On the 40th anniversary of the Orioles’ 1983 World Series championship (check out our full feature on the win in our April 2023 issue,) we queried Eddie Murray—the O’s iconic, switch-hitting slugger, about his memories of that season. The following is a lightly edited version of that email Q&A:

How did you guys feel in spring training and going into Opening Day in 1983? After an epic late-season playoff bid, the team fell just short on the last day of the ’82 season, losing to the Milwaukee Brewers before a packed house at Memorial Stadium. And then of course Earl Weaver retired, and Joe Altobelli was named the new manager in the off-season.
You couldn’t get any more confident than us that year coming in. We lost on the last day of the season in ’82 and I tell you—we really thought we were going to win. To lose that game, we just knew we were winning in ’83, and we actually came out and did exactly that. I think any coach could tell we believed in ourselves, and we did.

Was there also lingering disappointment from 1979, when the team lost the World Series to the Pirates, or from coming so close to the playoffs in ’80 and ’81, as well as ’82?
The ‘82 season gave us all of the fuel we needed. We were really close at the end, and it was really disappointing. To get up 3-1 [in the World Series], and to lose, that was really tough. You just try to keep moving on and dust it off your shoulders.

In those Orioles Magic days, when the club was smashing attendance records at Memorial Stadium, what was the biggest reason for the team’s incredible success?
The reason we won is because we really believed in what we were doing. You have to catch the ball in order to win, and you have to be able to pitch the ball. A lot of people would come in and would play us knowing we weren’t going to give them the game. It was going to be a tough game. We weren’t going to make a lot of errors—it was what Baltimore was known for. Teams had to go out there and play their complete game because we weren’t going to give it to them.

You were in a bit of a World Series slump going into what proved to be the decisive Game 5 in Philadelphia. As any O’s fan of a certain age recalls, you subsequently smashed two home runs to pace the series-clinching, 5-0 win. What were you thinking in the clubhouse beforehand, and what’s your recollection of that game?
[Veteran second baseman] Richie Dauer comes over and says, “How you doing kid? How you doing?” And I say, “What do you mean, ‘How am I doing? I’m doing good.’” Then Richie starts running around the locker room yelling, “The kid’s guaranteed it! The kid’s guaranteed it.”

I start yelling at Richie not to do that. But I go up to bat the first time and I hit a home run. I come in the dugout, shake everybody’s hand, sit down, and then I look at Richie and say, “Richie, that’s not it.” So, I go up to bat the second time, and I think I hit my name on the scoreboard. I come back in the dugout, shake everybody’s hand, and sit down and look down at the end of the bench and say, “Richie, that’s not it.”

You don’t want people to know what’s hurting, but I only actually had one good swing [in me] batting right-handed. I turn to the end of the dugout and, when they bring in a left-handed pitcher, I look down the dugout and I say, “I’ve got one swing.” I get up to bat and I hit it out of the ballpark into the upper deck, but it just misses the foul pole by five feet. [Nearly, a third home run.] Then I say to myself “Oh god, that’s it. Now all I can do is poke the ball to right field.”

With the franchise in decline by the late-’80s, you were eventually traded, playing for the Dodgers, Mets, and Indians before coming home to Baltimore and hitting your 500th home run at Camden Yards in 1996. Did it feel like a full circle moment for you like it did for the fans?
Absolutely, but you’re glad to get it over. You’re just so close and glad to get there. I told Cal as soon as I came in the door that particular day, that I would hit it that day. He asked me why, and I said “Well, nobody had bothered me. Nobody has said anything about it today.” Then we were running our sprints early in the evening after batting practice to get ready for the game. I run my first sprint and I get back and I’m ready to run my second, and I see they’re showing something on the videoboard. I didn’t know it was the same day that Cal broke the record [the year before] for his consecutive games.

I also had to get it in under the 12 a.m. hour because we had rain that day. It was good to get it over with.

