Singletary said in two years with Lewis that he never heard a complaint. Lewis would apologize when he was wrong and was a perfect teammate and a model student of the game.
“A lot of things were away from football with Coach Singletary, about being a man and sharing with each other,” Lewis said. “Every Monday, he would come in and we would bring out the Bible, and he would take me over certain scriptures in the Bible. We would go through it. The funny thing about it was that when he first got there, he actually thought he would have a hard problem coaching me. And it was the opposite. I was like, ‘Teach me everything you know. I don’t know anything. I need you to teach me everything you know.’ And, I am still like that to this day. When I walk into any meeting, I am the first one of my men there, and I want to know everything the coaches are saying and teaching. Coach Singletary was one of those coaches in my life like Marvin Lewis, Jack Del Rio, and Rex Ryan, all of these guys who really had a great impact on my life. He was what I needed in my life at the perfect time. I thank God’s timing for our relationship because it was perfect.”
Lewis’ film study habits were more like a veteran coach than a young NFL player. Oft-times, he knew what was going to happen before it happened. Perhaps his most famous play came against the Chargers in San Diego in September 2009 when he shot the gap on a 4th & 2 on the Ravens’ 15-yard line with 37 seconds remaining, and wrapped up a stunned Darren Sproles to abruptly end the game and secure a win. In his 14th season, when questions continued about whether he’d lost a step, there was Ray Lewis stealing the show 3,000 miles away from home in the 60th minute of key road game.
Like he always said, it was indeed a 60-minute ballgame.
Over 17 years, the excellence all runs together – taking the ball from Eddie George in the 2001 playoff game in Tennessee, or tracking down Tiki Barber from behind in Super Bowl XXXV, or annihilating an unwitting Denver Broncos tackler on a 107-yard returned field goal for a touchdown by Chris McAlister in 2002.
Big sacks, big stops, big hits, fumbles forced, fumbles recovered and interceptions that were returned for touchdowns.
This was the gospel according to Ray Lewis.
No one in the history of the game was more of a human highlight reel on the defensive side of the ball.
There was nothing in the game of football that Ray Lewis didn’t accomplish, including walking out of the tunnel of M&T Bank Stadium on his own terms as a Super Bowl champion once again. He was obsessed with studying film and tendencies. He was totally committed to the gym and his fitness — his strength, routines, diet, measurements, times, distances, and constant competition ruled his world.
But more than anything, it was that confetti that drove him. He wanted to win. He burned to win so badly that at times he couldn’t control his emotions.
After the playoff loss in early 2007, Bart Scott said that when he left the training room Lewis was curled up, sobbing so uncontrollably that he couldn’t bare witness to seeing his hero in there shattered by the end of a season that shouldn’t have ended. At that time it seemed inconceivable that the Ravens could lose to the Indianapolis Colts. “It was hard to watch,” Scott said. “I had never seen him like that, but it was awful.”
It mattered that much to Ray Lewis. Winning was all that ever mattered. And, of course, the confetti.
While he never adjusted to losing, his leadership and perspective during the Harbaugh era allowed him to make larger, calmer pronouncements when those first four seasons came to that almost inevitable halt for all but one NFL team in January. No one took those losses harder than Lewis, especially toward the end when he had to begin to wonder how many years he had left. Certainly, many fans were wondering the same thing.
While he had a few sticky contract negotiations over the years in Baltimore, he never came close to leaving the Ravens until the end of the 2008 season when after 13 years he had a chance to test the free agent market.
It wasn’t personal. It was business.
Bisciotti and Newsome made it clear that they wanted Lewis to end his career as a member of the Baltimore Ravens. But like all players before and after, Newsome has his “right player, right price” mantra. The Ravens were willing to pay a small premium for the final years of service from Ray Lewis, but they were not willing to break the bank to set the market for a 33-year old middle linebacker, with a lot of tread on his aging but determined wheels.
