Ravens offensive coordinator Greg Roman is worried that Lamar Jackson might talk too loud.

He’s worried that players and coaches from other teams—either watching live or on television replays—will clearly hear what signals the quarterback is yelling out at the line of scrimmage and find a pattern about what play follows, or which direction Jackson runs.

Think of how clear Peyton Manning’s famous “Omaha” call was on national television a few years back. Now put that situation in a mostly empty, cavernous football stadium. (Manning, the future Hall of Fame quarterback, revealed once he retired that the Nebraska city was an “indicator” word to his lineman that he’d changed a play, and gone to “Plan B”.)

Sensitive microphones can easily pick up language from players, coaches, or the sound of a sneeze, especially with no fans in the stands, which will be the case for at least the start of this Ravens season. It’s scheduled to begin next Sunday at M&T Bank Stadium against the Cleveland Browns.

“That’s one of the first things we started talking about,” Roman, the guy who picks the plays that Jackson calls in the huddle and the line of scrimmage, said this week, “how the communication is going to be a lot more evident, based on the fact that it’s not going to be nearly as loud. We’ll definitely mix some things up as we go.” He often holds his hand or play sheet over his goateed mouth so opponents can’t read his lips. A mask might do the job now.

(On a related note, Ravens coach John Harbaugh said the other day, “Don’t they put that lip-sync thing out every year?” referring to the series of hilarious “Bad Lip Reading” videos that have linked nonsensical phrases to the movement of coaches’ mouths, “It’s going to kill that industry.”)

In the grand scheme of this most unusual and chaotic year, sign-stealing and code-breaking probably doesn’t rank high on the list of most people’s daily concerns.

As we work from home with kids hanging from our legs, and others struggle with the challenges of not working at all, we’re simply happy to even be talking and writing about sports, and that games are happening.

(And so are others, evidently. As we were researching something for this article, we noticed a Browns fan must have done some recent editing to M&T Bank Stadium’s Wikipedia page, labeling the Ravens stadium as “aka Baker Mayfield’s house” in the first line and picture caption. Can someone please change that?)

Football will be played, but like most everything else this year, it will be different. Because of the pandemic and government regulations, the Ravens home stadium—aside from the players on the field, coaches on the sidelines, and other team staff—will be empty on game days. Same goes for most road games, depending on the state and if policies change.

Fans know that the Ravens have a provocative in-stadium message during big points of a game. “Every decibel counts,” with a fake sound meter encouraging more. But the noise will literally be manually controlled this year. “It’s always great to have our fans there. They’re always energized,” linebacker Tyus Bowser said recently. “It’s going to be a different vibe.”

In fact, the NFL is reportedly requiring teams to play fake crowd noise to create some semblance of atmosphere (as well as background noise for entertainment and competitive reasons, like Roman said). And stadium staff will be allowed to play loud music until there’s 15 seconds left on the play clock.

In this new work-at-home (stadium) life, everyone who isn’t a player will be required to wear a mask on the sideline or anywhere else. Media interviews, typically done in person in or near the locker rooms, will be held over videoconference, like they have been the last month since training camp began in Owings Mills. Players will continue to be tested for COVID-19 every day. (They’re the most tested people in the country, it seems.) Reporters and team staff will spread out in the press box and capacity will be limited.

And, most notably, the Ravens recently said that cardboard cutouts of paying fans will sit in the purple seats at M&T Bank Stadium, which for the previous 22 years have been occupied by real humans. It’s a trend that other pro sports teams, from South Korean baseball organizations to the NBA bubble in Florida, have tried this year. If you ask us, it’s a brilliant idea.

For $45 if you’re a personal seat license (PSL) holder, or $55 if you’re not, your image can be one of the flat likenesses in the crowd on Sundays, and you can maybe catch the paper version of yourself in the stands while watching on TV. The team will tell you in which section of the stadium you should look. All proceeds from the cutout sales will benefit the Ravens’ COVID-19 relief efforts in the Baltimore area, and you can find more details about how to order yours here.

“Unfortunately, we can’t have fans at the game for the time being, so we wanted to give an opportunity for fans to feel like they were still there,” Deandra Duggans, the Ravens director of advertising and branding, said on the morning news the other day while showing a few examples of what the cutouts could look like.

Twenty-six of the NFL’s 32 teams have announced fanless plans, much like the Orioles have done this year. From a competitive standpoint, for the Ravens, it’s really a shame, given that Super Bowl hopes are very legitimate with Jackson, the reigning NFL Most Valuable Player, entering the prime years of his career. There should be plenty to cheer for. Originally, the team had plans to have 14,000 people in their roughly 71,000-person capacity stadium. Then the Ravens sent a revised proposal to the city and state with a cap of 7,500 fans at games, but that was shot down last week.