So, it’s been 40 years since the last ticker-tape parade for the Orioles, which was just an amazing scene and outpouring of affection for the team. [See photo, above.] We hope there will be another someday, the club finally seems on a solid trajectory, but how well do you remember that experience?
The parade was outstanding. You could play this game a lot of years and not have a parade, so you won’t ever forget it. I can still remember somebody handed me a little kid that was on the car for a little bit with me. The parade is a moment that goes right along with the World Series—you don’t get many of those moments.

ven though he’s wearing enemy colors, Ed Soth is greeted the same way he usually is when he walks into Robbie’s First Base—with some good-natured ribbing.

“We’re going to stop letting you in here with that hat,” says Robbie Davis Jr., half of what might be the most well-known Senior-Junior tandem in the world of Baltimore sports . . . memorabilia. “How’d you get to be a Yankees fan?”

The conversation that ensues is similar to ones that take place in bars, at barbershops, and during ballgames every day: a group of old friends shooting the breeze about sports. The fact that it happens to be taking place in what is likely the world’s only sports memorabilia/mail service store just adds to the fun.

When Robbie Davis Sr., 71, opened the store in this small Lutherville strip mall in 1989, he had no idea that one day he’d be working alongside his sons, Robbie Jr., 43, and Matthew, 32. He didn’t know that the business would morph from dealing primarily with FedEx and UPS packages to making deals for Frank Robinson and Johnny Unitas autographs. He certainly couldn’t have imagined that the family would star in an ABC reality series and be featured in a Netflix show scheduled to drop this summer.

The exchange going down is exactly what has attracted television producers, audiences, and, most importantly, regular old customers to Robbie’s.

“I grew up at the old stadium, used to sneak in all the time,” says Soth, who often comes in to send packages and stays to hang out. “Want to hear a funny story?”

It’s a rhetorical question—everyone at Robbie’s is always up for a laugh.

“One day I was there, I’m 11 years old, and I’m sitting in the stands and Mantle is in the field,” Soth says. “Ball is hit, comes right to me, and I reach over and grab [it]. Ball hits me in the hand and falls to the [warning] track. Swear to God, Mantle walks over, picks the ball up, looks at me, and I think he’s gonna toss it up to me. That sonofabitch turned and walked away.”

Sitting at his cluttered desk behind the counter, Senior, as many people call him, lets out a belly laugh. From his slightly less messy desk a few feet away, Junior does the same.

“We have a lot of people who just come in and talk sports,” Junior says. “We get 85-year-old grandmas in here on a Monday morning talking Ravens. They’ll say, ‘Did you see that play that Lamar made?’ I can’t believe my ears. That’s what makes it cool.”

Robbie Davis Sr. grew up in West Baltimore, where, as he likes to remind people, he was a “really good” baseball player at Edmondson-Westside High School.

“I always tell my son that even though he got signed to a pro contract, I was better than him,” he says. “And he can’t refute it, because I’m the only one who’s seen us both play.”

After graduating, he served as a combat medic in the Army before going into the car business. At one point, he co-owned 12 dealerships in Maryland, Virginia, and Pennsylvania. Among them were All-Star Dodge and All-Star Chevrolet on Route 40. Orioles’ legends Brooks Robinson and Eddie Murray were among the athletes that did commercials for the dealerships, and Davis developed friendships with several guys on the team. When the O’s went on road trips, Davis would occasionally house-sit for Murray.

“Eddie Murray knew me before I knew who he was,” Junior says. “To me he was just a guy who was friends with my dad.”

One of Senior’s partners at the dealership collected baseball cards, and he took note when the man made some money buying and selling them. When he left the car business and opened a postal services store in Catonsville, then another in Lutherville, Senior put out a few boxes of baseball cards on the weekends.

Quickly, he realized that the Topps were topping his sales. He began buying and selling other brands that were hot at the time, like Upper Deck, and closed the Catonsville store to focus on the one in Lutherville.

 

“. . . THE BEST PART WAS GETTING TO BE AROUND PEOPLE THAT WERE AS PASSIONATE ABOUT COLLECTING MEMORABILIA AS WE ARE.”

 

“You never have a business where you can make money right away,” he says. “Well, the first month we opened up we were in the black.”

Perhaps his biggest challenge was keeping his sons from playing with his inventory. Where Senior saw an investment, Junior saw a pastime.

“He would buy all these unopened boxes and tell me, ‘Don’t open them,’” Junior recalls. “He would put them in our house in this room, and of course, I’m a little kid, so I’d be in there opening the packs because that’s what kids do. It’s no fun to just sit there and look at a box.”

