Dear John Harbaugh: How many of the lies do you think we believe?

Dear John:

Let’s start with an opening proclamation: I won’t be the fool who ignites the ‘Fire John Harbaugh!’ chants outside The Castle walls during this itchy bye week pitching the savior return of Lamar Jackson and staring at overcoming 1-5 whilst your schedule softens significantly enough to somehow believe you are still a contender.

No one sane is looking to “fire” you today and certainly not a journalist with my sage chops because I’m the smart one who knows that you’re like a son to Steve Bisciotti. And, brother, he owes you upwards of $60 million. (Or what they call in State College, an “exit honorarium,” paid for by the students and citizens of a similar football cult).

Big Schotti ain’t firing you because taking big ‘Shots’ at you would make him the problem – and bring very unwanted attention to him for something other than writing a check and giving a papal wave. Never happening!

And the fact that you’re never getting fired is, really, the aorta of the problem.

John, there is no “real” accountability for you and Eric DeCosta and the whole unruly program out there that runs without rebuke and comfortably within the gross arrogance of an unlimited ceiling for profit and an unending, aggressive usurping of power and obedience that is unsurpassed by any local entity or international brand of business addiction. Between NFL media, rights, a dedicated sycophant fan base with wallets wide open and the unending possibilities for gambling on football, your business is a gigantic faux-local purple cloud with no floor – in lots of ways that I can recount and have personally witnessed. Like rich country club family beyond the barbed gates and intimidating walls, only thicker and bonded by “winning” – no matter what.

The truth doesn’t matter. Only the record. And winning is all that matters. Oh, and profit, and there’s plenty of that!!! Hundreds of millions annually for Unc Steve, who’s on a boat but meanwhile at The Castle, you’re in front of the operation and pulling in $20 million a year to run the asylum and win football games.

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No one sees anything.

No one says anything.

Or else…

Like your buddy Chad Steele (and various other secure and insecure security mechanisms in Owings Mills), you’re untouchable and most certainly immune and inured to any real criticism or accountability via the local media – or else you’ll be watching Hispanic Heritage Month games from the couch and buffering the audio of your sometimes muted press conferences like this por la cultura son of a Venezuelan immigrant lifer journalist. Thanks to Chad Steele “ICE-ing” me, I’ve watched you exclusively from the video screen these past four seasons after covering the Baltimore Ravens (home and away) professionally for 26 years and owning an FCC license to serve the community and public interest, and you still feign absolute innocence and pretend to not be in charge, which remains partly pathetic but mostly laughable.

I wrote a private, honest missive to you about your accountability (and a locker room incident involving someone who has asked me to not make the information public) a few weeks ago, long before Lamar was hurt and you were given this “incredible opportunity” to begin the season 1-5 and possibly become the fifth team in NFL history to make the playoffs in this dire circumstance.

As my partner Brian Billick would always demand “unfiltered information” – it was the basis of our relationship, friendship, partnership – I offered that to you because you’re in charge even if you tell me you’re not. And I’m going to hold you accountable even if you continue to treat this with the absurdity of a professional wrestling match where the referee doesn’t see the heel with the brass knuckles.

You know how I feel, John. This extended “accountability missive” has nothing to do with the overwhelming civic cries for heads to roll – including yours – in Owings Mills for the sake of the fans, who are selling off their tickets like your private leadership confidant King Trump is giving away his own private Idaho to the Qatar blood money cult and military.

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And I’m certainly not here for you to serve up the head of Zach Orr or install Chuck Pagano to run your defense. I know both men very well and they still have enough of my professional respect to believe they wouldn’t ever be part of the inappropriate and unprofessional shenanigans and bullying you’ve been a part of with Chad Steele in recent years regarding basic honesty, integrity, access and accountability – and who gets to ask you questions, on or off the field.

