two months.
But I know I gave it everything I had. I did what I could do and I did with every ounce of passion and pride my father instilled in me.
Since my life has really been about baseball, and in no small order, music, I’ll leave you with a song today. I’ll provide the words on the website with a bow to Billie Joe Armstrong and Green Day and the music you hear on The Moon.
I think the words are very apropos even though I really don’t know what he was writing about when he put this song together. I also love the way the song builds and crescendos. And its references to fathers and sons and pain and summer and years and springs and hope are kinda cool as well.
Miss Monday, my Dundalk High 10th grade English teacher who was with me at Game 4 of the 1983 World Series, would be proud — me using some simple poetry in this final chapter of The Rally Moons.
Hopefully, the crescendo we’re planning in a few hours will indeed make September end.
And I really hope that a new day in Baltimore baseball is coming, and coming soon.
Before it’s too late!
Peter G. Angelos didn’t buy the Baltimore Orioles in 1993 for $172 million. He bought the love of my life. The Orioles are the nearest, dearest thing I have — my memories with my Pop, my Mom, my friends, my loved ones, my oldest pals who have drifted since childhood — they are the one constant in my life, the one thing in my life that’s been constant since birth, really.
I’ve been gone for 28 months and I’m angry and I’m sad and I’m venomous and I’m wistful — and I’m kinda all of these at the same.
I’m exasperated, breathless and on a baseball respirator.
And football is whispering sweet things in my ear and begging me to come aboard for yet another season of fun and high fives and hopefully — just like 2000 — sweet, sweet memories.
The love of my life — baseball and the BALTIMORE Orioles — has been held hostage long enough.
She’s choking and I’m begging you to let her up for air, Mr Angelos!
I want her back. But I’m ready to give her up forever if this craziness and peaceful message doesn’t work today…because I can’t stand to look at her in this condition any longer.
I loved her too much! And so did my Pop!
Mr. Angelos, if you have any soul in there at all, please wake up tomorrow morning and do the right thing.
Make September end and FREE THE BIRDS!
As Billie Joe Armstong of Green Day once sang: “Wake Me Up When September Ends”…)