A baseball addict from a young age, Junior played center field in college and was signed by the Milwaukee Brewers. When his career fizzled out in the minor leagues, he began working with his father in the store. As Robbie’s grew, the Davises began buying and selling all kinds of sports memorabilia: jerseys, autographed baseballs, seats from the old Memorial Stadium and Cole Field House. One of the most expensive items they acquired was a Babe Ruth signed baseball for $20,000. They later sold it for a tidy profit.

As their reputation continued to grow, more and more athletes started stopping by the store. Al Bumbry has been friends with Senior since they met in the mid-’80s. The Orioles Hall of Famer, who was awarded a Bronze Star for his service in the Army during the Vietnam War, still drops in often.

“The store presents a very social, laidback, easygoing atmosphere,” says Bumbry, the 1973 American League Rookie of the Year and a member of Baltimore’s 1983 World Series championship team. “People don’t feel pressured there because Bob’s a people person. Once he connects with you and becomes friends with you, he’s one of those guys that I would take in the foxhole with me.”

Lewis Brown was a 15-year-old kid when he first went to Robbie’s.

“Senior, he likes to take chances on people,” he says. “I didn’t grow up the richest, so sometimes I’d be in there and I’d go, ‘Mom, I want to get this,’ and she’d say, ‘Well I don’t have the money for it.’ There was a Barry Bonds-signed baseball. It was like a hundred and some dollars. He was like, ‘Just take it, and when you get the money just come in and pay for it.’ Ain’t nobody does that.”

It took Brown, now 35, a few weeks to scrape together the money. When he returned to the store, Senior offered him a job. He’s been working there ever since. When he was trying to save $10,000 for a down payment on a house, Senior asked how he was going to do it.

“I was like, ‘I don’t know. I’ll figure it out,’” Brown says. “He goes, ‘I’ll lend you the money and you can just pay me back when you get it.’ That’s the type of guy he is.”

In 2010, the producers of the reality show Pawn Stars contacted the Davises with an idea. They wanted to film a series about the business and its cast of characters. The core four in the show would be Robbie Sr., Robbie Jr., Brown, and Robbie Reier, another longtime employee. There was only one problem: way too many Robbies. Thus, Senior became Senior, Junior became Junior, Brown became “Sweet Lou,” and the then-baby-faced Reier became “Shaggy.”

In 12 episodes of Ball Boys, the guys goofed on each other, debated sports, negotiated with buyers and sellers, and interacted with greats from the sports world. They played basketball with former University of Michigan Fab Fiver Jalen Rose. Hall of Fame quarterback Warren Moon fired footballs at them. The legendary running back Jim Brown came to the store, but of all the sports royalty they met, baseball’s hit king, Pete Rose, was their favorite.

After shooting a segment, Rose asked for a restaurant recommendation for lunch. When Senior told him the production company would only pay a pittance for their food, Rose whipped $10,000 cash out of his pocket.

“He’s the kind of guy that if you go to a bar you want to hang out with,” Senior says.

When Sweet Lou asked for a personalized autograph, Rose wrote, “To Lou, you big fat piece of shit.”

“I loved that,” Brown says.

The show ran for just one season in 2012, but it was rebroadcast for years after that and is still available on ABC’s app. It raised the store’s profile both locally and nationally—they still get customers who say they heard of Robbie’s from Ball Boys.

“It was awesome,” Junior says. “I liked being on TV, but the best part was getting to be around people that were as passionate about collecting memorabilia as we are. We met people from all around the country, and we got to share our stories.”

Bob Windsor, aka Burger King Bob, is milling about the store, going back and forth with Senior about . . .something or other. The two are old friends. They get together on Sundays to watch football at Windsor’s house, where he makes sure Senior always has chips to snack on and Hennessy to wash them down.

An avid collector, he’s bought everything from a Babe Ruth-autographed baseball to Michael Jordan’s shoes at Robbie’s. But the products aren’t what keep him coming back.

“If there was a pot belly stove and an old dog, you’d be there for hours every day,” says Windsor, whose nickname stems from his job as a “financial guy” for several Burger King franchises. “It’s that homey.”