I know and believe Orr and Pagano to be imminently qualified, honest men trying to design a defense without a pass rush and with (now) very ordinary players on the front seven and very suspect prospects and rich, mouthy cornerbacks who have under-performed – in lots of ways. As you know and many in my audience respect, Chuck Pagano was the first phone call in the moments after my wife was diagnosed with leukemia in March 2014. He’ll always be a real hero in our lives. He’s a man of character and integrity and decency. And I haven’t spoken to him since he arrived in Baltimore because I’m not allowed to speak to him. No one in the building is allowed to speak to me because Chad Steele said so.

And, as I succinctly wrote to you, John: I think you’re a fraud.

But I also think you’re a more than decent football coach who often motivates and maximizes his talent. Right now, that’s not the case.

And, given the curious Todd Monken play calls on the goal line before halftime on Sunday against the Los Angeles Rams, I’d think you’d be more inclined to fire him before you go headhunting on your prized young defensive coordinator who was personally groomed by you for this assignment. And probably fingered by your owner to be the next “you” because he let Mike McDonald slip out the back door to Seattle 21 months ago.

None of you are going anywhere.

And I’m here to hold all of you accountable.

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And I go back to the obvious: it can’t possibly be your fault because you’re in charge and make $20 million a year. And you have a job for life. And there are no real “consequences” for any of you who behave like the chosen sons of an oligarchy.

I wrote a lengthy “Dear John” missive almost three years ago “breaking down your defense” and holding you accountable for your own words and deeds in my personal and professional life and your insider role in my absurd departure.

When people ask me about you – and your character and integrity – I send them your words and deeds and my real experiences because I am a real human and a real journalist.

Believe it or not, John, Baltimore sports fans trust me more than you because I’ve never lied to them. I have nothing to hide and as much as thousands of your most fanatical “fans” have attempted to professionally shame me on behalf of Chad Steele, the “shame” of my departure is on you and your cowardly outfit where integrity is a myth that seems to keep playing its way onto the field (and off) in key circumstances. And I remind them that you “run the building” according to at least a half dozen executives who have served in your stewardship.

And anyone with half a brain…

You’ve made it 18 years and gone through 14 offensive and defensive coordinators. I was here for the Cam Cameron shift that ultimately led to me writing “Purple Reign 2” back when I foolishly had immense respect for you and the organization but I’ve since witnessed the massive change in “the culture” and words and deeds of who you are and what you’re all about on many levels. I won’t hold Eric DeCosta fully accountable here for picking the groceries with arms raised in ‘V’ but his fingerprints and successes and failures are shared and earned so you can just ‘cc’ him on this “Purple Ledbetter” because most of this stench applies to him as well. But he hides more than anyone this side of Big Schotti and Big Sashi and I’ve had them all run from me in a professional circumstance on a veranda in Florida after Steele exited me from the entire NFL media ecosystem with the outrageous lies that I’m not a legitimate media member or that I don’t cover your football team professionally.

They don’t want questions from an informed journalist like me any more than you do.

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The Baltimore Ravens lack credibility to anyone who’s really watching the show. Starting with the core pillars of any person or organization that I would respect: honesty, integrity, accountability, decency – the basic building blocks of anything I want to be publicly or privately associated with as a sentient 57-years-on-the-planet-tomorrow human being in the modern world.

And the sadness of witnessing the lowering of the professional bar since you touched the Lombardi Trophy on the arm of Joe Flacco, the Mile High Miracle of Jacoby Jones and total idiocy of your brother attempting to throw the ball at the goal line in New Orleans on four plays from the 1-yard line after your team blew a massive lead once the lights went out a dozen years ago at the Superdome.

The stench of your dishonesty and the organization and its absence of decency in the following years has permeated the building that you’ve locked me out of even if it’ll probably somehow never tarnish your lofty professional reputation as “the Harbaugh who doesn’t cheat.” My guess is that you’re still one Super Bowl win away from being a “Hall of Fame” coach. I would strongly argue against your candidacy on many fronts, not the least of which is blowing huge leads.

Ever since Ray Rice punched his wife in a glass elevator and all of you lied about it, well…it’s kinda gone measurably downhill in so many obvious ways that WBAL and WJZ will never report if they choose to remain your business partners. And, of course, this is the part where I reference your kicking game and the cowardly legend of Justin Tucker and the intimidation of what’s left of the local media to properly and professionally discuss the circumstance and hold him (and anyone else associated with covering it up) accountable.

