and the murder charges, “What kind of a guy is Ray Lewis?”
The Ray Lewis I knew was always considerate, thoughtful and loyal to a fault. One night during the 1998 season I was in a bind when a player cancelled on me at the last minute. I immediately called Lewis, and others as well, to play the role of last-minute fill-in. When I reached Lewis, he sounded horribly sick when he answered his phone. When he knew I was in jeopardy of having a roomful of disappointed Ravens fans, he hopped in his truck and arrived at The Barn within 30 minutes.
Arriving late and obviously under the weather and nursing a massive head cold, Lewis told the fans, “I’ll always be there for you guys for supporting me. I’d never want to disappoint my fans. They mean too much to me.”
We had a fun relationship because we could poke fun at one another. I would always ride him about the Miami Hurricanes’ latest problems (with considerable help from Florida State grad Peter Boulware) and he would ride me about my radio competitors. He would almost always ask me about my son, whom he took a liking to right away. On Halloween night of 1997, he and I both got invited to be celebrity judges of an enormous costume contest on the square in Fells Point called the “Parade of Fools.” It was an event sponsored by Pepsi – one of my radio sponsors – so the soft drink was plentiful around the dais and Pepsi cups were prominently displayed. It was a Friday night, Fells Point was packed with the interestingly bizarre folks that only Halloween can bring out, and I was out for a good time. Only a “fool” wouldn’t have enjoyed a few adult beverages while watching the festivities unfold. My girlfriend, with my full approval, had purchased a couple of beers at one of the local taverns and placed them on the stage behind me. I wound up sneaking a few beers,