That’s never changed at Robbie’s, but the preferences of memorabilia consumers are ever-evolving. After a down period in the ’90s and 2000s, cards are back in vogue. And not just baseball cards. These days, Pokémon is as popular as Paul Molitor.

“I had a kid buy two $8 packs and he got a $700 card in there,” Junior says. “That’s what these cards are all about now. It’s all about the gamble.”

That being said, there are some athletes whose appeal is timeless in Baltimore. Cal Ripken Jr., Brooks Robinson, Gary Williams, and Ray Lewis items always sell quickly. But there’s one athlete whose popularity Junior says is unprecedented.

“Nothing’s been like Lamar,” he says of the Ravens quarterback. “[Jackson] has been the biggest craze that we’ve seen in this business since we’ve been open. People can’t get enough of him.”

Although the Davises are hometown fans—they live and die with the Orioles and the Ravens—and love sports memorabilia, the business requires a sort of cold lack of sentimentality. Anything they acquire could be gone the next moment.

“People say, ‘Is this for sale?’” Senior says. “I say, ‘Come on, if it’s got a price tag on it, it’s for sale.’”

Still, there are a few items in which they seem to take special pride. Near Senior’s desk hangs a signed photo of Orioles Mike Morgan and Fred Lynn from the mid-’80s. Lynn’s note reads, “To Bob, the second-best ballplayer I know.”

“That’s because I always told him I was as good as him,” Senior says, chuckling.

Above Junior’s desk is another framed photo, this one with Lynn and Eddie Murray standing over Senior, who is sitting in a chair with his then-eight-year-old son, Robbie Jr., on his lap.

Neither of those items have a price tag.

Ed Reed said he didn’t want to take up too much time, but given his emotions and the occasion being what it was, he spent 36 minutes talking Saturday night during his Pro Football Hall of Fame induction speech.

The beloved former Ravens safety—who is known for 11 years in Baltimore, 61 interceptions in purple and black, a Super Bowl win, and so many other fun memories like record-setting touchdowns of 107 and 106 yards—admittedly wrote parts of his speech on-the-fly (actually, on-the-scene) while he sat on stage in Canton, Ohio, and listened to the other 2019 inductees deliver their own thoughts. Reed went sixth, and when it was his turn, he took his phone from the jacket pocket of the trademark gold blazer that football Hall-of-Famers are gifted, and started reading.

“This little light of mine,” Reed said. “I had to let it shine.”

Here are 10 more wise and entertaining anecdotes from Reed’s coronation as one of football’s all-time greats:

• One point that Reed clearly wanted to articulate was that the people you surround yourself with, and the decisions you make, matter. Reed, now 40, talked about how he grew up in a crime-infested (yeah, he said that word) part of New Orleans where he had the choice to get involved in the drug scene. “You quickly become the things you hang around. Your environment is key,” he said. “I made the choice not to hang around people who were selling drugs, or guys who weren’t going to school.”

• He told a story about a police officer in Shrewsbury, Louisiana—who encouraged Reed to follow the “right” path: “I had to mature real fast because of my environment—crime, drugs, police, all kinds of things going on,” Reed said. “We were always taught to run from the police, and dodge the police officers. [But] it wasn’t always bad police, like people think. I remember one time, I’m yelling back to my cousins because most of them were selling drugs or something. I was yelling that the police were coming and the officer heard me. He called me to his car and he said, ‘Come here young man, get in the back.’ I lost it. … He said, ‘I’m taking you home.’ I said, ‘Oh my god, don’t do that. Take me to jail.’ … Because my momma’s home. I can remember him saying, ‘I see you around here, playing sports. You don’t need to be hanging with those other kids and other guys, because you have something.'”

• Reed spoke much more about his parents, Ed Reed Sr. and Karen—as well as his siblings and other mentors—who allowed him to live during his junior and senior years at Destrehan High School at the home of the principal’s secretary. “I needed a different environment,” Reed said. Jeanne Hall took Reed “under her wing,” and helped him get the ACT standardized-test scores he needed to get into college. This is part of the reason why Reed has been so involved in charity work at Booker T. Washington Middle School in West Baltimore for the last two decades. Somewhat related, on parenting in general, Reed said: “Your job is to provide and nurture an environment for your child to grow up. Raise them to leave the house, not to stay. You don’t want kids at 30 and 40 years old putting their name on the milk.”