I know more about your football team than anyone in the city. I’ve seen it all back to when Paris Glendening brought out the Browns mug in the parking lot that became your football field. And so far, I’m not one of the ones who has ever been asked to sign an NDA to cover up facts or apologize for lying or make corrections for shady news or fake facts or reporting dumb rumors or utter nonsense. I’m a lifer journalist who has no problem finding men (and women) of extreme integrity and leadership in sports for five decades and treasuring and maintaining those professional relationships long beyond the years where I’ve covered athletes, coaches and executives. My reputation for truth – and loyalty to it – is impeccable. I have no reason or interest in lying or carrying muddy water for liars on my airwaves or in my social life.

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Especially when it comes to mistreating women.

And, John, I can’t say that I can recall anything quite like the lack of confidence the fan base has in you or your football team right now. The “Bank” looks like it’s been robbed by a purple soul bandit of its mojo in so many ways that only the eyes of a PSL holder and original civic investor from 1996 at Memorial Stadium could properly extol. The Ray Lewis Dance is as long gone as the World’s Largest Insane Asylum.

The empty vibes give off the nasty chill of the 1982 Colts, sans Art Schlichter, and that’s not complimentary because I was there for it.

All of the boos. All of the empty seats. And the weight of all of the missed opportunities and mistakes that have become your recent civic destiny.

The bizarre Mark Andrews play calls by Monken aside at the goal line, the just-can’t-get-the-last-yard at halftime against the Rams on Sunday was telling and poignant – almost like the existential franchise fate since drafting the greatest quarterback of this generation in Lamar Jackson and then weaponizing and exploiting his greatness in every way – except when it really counts.

While I heard your former defensive coordinator Rex Ryan defecate upon you and the whole operation on ESPN before the game, I also heard new Jacksonville Jaguars head coach Liam Coen quote this axiom gem:

“Competitive greatness is being your best when your best is required.”

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I’m just going to leave that there, John. (Just pretend that we’re having those old breakfasts in the cafeteria like we used to when I would share some of my John Wooden-isms with you.)

You get to the goal line, but you can’t finish…

Much like the Justin Tucker story, there have been no happy endings for this group.

That look on your face of confusion and aggravation and frustration whilst you curse is just as excruciating for the fan base, John.

“Very bad football…in several different execution type categories,” is how the voluble Tom Brady phrased it after watching you manage three freaking points and three turnovers in 60 minutes against the Los Angeles Rams on your home soil when they slept walked through the first hour.

“What an opportunity!” to overcome 1-5 is how you curiously, if not comically, phrased it in the postgame.

John, I love your coy when you play that “vapid guy” college cheerleader role – your brother and your father are also master craftsmen at this old, Midwestern mind-game strategy, “We’ll sneak up on ya with our smarts” mantra.

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Who’s got it better than us?!?!

Right, now, as my 7^th grade classmate Lisa Bocklage Mossa was quick to quip on the social medias: “Everybody!”

Well, except the Jets…

Of course, if accountability and integrity were any benchmark in your building, my experience says that people like Sashi Brown and Chad Steele wouldn’t be allowed past the front gate of One Winning Drive. And certainly not as “civic stewards” or “brand protectors” of The Trust that the franchise peacocks about and up charges the fans and all of the T-shirts and slogans that you wear during all the performative performances that your Ravens dot com video department makes look like the real Hard Knocks but is more akin to the reality TV staging of Hogan Knows Best.

The stadium has emptied. The purple locals and diehards are pissed. The team is losing and completely unaccountable. And, from my long work in sports journalism and insights over four decades as a local bartender of history, facts and the local lineage and institutional knowledge that Chad Steele once laughed in my face about in that same cafeteria, I have absolutely nothing to recommend you or offer anything to your fan base other than a running tab of ugly receipts that your franchise should own even though “accountability” is not really your thing.

