His wisdom and life experience was immediately evident.
He spoke of the fans, his football days in Tampa, the trials and tribulations of life and his relationship with God. Despite the obvious enthusiasm for playoff football in the room, you could have heard a pin drop in The Barn that night. Dilfer was captivating in his speech, almost as if he were giving a sermon at the altar of football and life.
His sense of humor about his own perceived mediocrity was refreshing to say the least. So was his preview of the upcoming playoff game with Denver.
HEAR THE JANUARY 2001 CHAT FROM THE BARN WITH TRENT DILFER IN ITS ENTIRETY HERE. THIS WILL TAKE YOU BACK TO THE VIBE AND FEELING IN BALTIMORE FOUR WEEKS BEFORE SUPER BOWL XXXV.
“I know what (the Broncos) are going to do,” Dilfer told the crowd. “They’re gonna put everyone up front on the line of scrimmage and say, Let’s make Dilfer beat us with the pass, and that’s what I intend on doing. You know there’s something that I like about not playing real well the last couple of weeks, about not being real explosive in the passing game. It’s that when we jump on them with the passing game early, they’re not gonna know what to do. Because they’re going in and they’re telling themselves all week long, If Jamal doesn’t run the football well, if they can’t do this, then we’re gonna take their offense out of the game. If we can score a couple of touchdowns on their defense, then we can win. And what I want to make sure that my teammates understand what I understand and know in my heart of hearts: that I want to come out and win this game offensively. I want to take it to the Denver Broncos and I want us to play the best football we’ve ever played.”
After an hour, I thought the interview was over, but he stopped me short.
“Can I say one more thing?” Dilfer asked, once I started wrapping things up.
“You know I don’t know how this thing’s gonna turn out,” he began. “I’ve played long enough to know that there are really no guarantees. I believe we’re very good. I believe we can go a long way, but the one thing I’ll say is this is the first time in my career – and I think some of this came out after the Tennessee game – this is the first time in my career where I really love the fans that I play for and I feel like I’ve always wanted to play for a football town. I’m playing for one here.”
Dilfer, stopped for a moment and tears began welling in his eyes. It caused me to get choked up as well, just sitting next to him.
“The fans have embraced me. I appreciate that. I can’t give you as much love back as you’ve given me and it’s been very special to me. I hope I can do what everybody wants me to do for this football team. I believe I can. But regardless of what happens, I love you guys, too. Thank you!”
The holiday season, “Festivus,” old memories, new opportunities – it was a pretty special week to be around Baltimore waiting for the first playoff game in 23 years.
By the time game day arrived, the town was in a football-crazed frenzy. Anticipation led to pep rallies and everyone was talking about the Ravens and football and where they were the last time Baltimore played in an NFL playoff game.
Upon arriving at PSI Net Stadium on New Year’s Eve morning, I was all set for my usual routine of stopping by the press box, enduring the usual dirty looks from the out-of-town media members when they see my decadent pro-Ravens garb.
Before arriving in the press box, I had some fun at the press gate watching Denver Post sportswriter Woody Paige get stopped by security and denied entry for not having the proper press credentials. Paige had made himself no friends in Baltimore during the week, writing a scathing piece in the Colorado newspaper regarding his distaste for Baltimore and its sports traditions.
Needless to say, the locals were enraged.
I could only laugh and throw a few mild taunts in Paige’s direction as he looked hopeless, trying to gain entry into the stadium past the unforgiving guards, who laughed at him, too. Poor fool. I told him he could expect nothing less after what he wrote, that there would be consequences.
He didn’t know who I was and I sort of liked it that way. I figured his face was anonymous and it might be the only time all day he felt some heat. So, the way I figure it, I scored one for the home team.
Rumor has it that Paige finally got into the stadium near game time.
Walking through the stadium, I could feel the crowd’s anticipation of the day. Our radio station, WNST-AM, had printed up GO RAVENS signs that I was distributing in the lower bowl of the stadium prior to the pre-game introductions.
It was a special feeling attending a playoff game with my son, Barry, who I watched the introductions with from the Ravens’ marching band’s seats in the east end zone, the first time I had ever not been in my regular seat before kickoff.
From the moment the Ravens hit the field, the Broncos really had no chance.
“You could feel that there was a different energy that day,” said defensive tackle Rob Burnett, who sensed the change of the Baltimore football temperature over the five seasons from when the team came from Cleveland. “It was a symbiotic relationship. They really had been through some tough times as a city since the last playoff game back in the ’70s and they appreciated it, respected it. We fed off each other that day.”
There was a real feeling within the clubhouse that the only ones who believed the team would win on that Sunday were the fans within a 30-mile radius and the players themselves. The majority of the media predictions that week had the Ravens taking a quick exit from the playoffs, based on their one-dimensional team and the poor offensive showing of the final two weeks of the regular season.