• There were other light-hearted moments, too, like when Reed acknowledged that the 2001 national championship team that he played on at the University of Miami wouldn’t beat any NFL teams like some observers said they could. In the same breath, he couldn’t help but take a backhanded swipe at two of the Ravens’ division opponents. “I would not disrespect this league, not even those Cincinnati Bengals, hold on, or the Cleveland Browns,” Reed said to laughter and a few boos in the crowd (he was in Ohio, after all), before pausing and saying, “I have the utmost respect for both of those organizations. I have 30 picks between them, too. Not my fault y’all change quarterbacks.”

• After saying, “There’s no place like BALTIMORE!” Reed accidentally thanked New England Patriots coach Bill Belichick (oops!) instead of his former head coach Brian Billick while acknowledging past and current members of the Ravens front office. It might’ve been a Freudian slip, as Reed has recently told Belichick he wants to be part of the Patriots coaching staff. In any case, current coach John Harbaugh’s reaction was completely appropriate…

• On showing up to Baltimore for his first public appearance as a rookie, wearing a throwback Cleveland Browns’ Jim Brown jersey, Reed said: “Baltimore booed me… I walk on stage and they’re like ‘Take it off! Take it off!’ I took it off and y’all loved me ever since. I loved it all. especially when I heard that “Reeeeeed!” in M&T Bank Stadium. What I wouldn’t give for one more interception.”

• On what he might be doing if he weren’t giving this speech: “I’d rather be smoking a cigar, just chillin’, taking my time.”

• On his bronze bust, which must be one of the best likenesses that will ever be displayed at the Pro Football Hall of Fame: “I look just like the guy.”

• Reed also spoke about the recent mass shooting in El Paso, Texas, which happened just hours before the Hall of Fame ceremony: “In general, across this country, it’s something we really need to address. I ask America, what’s our standard?”

• And, finally, a few big-picture parting thoughts that he wanted to leave everyone with: “I never compared myself to any other player, and you shouldn’t compare yourself to anybody else or worry about the people who don’t like you,” Reed said. “Everyone has their own greatness, and you reach your own greatness [depending] on your environment and structure, the company you keep, and your attitude. There will be good and bad, right and wrong. Your reaction and choice—good or bad—has consequences that affect you and those around you. Help somebody. That’s what we’re supposed to. That’s what being human is about, leaving this place better than we got it.”

Mike Mussina, now 50 years old with gray in his goatee, was just finishing coaching a practice of his son’s high school basketball team Tuesday night in Montoursville, Pennsylvania, when his phone rang. The voice on the other end delivered the good news. In Mussina’s sixth year on the Baseball Hall of Fame ballot, the former Orioles and Yankees pitcher was finally chosen to be enshrined among the game’s greats in Cooperstown.

Once he shrugged off the bit of surprise, left the gym, and texted his wife and oldest son at college to let them know, Mussina soon spoke by phone to commentators on the MLB Network about the honor and how he earned it, via a remarkably consistent career marked by at least 15 wins in 11 0f his 18 pro seasons, which looks even better in hindsight given the performance-enhancing drugs era he pitched in.

“Moose,” as crowds often bellowed in praise, played his first 10 years with the O’s, making the All-Star game five times and winning 147 games before he chose to sign as a free agent in 2000 with the team in pinstripes. Mussina played his final eight seasons in New York, winning another 123 games, yet never captured the elusive championship he sought, though he did reach the World Series in 2001 and 2003 and won 20 games in his final year before retiring in 2008.

All this background begs a relatively innocuous, some might say even silly, question. But given our allegiances and the history at hand, it’s rather timely and important: Which logo will Mussina, or more precisely, his bronze bust likeness, wear on his cap when he is enshrined in the Hall of Fame Museum this August in upstate New York?

There can only be one. None is an option, too. Either way, the Hall of Fame’s crack research staff tries to decide where the player “made his most indelible mark,” Baseball Hall of Fame president Jeff Idelson has said. Importantly, officials also get input from the subject himself, but to hear Mussina speak about it, they won’t get much help from him. He’s torn, and open to suggestions.