From the top down…

That starts with your arrogant, formerly “local” billionaire owner showing up to take some questions after the tax-paying citizens of Maryland rebuilt the stadium with a billion dollars whilst his out-of-town sales suits try to squeeze local citizens and businesses for more “premium” money in some new bird’s nest with a fancy name, fawning million dollar sponsor and the same perch of 1-5 and inherent dishonesty and no questions allowed.

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Meanwhile, Tom Brady opined very early on Sunday that Matthew Stafford would crush your defense with “premium plays” once he identified your middle linebacker.

Ask any Baltimore football fan: Premium plays > premium pricing

One of the reasons Steele wanted to purge me was to have one less guy asking you and your “sensitive” tough guys “premium” questions in the locker room after you lose football games.

So, after Sunday’s thud, the now customary “disappearance” of Kyle Hamilton, Marlon Humphrey, Kyle Van Noy, Zay Flowers (who fumbled twice) and (the frequent offender) Mark Andrews sent the likes of John Jenkins and Tyler Huntley forward to answer questions and “speak” for your horrid 1-5 operation before a bye week.

Is that leadership, John?

Is that the “Hall of Fame” accountability you brag about?

Is that character of a championship football team?

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As a guy who has watched and reported on sports since 1984, that is far “below the bar” and cowardly – and ultimately very telling about the heart of your leadership and locker room to someone who has been doing this job long enough to still make you read and respond to my texts.

And it’s a damned disgrace that as a lifelong local sports journalist that I have to write you a letter like this instead of standing in front of you like a man and doing my job on behalf of your fans like I did for 26 years.

But that’s on you and Chad Steele and your little not-so-secret society of media retribution in Owings Mills.

This is about all of you past the moat and beyond the protected walls of The Castle built by your fans and customers. These are the “little” people who stand in line in the cold to pay to get your autographs and buy $20 beers.

Making commercials when you win; hiding without accountability or the expectation of it when you lose.

Here’s a Wooden mantra of mine for you (and it is “our” birthday tomorrow so do indulge me, friend):

“I learn a helluva lot more about people and teams when they lose than when they win. Everyone is a helluva winner!”

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And, lately, you lose far too much…and hide far too frequently. And that starts with your owner. And it oozes into your locker room. And manifests with wealthy, entitled players hiding in defeat. It’s beyond a “bad look.” It’s what losers do – and true champions would never even consider.

Accountability is optional for the Baltimore Ravens but the scoreboard and standings don’t lie.

The eye in the sky says: “One and five!” There’s only one thing you could be that’s worse – and you did play Cleveland. You are 1-5 and your only win is over the Browns.

And no changes are coming?

You think the fans are going to find that acceptable, John?

Derrick Henry called his play “unacceptable,” and took accountability and has after every fumble, every mistake, every loss. He talks candidly about what he could do better. He communicates with the fans like he was trained by a real professional – someone other than the clown show of accountability exhibited by Chad Steele and many of your players in key moments after bad beats.

(John, I only have one jersey in my closet of a modern football player and it’s his bright 22 Oilers ‘Luv Ya Blue’ cash grab sweater. I own an officially licensed NFL Derrick Henry jersey and wear it regularly. I’ve never met him but he’s done nothing to make me not want to wear it. He even mentions “the fans” every time he’s on the podium and it feels sincere. Tell him I appreciate that. I like guys who walk their talk and front-face the community – in victory or defeat, the way my Pop taught me. It tells me about their parents, their ethos, their upbringing, their character, their integrity and accountability. My sense is that Derrick Henry is the kind of guy like Joe Flacco who would make me proud to wear his jersey.)

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However, I would say that many others – including you – measure far “below the bar” to use your terminology.

For crissakes, what representative of the NFL (or any legitimate professional sports franchise) wouldn’t maintain that standing in front of a locker and answering a few questions from real media on behalf of the fans after the game isn’t a bare-ass minimum?

I thought you were “tough” guys? Real mighty men, John?

And then there’s the sleaze and dis-ease of the entire Justin Tucker offseason allegations, departure and the book-end chokes against the Buffalo Bills in Orchard Park in January and six weeks ago.

