Purple Reign 1: Chapter 1 “Meet The New Boss”

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“David cleaned house,” said one who did make the move. “I think he decided after all of the negative press they’d been getting, ‘What the hell, we’re already the scum of the earth, we might as well only take the people who are good with us.’ He only invited the people who were competent and loyal and good with the team when they moved to Baltimore.”

“When we moved we went from being a family-run business to a business that was run by a family,” Byrne said. “A lot of things changed when we got to Baltimore and I think Brian was the biggest reflection of that.”

Billick really has a lot of fun in just about everything he does so, at a personal level, we share a common ideology. It’s the American Dream of the new millennium: He works hard and he plays hard. Everyone who works for or with him loves coming to work, and he rallies the troops toward a common goal with a sensible and logical approach. Everyone who knows him in any other way is treated with respect and class. Billick loves to be a wise guy and he loves competition even more.

Most folks who know me know of my self-deprecating sense of humor and “kick me and I’ll laugh” philosophy. Anything for a smile, you know me.

When Billick came out to my live radio show from The Barn for his second public appearance, in April after the draft, it became very apparent that he was going to not only bust my balls privately but also publicly.

In a discussion that included Director of College Scouting Phil Savage, we were discussing 40-yard dash times in correlation to the selection process on Draft Day. An offensive lineman named Yusef Scott, a teammate of Raven Edwin Mulitalo at Arizona, ran a 5.7, 40 time, and I quipped that I could run a 5.7. Billick immediately stopped the proceedings and laid down the gauntlet.

“I’ve got a hundred bucks in my pocket right now that says you can’t run a 40 in 5.7 out on Harford Road right now,” Billick said.

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After some laughter and debate – and a few more sips from a frosty, cold beverage – we decided to have the run during training camp in Westminster later in the summer. Billick decided to make it a thousand bucks and we’d do the race for my favorite charity, the Ed Block Courage Awards Foundation.

Billick just destroyed me on the air for three months, shamelessly talking about my weight, my diet, my technique and any variety of excuses that I would use in defeat.

The day of reckoning was August 7, 1999 at Bair Stadium’s track in Westminster. It was a Saturday and the team had practiced on the field in the center of the track, which serves as the home for Western Maryland College.

I had been practicing extremely hard, working on my diet and my technique, but had never truly timed myself. I didn’t want to kill the mystery. I didn’t want to know ahead of time if I was going to win or lose. As my coach Tom Kapp said, “You can only run as fast as you can. Knowing your time isn’t going to make you any faster.”

After warming up for more than an hour – way too long in retrospect because I left my best times on the practice turf – Billick summoned me down to the track in front of not just the entire team and the entire organization right down to the cheerleaders, but there were several thousand fans who had turned out to see the practice as well as what had become known in Baltimore football circles as “The 5.7 Challenge.”

With all of the speed merchants on the squad – Pat Johnson, Duane Starks, Rod Woodson, et. al – it was Tony Siragusa, all 350 pounds of him, who was appointed as my spiritual and speed advisor. Not really what I had in mind. More than anything, I thought “The Goose” was a Billick plant to try to get me laughing too hard to run the race properly. Instead, towering over me, Goose gave me solid, worldly advice: “Screw the three-point stance. Just use your arms and run like hell.”

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I had three chances to beat the clock, which Billick held in the palm of his hand. The fix was obviously in from the beginning.

After much commotion and a stirring set of nerves, I took off for the finish line.

“Five point nine one,” Billick said over the public address system. “That’s not a bad start but it’s not good enough.”

Upon reviewing the videotape, I ran the damned thing in 5.4 flat, but hindsight and video is 20-20.

Either way, I was still not a winner.

For the second race, with my nerves more calm, I ran with fluidity and in a perfectly straight line. That advice came from Starks.

“Five point seven two,” Billick cackled into the microphone.

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At this point, knowing I’d been had, I started backtalking the guy with the watch. “You’re screwing me, Billick! Give Savage the watch!”

Finally, David Modell dispatched a fit cheerleader named Michel Walker to be my “pace” girl. Modell and Billick consorted and figured I could use some motivation.

Now I was thinking I might lose the race to Billick, but I was going to be further humiliated by getting dusted by a beautiful girl.

The clock was to start at my first movement, not a gun.

So, I just took off and ran like hell.

“Five point four eight,” Billick shouted. “You’re a winner!”

Along with the congratulations came a check for $1,000 made out to the Ed Block Courage Awards.

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Obviously, a friendship was born.

Two months later when I first lost my radio station, WNST-AM – my lease was up and the station was being sold to another operator – Billick pulled me aside after practice later in the week and offered me some big brotherly advice and consolation, but also some firm challenges as well.

Are you OK? Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you. Is your son OK? You’re going to be alright and things are going to work out for you. What is your next step? What did you learn from this experience?

Needless to say, ours is not a traditional media-coach relationship. Sometimes – at my worst times – he’s been a coach to me as well.

The relationship between Billick and Ozzie Newsome is also not a traditional one either, in terms of NFL leadership, personnel and control.

As much as winning and glory go hand in hand in today’s NFL, the Ravens’ Super Bowl championship is a testament to all parties involved truly working for a common goal and finding their roles and maximizing the strengths.

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