“That’s a bummer,” new Ravens defensive lineman Derek Wolfe said the day the decision was announced. “I’m more bummed out for the fans themselves, because they’re not going to get to [go]. Who knows? Maybe a couple of games in we might be able to start letting some fans in. Maybe by the end of the season, going to the playoffs, we’ve got a full packed stadium.”

We’re not going to blame anyone for being cautious, even with the idea of a crowd 10 percent of a normal one. So, dealing with the current reality, the Ravens have practiced at least three times in the last two weeks in an empty home stadium to get a sense of what the season will look and sound like.

On Wednesday, they practiced in the afternoon to mimic what the light will look like—mainly for Jackson and the wide receivers when they catch and throw, and for kick and punt returners when they look into the sky—during their 1 p.m. season opener against the Browns.

With no preseason games this August, the team ran through substitution patterns and game situations all with ambient noise blaring. After the first stadium practice, Ravens coach John Harbaugh said, “It was louder than I thought it was going to be. [It was] probably similar to what you have in the stadium when the crowd is there at a normal level.”

That’s good news for his fourth-year assistant Roman, and Jackson, and anyone else who doesn’t want to worry about other teams hearing what they’re saying.

“It’s different,” Roman said, “but once that ball gets placed and the whistle blows, it’s football. And we have to get ready to play some good football.”

When social distancing measures were put into place last month to limit the spread of coronavirus, members of the Baltimore arts community were some of the first to feel the economic effects.

With crowds limited to 250, then 50, then 10 before a stay-at-home order was instated, the likes of concerts, art exhibits, plays, and other performances were quickly postponed, then cancelled, bringing many city artists’ primary source of income to an abrupt halt overnight.

Almost immediately, individual artists and grassroots organizations, like artist-organizer Alanah Nichole and Necessary Tomorrows’ Sharayna Christmas, began crowdsourcing to help the creative community, inspiring the creation of the newly established Baltimore Artist Emergency Relief Fund.

“Artists are innately resilient and resourceful—they understand what it means to get by, to make the best of it, which sometimes means they don’t have safety nets,” says Maggie Villegas, executive director of the Baltimore Creatives Acceleration Network (BCAN), a city-wide initiative that supports artists creating works with limited resources. “We saw patterns of emergency response were emerging, and we started thinking about how we could coordinate resources, engage philanthropy, connect with the community, and support them.”

“We’re all trying to do better for Baltimore, and we’re stronger together,” says Jocquelyn Downs, arts council director for the Baltimore Office of Promotion & The Arts (BOPA).

Launched on Wednesday, the coalition-led grant fund—created in partnership with some 20 creative leaders, including the likes of BCAN, BOPA, the Maryland Institute College of Art, Open Works, Impact Hub, and several of the city’s arts and entertainment districts—will distribute one-time $500 grants to individual artists of every discipline, from painters and musicians to photographers and actors, who have faced financial hardship in the wake of COVID-19, such as cancelled shows or contracts. Grant funds can be used for the likes of food, shelter, medical expenses, creative supplies, and studio costs.

Since launching earlier this week, they have received more than 160 applications, via electronic submission and mail, which will be reviewed by an artist-based committee, and those approved should expect to receive checks within two weeks in hopes of alleviating immediate needs. The fund hopes to provide aid for some 250 artists, with three-quarters of its $125,000 fundraising goal raised thus far, and organizers are calling on the community for further donations, small and large.

Moving forward, they’re also hoping to use this process to better understand the needs of artists for the uncertain months ahead.

“We need to provide help now, but what are the next steps?,” says Downs, a writer and filmmaker, with BOPA currently compiling a list of other local and national resources on its website, including artist grants through the Maryland State Arts Council. “The art doesn’t stop, and artists are still creating, as they have through hardships in the past.”

Villegas, a former performing artist, agrees, stressing the importance of supporting the arts community especially in times of struggle.

“Artists contribute so much to our city—they help us tap into our humanity and process what it means to be alive, especially in times of crisis,” she says. “That’s why it’s so important that we support them now.”

Outside Open Works in Station North on Monday afternoon, Will Holman, the makerspace’s executive director, fielded questions from reporters while practicing social distancing. Standing six feet away, Holman sported the protective face shields that Open Works has been manufacturing for medical professionals in need as they continue to treat patients amidst the spread of coronavirus.