It’s been quite the calendar year so far for the Baltimore Ravens – and we’re just getting started and I’m not even convinced that you won’t be 7-7 in seven weeks because you have as much talent as any team in the league. And you’re still “a helluva coach,” as I’ve been quoted over 18 years of covering you and I’ve said that your face dozens of times.

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Lamar Jackson might still put on a purple cape, go in the phone booth and make you the Hall of Fame hero you long to be, John.

But that defense? Pee-yew.

But, I’m not unconvinced that you can’t win 38-37 every week over the next two months playing the lesser lights of the league and neophyte quarterbacks. Hell, Las Vegas still thought you were going to win the AFC North until you scored three points on Sunday.

And, even though you wrote to me two weeks ago and wrote very succinctly that you think I “hate” you, I picked you and your team to win the Super Bowl seven weeks ago. And just publicly picked you to go 6-2 in the next eight games and get to 7-7. (John, this is another exhibit of how ridiculous your words and behavior have been regarding my always professional coverage of your football team.)

Then, your defense started bending and breaking and hiding. Your team has a longish history of having the wrong kind of defining moments in defeat featuring big mistakes and shrinking in the big moments. Oh, and penalties. And blowing more big leads than any other head coach by a lot.

“It’s not easy, it’s not pretty – but it’s us,” only works when you win.

But I remember Marlon Humphrey saying the team “choked” six years ago when you lost to Derrick Henry before you wisely recruited him. It’s an organization where everyone has been made far-too-comfortable because you’ve pasted so many ill-prepared teams with the dazzle of Lamar Jackson and The Purple Revolution.

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It remains the only thing that has kept your job security so secure with the Ravens. Well, that and the fact that Bisciotti would never fire you no matter what you do, hide, cover up, lie about or conceal on behalf of winning football games at all costs.

And then January keeps happening and the failures stack up. Someday the AFC Championship Game losses might stick to you (instead of Flacco, Cundiff and Lamar) but that is only for the eyes and judgment of the tanned billionaire owner, who loves you more than any owner has ever loved his football coach.

And, John, other than charging me with “hatred,” there’s nothing more disingenuous or personally offensive to me than invoking the name of God to feign innocence or protect your obvious lies and deceit. And that goes far beyond the “fibs” and little white lies of your injury reports.

Your God knows that I am a legitimate Baltimore sports journalist. And your God knows what you and your organization have done to me (and others) on behalf of the power and privilege (and boundless arrogance) of “the shield” of the Baltimore Ravens and the National Football League. So, spare me the piety and own your actions, John. The gaslighting only works between your ears. Then, the reality of the circumstance comes into focus – just like the 1-5 record is what you really are.

Hell, I have it all in writing. It’s all unfolded in front of the entire city in real time. I get asked – or accused – about it every day of my life. And, beyond being a Man of Letters, that is why I write you these missives to hold you accountable for being the kind of guy who endorses and stands behind the mistreatment of local media.

This is where I tell anyone who asks why I’m not at your press conferences that it’s because you are a fraud fronting an organization that lacks accountability because it’s too big to fail. And too arrogant to ever admit failure. And, without fully man’splaining it, you’re also never wrong.

And that arrogance and lack of emotional intelligence and maturity shows up in vivid, bright flashing lights once the lights come on and you start losing football games.

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And as a longtime PSL holder, fan and traveling customer and journalist covering the Baltimore Ravens on behalf of the people who have made you a wealthy man for being a good football coach, that’s not a position I ever wanted to take or relish in reporting. Anyone who knows me, knows this.

But, quite frankly, your track record on honesty and transparency stinks. Your words are often their own punchlines to the fan base. Your words are not trusted; quite the opposite by me and anyone else matching the words with the deeds over the body of work.

Most of the fans grumble aloud on the way out of the stadium about how worthless your press conferences are during the season. It’s a good thing that Michelle Andres doesn’t show you the scroll on your team Facebook because you’d be calling your corrupt con man felon buddy at the White House looking to get Meta shut down or the feed muted by Sashi Brown or Chad Steele, who of course, don’t work for you. LOL!

