I’ve changed my mind. I think Tony Siragusa is worthy of being recognized in the Baltimore Ravens Ring of Honor.
I know how some of you will react to this. A handful of you will agree, in large part because a handful of you are inclined to give out as many honors as possible to any player that you’ve liked. And then another group of you will be more dismissive. In fact, at least one of you will likely not read this column at all and instead leave a comment on Facebook or Twitter that says “you’re just saying that because he died” without realizing there’s even a shred of irony because you will have never seen this paragraph.
And … you’d actually be right. Had the man known as “The Goose” not tragically passed away at 55 last week, I don’t think I’d likely be writing a column about him. And I definitely would not have reconsidered the role he played in helping to establish a connection between the franchise and this city and fortifying one of the model organizations in all of American professional sports.
Let me take a step back for a second.
I was 22 years old the first time I was informed I would be interviewing Dr. Lonise Bias. Dr. Bias is the mother of former Maryland basketball legend Len Bias and is a truly remarkable person. On the 20th anniversary of Len’s passing in 2006, I interviewed her for my then job at 105.7 “FreeFM.”
In the days leading up, I admitted to my father that I was a bit overwhelmed. I was interviewing a remarkable person about a solemn anniversary and because of my age, I was … absolutely not an expert on the subject. I knew lots about Bias, but only because of what I had learned from watching videos and listening to conversations and reading countless stories about him. I was far too young to truly have understood his poetic greatness on the basketball floor personally.
My father smartly let me know that, you know, that’s kinda how history works. At some point, every person who watched Len Bias will sadly be gone. But those videos and interviews and books and documentaries will still exist and folks far younger than I will be capable of keeping his legacy alive.
When Tony Siragusa died, I started thinking about our responsibility to tell his story. There are ADULTS who were born after Siragusa’s career ended! And while the greatness of certain athletes can be explained to a younger generation simply by looking at their statistics or reading a bulleted list of career achievements on Wikipedia, Siragusa does not fall into that category. The man played a position not defined by statistics and was never an All-Pro or made even one Pro Bowl!
While young people might be familiar with his post playing career in broadcasting and acting or may be generally aware of his larger-than-life personality, I would have to think they might be a bit confused about why a man whose football career was seemingly so benign would be treated with such overwhelming reverence within this city. Yes, he was a Super Bowl champion, but it’s not like he was Ray Lewis or something!
So it’s our responsibility to tell his story. It’s our responsibility to explain to college-aged kids why Siragusa wasn’t just a (truly) phenomenal football player and yes, a larger-than-life personality but why, for so many of us, Siragusa was quite possibly personally responsible for ushering in a new generation of football and football fans in Baltimore.
That’s the part a young person can’t understand, right? They can’t fathom how scarred the city’s fans were in 1996. While we were happy to have football back, there was conflict. Some fans had never been able to shed their love for the Colts. My father was one who would admit many times in my childhood that he simply “couldn’t root against those helmets.” Others had adopted new teams like the Redskins or Steelers or Eagles or, for quite a few, the Dolphins. Still others were uncomfortable with how the Browns had been “stolen” from Cleveland in a similar manner to how the city’s most despised villain Bob Irsay had stolen the Colts from town in the middle of the night.
We were a fractured city. And we didn’t yet know that the “new” franchise’s first two draft picks (Jonathan Ogden and Ray Lewis) would become icons of the game. We didn’t know much at all about this new team we called ours. We were conflicted. We were willing to root for them, but a relationship between city and team hadn’t been built yet.
Enter Tony Siragusa. Siragusa’s overwhelming personality and charm, matched with his tough-guy mentality on the field and not-so-classic good looks were a perfect combination to make this city fall in love with him. But far more importantly, “The Goose” seemed to take it upon himself to make a personal connection with every human being in the community. Whether it was during an appearance at “The Barn” or out at one of many golf tournaments in town, Siragusa didn’t seek out the wealthiest or the best looking or the most connected among us.
He sought out everyone. He made a personal connection and, perhaps unknowingly, welcomed thousands more into “The Flock” via those connections. There is no way to judge his significance as a Ravens evangelist and many others (like the late David Modell, the great John Ziemann, the former Colts players who went out of their way to embrace the new organization and other Ravens players who took it upon themselves to create ingratiation within the community) deserve credit, but no one was like “The Goose.”
We know why Earnest Byner is in the Ravens Ring of Honor. It was a personal favor to the man who gave us football back. That’s a small sacrifice for us to make to show our gratitude. But in a strange way, what Art Modell believed Byner represented within the Ring of Honor — his role in establishing the team after the move from Cleveland — would be represented so much better in that ring by Siragusa.
The Ravens shouldn’t water down the standard for the Ring of Honor. And they should look for more ways to publicly recognize those players and figures whose accomplishments don’t quite warrant the top honor but who do warrant recognition nonetheless. But Siragusa, by virtue of the role he played in establishing the foundation for the relationship between city and team, would not be watering down the group with his inclusion at all.
I doubt it will happen. The Ravens already have a serious logjam with Marshal Yanda and Terrell Suggs waiting, Sam Koch now retired as well and overwhelmingly worthy of inclusion and Joe Flacco likely to retire in the next couple of years too. There’s not really room to shoehorn a posthumous honor for a player whose inclusion wouldn’t necessarily be about their on-field accomplishments.
But that doesn’t mean he isn’t worthy. And it continues to be our responsibility to tell the story of the man who, for so many of us, truly made this city fall in love with football again.
Photo Credit: Shawn Hubbard/Baltimore Ravens