For Holman, the project serves as a way to lend a hand to the community while also keeping himself and his fellow artists afloat.

“With the government’s announcements, facilities like ours had to close,” Holman says. “Our revenue cratered and we had to cancel classes and events. We had to furlough all of our part-time staff, and our philanthropic support has been frozen because a lot of companies are having challenges themselves.”

To create the shields, which Open Works is hoping to sell to medical providers for $8 each, the organization worked off a design from Czech company Prusa Labs, collaborated with social entrepreneurial incubator Innovation Works for help with distribution, and worked with We the Builders, which is assisting in cataloguing the product and maker signup.

Recognizing hospitals’ and health care providers’ need for masks and protective face guards, Holman and his team have outsourced work to those with 3D printers across the state to assist with production. It takes the printers anywhere from four to eight hours to complete their parts, which are either delivered or shipped to Open Works.

Production truly is a collaborative effort, with the army of printers making parts of the top and bottom of the shield, and Open Works shaping the glass on its laser cutters. Together, the makers hope to produce 500 per day.

“We’ve been working 16 to 20 hours days,” Holman says. “We’re just trying to ride this wave of momentum.”

In a time when demand outweighs supply, efforts like these have sprung up across the Baltimore area. Celebrity designer Christian Siriano, a native Marylander and Baltimore School for the Arts alumnus, led the charge last week when he began designing masks for those in need in New York City. As the virus continues to spread, local artisans with the means to help are following suit, contributing any way they can.

Local designer Jill Andrews has adopted a similar spirit with the current operations at her bridal shop, Jill Andrews Gowns. Andrews has partnered with local makers such as Words with Boards’ Kim Strassner to produce a high-end mask that can fit over the top of the N95 surgical masks used at hospitals. They are selling their masks for $15.99, with additional plans to give some away for free.

“Artisans are a close-knit group,” says Andrews, who hopes to work with home tailors and seamstresses to produce as many as 500 masks per day. “We’re all very well-connected.”

Though the coronavirus outbreak remains uncharted territory for many, Andrews has previous experience creating protective medical garments. She once participated in a Johns Hopkins Hackathon, in which she helped design a suit that won a $1.7 million United States Agency for International Development (USAID) grant for Johns Hopkins to produce ebola suits that are now made in bulk by Dupont.

“We’ve done six months of work in two days,” Andrews says of the mask production. “We’re still figuring things out.”

Laurel Porter, a teacher at Charles Carroll Barrister Elementary in Pigtown, has also taken matters into her own hands. While she may not have the power of an organization behind her, she did not want to stand idly by in the midst of the pandemic.

“In times like these, when it doesn’t seem like there’s much you can do and it feels like there’s a lot out of your control, it’s really gratifying to find something that you have a skill set for that you feel like is helping,” Porter says.

On Sunday, Porter posted to Facebook about her interest in starting a mask-making project, and immediately heard from multiple healthcare providers in Annapolis and at the University of Maryland Medical Center about their need for the masks. She began sewing them herself—she’s made around 10 thus far—using materials donated by neighbors.

While Porter learned to sew from her mother and received her sewing machine as a bridal gift, she says she never anticipated using it for this purpose. “It’s hilarious for me to think about,” she adds.

Another local DIY artisan leading the charge is Christina Brunyate, owner of Domesticity fabric shop in Lauraville. Using her vast rolodex of contacts ranging from sewers to fabric providers, Brunyate has assumed a facilitator role for those who are willing to help out.

“If you’re going to have a group of people to help with something, the sewing community—which is very gung-ho about sewing—are always going to be kind and considerate and care about others,” Brunyate says. “How often are you asked to use your sewing skills for something?”

In the past few days, Brunyate has become an information hub for those inquiring about obtaining and creating masks. She’s fielded 200 messages of all kinds, even amending her voicemail to contain specific instructions for those interested in lending a hand. She’s also giving out free elastic, as well as selling discounted fabric and scraps to ensure that masks get to the hospitals that need them.

“There’s enough need coming from different places, and enough people reaching out, that I’ve told people to keep making masks,” Brunyate says. “We’ll find a place for them.”

Over the past week, there have been suggestions that efforts like these are similar to what would be prevalent in times of war. Those in the position to give back have taken an all-hands-on-deck approach, diverting their attention to something impactful while social distancing.

“It feels great to be able to focus on something,” Holman says. “It’s why so many people have come out of the woodwork to help. This is an unprecedented national emergency. It’s emotional—I’m shell shocked at the way the community has come together.”