I love how your misinformation grillings usually begin with “Good to see everyone…” when I never felt any of you were ever “happy” to see any of us or have us ask you questions that aren’t approved by the great Chad Steele, who you continue to try to convince me has far more power than you in the building.

John, treating me and everyone who knows me like a chump is like your hero Trump telling the Associated Press they can’t ask questions about the ridiculous fucking Gulf of America or whatever the next lie is that you believe and are willing to parrot as the work of an honest, Christian man of faith.

It’s disgraceful. It’s dishonest. And it’s obvious…maybe not to really tragically stupid people but to anyone who reads my work or has the critical thinking skills of a 10-year old.

But it doesn’t matter when it doesn’t matter. And the little white lies and tells of your press conferences have become a way of life – part of your charm, your obvious bullshit has become to anyone who loves the Baltimore Ravens.

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John, lousy organizations stalk and exterminate local media members to run from accountability. Truly awful ones have everyone in the building (and city) know it’s wrong and endorse it anyway.

You’re that guy…leading those guys and gals!

As life goes on, time will tell the truth of the story about why folks like me aren’t asking more questions about Justin Tucker and who knew what and when. Time always reveals the truth. Time and the wisdom and integrity of good people always tells the real story. It certainly did for “Tuck,” who you still say you believe despite the evidence brought forth by no less than 16 women in our community who were vetted by a powerhouse female investigator and attorney who works for the National Football League.

In the end, even Roger believed the women…

Those innocent women that were smeared all winter and spring and summer – including journalist Julie Scharper, who should win any local sports reporting award in the nation after having these appalling incidents from a dozen years ago that were whispers on the streets finally told about the “power” of the Baltimore Ravens’ brand and the ability to subvert and skirt truth and accountability. Even at the cost of honest, local, frightened women.

I sincerely believe the Baltimore Ravens are a sleazy operation and have been for a long, long time.

I’ve lived it.

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I am the witness. And the reporter…

Since the Ray Rice incident and Bisciotti adopted your paranoia and made himself as invisible as Mark Andrews was in Buffalo or Zay Flowers was on Sunday, your operation is not one I can endorse with any integrity because I’ve watched an act that wouldn’t bring me pride as a fan or decent human.

I can say this with the full integrity of my name and that of my family and for my trusted audience: fair criticism and legitimate coverage of the Baltimore Ravens isn’t met with grace, diplomacy, dignity, partnership or community awareness. It’s declared an act of war by you, Chad Steele and Steve Bisciotti.

For 25 years, I was the guy waiting to ask the fair questions in the aftermath of these kinds of games but the franchise you front has decided it doesn’t want real reporters around because they might unearth stories like the one The Baltimore Banner wrote about potentially serial predatory acts in our community by a sleazy kicker and anyone who might’ve enabled or shielded his sick act.

As I have said many times, any guy I know who tried any of the tool shed shenanigans that Tucker is alleged to have done could’ve expected a police officer or an ass-kicking waiting in the lobby of said massage establishment.

But, he was protected by your shield.

Do you know who I’m with?

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Do you know who I am?

Do you…?

This and any other nonsense in the hallways of One Winning Drive that a reporter might get the wind of or any hair-raising droppings when a straight shooter or insider emerges who cares about women and integrity and other caring (and similarly muted) humans might know about it. Or like the massage scandal it takes that caused the NFL to mete out a 10-game suspension on behalf of defenseless women in a private, professional circumstance who couldn’t call a cop over a dozen years and wouldn’t be believed even if they called the Ravens switchboard and asked for Dick Cass with concern about the behavior of one of his high-profile football players doing the kinds of awful things that were reported.

I know how I was treated when I “reported” inappropriate actions by well-placed and “protected” and “empowered” Executive types to Cass, and you, and DeCosta and then Bisciotti – and ultimately everyone in my audience.

I am no longer considered a local sports journalist because Chad Steele said so.

That always draws laughs like every time he shows up looking like a Secret Service bouncer over the shoulder of every player, and you, every week in every shot on my TV screen.

