Well into his 80s, he and Pat had limited mobility because Art’s health wasn’t good. But even then, he used it as a punch line. “Ten hospitalizations, two heart attacks, a stroke, internal bleeding … and every one of those she was at my side,” he said, turning to his wife during an interview. “You know what?” he told her, “I think you’re bad luck, babe.”
After many years of being the stronger, physically, of the two, Pat Modell died in October 2011, and a deeply saddened Modell started to deteriorate physically after years of battling coronary issues. Art lost his best friend, and losing your best friend is not easy.
During the summer of 2012, as training camp was starting, Modell began to tire – but he still had his sharp sense of humor.
His repertoire of jokes always worked.
“Hey Art: Are you comfortable?”
“Eh, I make a living…”
“Hey Art: How did you sleep?
“Like a baby. I woke up every two hours like a baby, crying!”
“Hey, Art: How do you feel?”
“I feel like a 20-year old, but where am I gonna find one at this hour?!”
And these were literally on the evening of the night he had his final stroke in August 2012. Art still knew show business.
Although not every player on the Ravens had a personal relationship with Modell, his presence in Owings Mills was felt until the end. Harbaugh routinely had lunch with him in the cafeteria, joined by Ray Lewis and anyone else who felt like making him smile or vice versa.
It’s hard to imagine that there’s anyone who walks into the building and doesn’t see that oil painting over the fireplace and know about Art Modell. But some places in the NFL are just offices or corporate places or just a football facility. The Castle in Owings Mills isn’t like that, which is part of the “family” theme that runs so deep in everything that Bisciotti and Harbaugh preach as leaders. The success of the franchise doesn’t happen in a vacuum or without emotion. Families care about one another.
Modell’s death on September 6th was an earthquake in Owings Mills just four days before the season opener for 2012. His contributions were so massive. This was the guy who planted the seed in Baltimore for everyone. There was palpable sadness on what was the first working day of the preparation for Cincinnati opener and because the game was on Monday Night Football, in some poetic way for Modell, the media met with the team on Thursday instead of the traditional Wednesday and found a broken organization.
Ray Lewis fought back tears.
“Anytime you lose a father, a leader, and the way he was,” Lewis said. “To not just his kids, but to many men. It’s always hard because the one great thing life offers is the opportunity to really help someone. He was one of those guys. He was one of those spirits. We’re human, and we have those emotions. The only reason I’m in Baltimore is because of him. We shouldn’t mourn, but we do, but he was one of the most awesome men I’ve met in my life. For me to know him, I know God had a plan.
“He was always whispering in my ear. His greatest moment was me bringing him the Lombardi Trophy. I told him before it that if we won it he’d have to do my dance. He did the dance. It capped it off.”
He was asked what he whispered in Modell’s ear at his bedside.
“It’s a son talking to a father. That’s the way I looked at it. It’s hard talking about someone who loved you that much. It’s not as easy as you think it is. Everything I said in his ear came from my heart and I loved him dearly,” Lewis voice cracked.
