We would see Ray Lewis cry many times during the 2012 season. But never was a strong man this weak with emotion, when just talking about Modell made the audience tear up with him. Everyone felt his pain.
“I think when you think about Art, what other motivation do you need? If you know anything about him, if you know of anything of what he meant to this league, to this organization, why wouldn’t we go play for something that special? He is watching. He’ll always be watching. And he’ll definitely be missed. This season we’ll definitely dedicate it to him and give it everything we’ve got to put another Lombardi Trophy beside him.”
Newsome was very brief and deeply emotional.
“When you think back over the last 24 hours, I can’t express any words,” Newsome said. “But based on all of the texts, emails, and phone calls I’ve gotten from people, the impact not only in my life, but he had a major impact in their life too. He was a great, great man,” Newsome’s voice tailed off and he excused himself as he cleared his throat and exited.
“Art was a giant in our industry,” Newsome later said in statement when he was more composed. “He was my boss – but he wouldn’t let me call him that – my mentor, and most importantly, my friend. He was the most caring, compassionate person I’ve ever known. The opportunities he gave me are historic, and I will be forever humble and grateful.”
September 5th began with a series of pre-dawn texts from David Modell to Bisciotti, Byrne, Newsome and longtime head trainer Bill Tessendorf that essentially said the situation was grave. Bisciotti was the first to arrive at the hospital and spent the entire day at Modell’s bedside with David and his wife, Michel, who were waiting for brother John to arrive from Los Angeles. Bisciotti refused to leave David. Byrne arrived at the hospital and texted Harbaugh that the situation was grave. Harbaugh, in sweats, grabbed four players and jumped in his vehicle.
Ray Lewis, Ed Reed, Haloti Ngata and Terrell Suggs came to Art’s bedside and along with Harbaugh prayed one by one and visited him. He was on a respirator and clinging to life but was still making eye movements when he heard familiar sounds.
Byrne, perhaps the most emotional of them all, said, “To see those men in that room…to see them salute Art, to talk to him in his ear…was powerful.”
The next day, Byrne poignantly wrote about the last words ever spoken to Modell in his blog at BaltimoreRavens.com, “The Byrne Identity.”
Byrne wrote:
“Coach Harbaugh kissed Art and began talking. Art’s eyes opened wide. ‘I told him how much I loved him. How much the players loved him. I assured him that he would see the best of us Monday night.’
“Ray stepped up, put his head on Art’s chest and then moved closer to Art’s left ear. Ray spoke to the former Ravens owner for over four minutes and then knelt on the tile floor and prayed silently for a few more minutes. Haloti, who has already seen the death of his parents, was next, followed by Ed and then Sizzle – all grabbing part of Art and talking in his ear.
“After Harbs and the players left, I returned to the room and found Ozzie massaging Art’s left hand. (I’ve known Ozzie since 1981 when he was early into his Hall of Fame NFL career. I have never – never – heard Oz talk about his athletic prowess.) After encouraging Art to hang in there and reminding him how much everybody loves him, Oz moved closer to Art’s face and said: ‘I want you to feel what good hands feel like.’ That brought a smile to my face. ‘I was just trying to make him smile,’ Oz explained.”
Byrne later asked Bisciotti what the last words he whispered to Art were, and he told his mentor: “Don’t go – I don’t know if I can do this without you.”
David Modell was overwhelmed with emotion – by how much Bisciotti had become part of the Modell family, to be at Art’s bedside at his dying hour was much more than he expected when they transacted what felt like business, first in 1999 and then in 2004. This was the kind of faith and friendship and family that the Ravens had become on their best day. It doesn’t get any closer or more intimate or real than all gathering to say goodbye to most significant person you’ve ever known in your own prosperity and well-being and good fortune for a lifetime.
“I will tell you without any question or reservation that Steve Bisciotti is well on track to being like Art Modell. I can tell you that in knowing him [Bisciotti] for eight or nine years — and then with my father and with my family in the hospital — he was as sweet and as kind of a human being as I’ve ever interacted with in my life. He never wanted me to be alone [at the hospital]. That was special. This city is lucky. They’ve gotten two good football owners.”
Art Modell died at 4 a.m. the next morning at the age of 87.
o o o
Modell’s death was so complex, so full of the ugliest of emotions from Cleveland, where he moved the Browns to Baltimore, where he brought the NFL back to its rightful place for the land of pleasant living to enjoy and cheer. In Baltimore, Modell is spoken of in reverent tones because of all of the joy the Ravens have brought to the community since 1996.
The Ravens issued a press release with more than 80 prominent football connections, releasing lengthy statements and quotes in regard to their affection for Modell and his contributions. It was a virtual who’s who of the NFL. For all of the vitriol in Cleveland, he was beloved by so many people.
If you knew Art Modell, especially in the winter of his life in Baltimore, he was impossible to not adore. He was charming and quick witted. He had lived a life so rich, so full of color and celebrity and chutzpah that just breathing the same air allowed you to smile, laugh, and share conviviality. He had a grand 80th birthday party in downtown Baltimore where the likes of Red Buttons, Don Meredith, Frank Gifford and wife Kathie Lee, and several NFL owners danced the night away, just like he did in the 1950s and 1960s in his glory era. He accepted awards with a sense of humor and seemed almost serene at times. It was clear that the relationship he kept with the team and Bisciotti fulfilled him in many ways.
The emotions of a franchise are very real at times when family members are lost in sports. The closeness that these teams create and the obvious universal mantra of unity are incredible emotional bonds. Virtually every employee in Owings Mills had contact with Modell over the last decade of his life when Bisciotti owned and ran the Ravens. He was like your grandfather who you hoped would always be there.
For all of his happiness and the Super Bowl trophy and the wealth he eventually left his family after selling to Bisciotti, it was his exemption from the Pro Football Hall of Fame that ate at him and therefore, ate at the people who loved him.
His death ripped the scab from both sides of the debate.
Many football folks once again argued his status as a man with Hall of Fame credentials in every sense except for moving the Browns, which made his accomplishments irrelevant or somehow less “fame” worthy. And of course, maverick Oakland Raiders owner Al Davis had moved his franchise twice and was voted into the Hall of Fame. But, even posthumously, it became an immediate issue and many voiced their outrage that he hadn’t been inducted while he was alive. To wrongfully deny him entry and his just due in life was a fate that he didn’t deserve.
John Harbaugh’s father, Jack, spoke the loudest with this missive: “It’s so sad to hear of the passing of Mr. Modell. Scribes and pundits who believe in fairness and honesty dropped the ball today in allowing Art Modell to pass from this Earth without being inducted into the Hall of Fame. In addressing this in Baltimore, you speak to the choir; in addressing this to those around the country, who grasp the contribution Mr. Modell made over five generations of being a pioneer and visionary in this great game and great league – highlighted by his leadership in negotiating TV contracts and being an owner for two NFL Championship teams – you speak to the choir. But, there is a narrow-minded corps of individuals who came up small today.