And the sleaze and stench that the franchise never faced in the offseason over a horrific scandal that ended all-too-quietly with a Justin Tucker 10-game suspension, a quick and quiet exit and nary a word from the organization that employed him over the past decade and will one day undoubtedly wash away all of his denied sins and “honor” him as a “hero” of the franchise. That’s what happened with Ray Rice.

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Right now, the football gods don’t seem to like the Baltimore Ravens.

And just what is there to like?

Drafting a twice accused of improprieties by women edge rusher and have him evaporate on the field? Re-signing the backup lineman who was alleged to be all boozed up and driving around at double the legal limit and now can’t get on the field? Or maintaining that no one knew or could’ve possibly known anything about a “Hall of Something” serial female massage therapist visitor roaming the streets of Baltimore serving to provide gross memories of power and privilege toward young women who sought to offer a legitimate professional service. And the whispers all over the internet and on bar stools and the massage community that fearless journalists uncovered.

Of course, showing that trademark purple accountability, Tucker immediately fingered the female journalist as a liar and heretic and has continued to call all of these Baltimore women (and their families) liars. And he called their bosses liars, and he called their lawyers liars. And I have no doubt he’ll be kicking in your league in six weeks for some desperate franchise. He’ll be a good bet to nail a 50-yarder in January to win a game for some proud NFL outfit in reach of a hard foot in a hard spot on a cold, lonely night for the playoff losers.

Tom Brady called you “desperate” on the Fox broadcast when you were getting your ass kicked by the Los Angeles Rams and the stadium was empty except for those who stayed to boo you for the second week in a row.

I offered a professional service for four decades to Baltimore sports fans that Chad Steele, Sashi Brown and the remnants of what is left of your crumbling-on-the-field yet quite wealthy franchise lacked the integrity to tackle with honesty. Just like you “privately” sneaking around to the White House to kiss the racist ass of a Dick Tater wannabe who has trashed the name of the city whose football team you represent and threatened our citizens with “war” actions from his co-opted military.

The internet always notices.

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No real questions allowed for The King! Well, except maybe King Henry.

Blowing leads and losing playoff games is one thing, but you’ve skated on by supporting and enabling the sick act of a convicted felon and “good friend of Jeffrey Epstein” who would send the National Guard to invade our city and target people who look like me (and Derrick Henry and Lamar Jackson and 80% of your football team) but not being allowed to be asked about it.

What do you believe, John Harbaugh? What do you stand for? And why…

I saw “The Baltimore Bullies” ESPN documentary quietly blaring in the corner of a hotel lobby last week in Albuquerque and Billick’s face on the screen and Rob Burnett torturing a poor Browns quarterback named Spurgeon Wynn. I wrote a book about that legendary team and knew every character in the movie. Back then, that “bully” thing implied good things on the football field; quite the opposite in our society and on the streets of the hometown that buys these “ambassadors” of fame and football into the community with special privilege and free meals laid by the groundwork of far better men here in the 1990s. Led by Ted Marchibroda and Brian Billick, they didn’t always win but they were largely reliable men of character and integrity. I know because I did a show at The Barn in 1996, 1997 and 1998 when the team (and the same young players) lost a lot of football games and still showed their faces and their honor.

The present day 1-5 Baltimore Ravens outfit that you front?

Some failed draft picks. And some imperfect humans. And a complete failure to accept any accountability or responsibility beyond the glory and praise of being a handsomely paid NFL player.

What kind of leader are you, John?

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The world is about to find out at 1-5 and Tom Brady was openly challenging your resiliency on the Sunday broadcast. And he’s more qualified than me and even has a press credential.

You watched your franchise try to end my professional life over a personal grudge by a petty employee and you offer me heavenly platitudes and the Pontius Pilate courage of Bert Lahr in a costume on the yellow brick road.

I believe in journalism. I believe in truth. I believe in facts. I believe in evidence. I believe in testimony.

This is mine.

And I still love football.

And I’ll still be watching and writing and opining the gospel of Baltimore football in December when you’re 7-7. And I’ll be identifying all of the Ravens heroes who speak to the media after all of these upcoming wins against patsies.

Or not.

I will be here continuing to write and speak what I know to be true.