“Both places were huge factors in my career,” he told reporters in New York on Wednesday. “[You have] the place you start, the team that drafts you, brings you to the major leagues, and gives you an opportunity, and an organization like the New York Yankees, it’s a tough decision. I’m going to need some guidance, some help—opinions, options, whatever they are—to ultimately make that decision.”

If you ask us, it’s a pretty clear case. We want a big O’s logo or an Oriole bird on his hat, no questions asked.

The Yankees have had plenty of extravagantly paid, glitzy stars, but Mussina will be the first Baltimore pitcher to go into the HOF since Jim Palmer in 1990. He was homegrown talent, twice drafted by the Orioles (first out of high school and then out of Stanford) and grew into the team’s best pitcher of the last 30 years. A right-hander with precision control who got by at times with a knuckle curveball, he always seemed to finish his throwing motion in exactly the same position—that damn right leg landing in the identical spot off the mound.

His 15 strikeouts against Cleveland in one game of the 1997 American League Championship Series are legendary. That came after he famously out-dueled Randy Johnson at Camden Yards in the series-clincher the round before. And, for crying out loud, Mussina was the winning pitcher the night Cal Ripken, Jr. broke Lou Gehrig’s consecutive-games-played streak.

He won more games as an Oriole than a Yankee, made more All-Star teams, threw 456 more innings, and had a slightly better earned run average while wearing No. 35 in an orange and white uniform. Do we need more?

It’d be case closed if Mussina finished his career here. But that didn’t happen. Still, we can forgive him for bolting to the Yankees after Orioles management skimped on a hefty long-term contract extension for the team’s ace after the spectacular 1997 season in which the O’s led the AL East from start to finish. Three years later, when Mussina, then 32, was the most sought-after free-agent in baseball, the Yankees and manager Joe Torre courted him in the days after they won the 2000 World Series, and outbid the O’s by one year and almost $30 million while promising deep postseason runs. That’s a hard deal to turn down.

But now it’s time for Mussina to be remembered for where he started. The Orioles already inducted him to the team’s Hall of Fame in 2012. It would feel just plain weird if Mussina’s cap bears an interlocking NY in the most beloved Hall of all, yet his number is retired at Camden Yards, as it should, or a statue of his windup joins the six other larger-then-life guys beyond centerfield, as it could.

Reading between the lines, “I almost split my career down the middle between the two organizations,” Mussina said, he might be angling for the no-logo option. That’d be better than the other alternative. But Moose, if you see this, Baltimore wants the hat.

A 13-time Pro Bowler, two-time defensive player of the year, Super Bowl 35 MVP, and the only player in NFL history to produce at least 40 sacks and 30 interceptions is none other than Baltimore Ravens’ Ray Lewis. He also holds a Ravens’ franchise-record of 2,643 career tackles, including a single-season best of 225 stops in 2003. With a resume like that, it’s only fitting to celebrate his induction into the 2018 NFL Hall of Fame with a parade through the city.

“For 17 years, we could point to No. 52 and tell the other players, ‘Follow his lead,” said Ravens general manager Ozzie Newsome, who drafted Lewis. “It was our privilege to have him as a Raven. We are all better for having him here. His play on game days speaks for itself. When you talk about the great players of all time, no matter the position, he is among the greatest of the great.”

On Saturday, September 22, Mayor Catherine Pugh will hold a parade to honor the Ravens’ latest inductee. Beginning at 10 a.m. on Key Highway near Rash Field, the parade will travel through downtown and end at City Hall where both Pugh and Lewis will speak.

The team that Lewis called home for nearly 20 years will honor him during Sunday’s game against the Denver Broncos. Prior to the game, too, fans will get the chance to snap a few pics with his Hall of Fame bust on RavensWalk. There’s also a giveaway of a commemorative Ray Lewis Hall of Fame coin upon entry.

Just before kickoff and after player intros, Lewis will take the field—perhaps we will get to see the squirrel dance at M&T Bank Stadium one last time? At halftime, Lewis will be presented with his Hall of Fame ring in an on-field ceremony. No long speeches this time though, the game must go on.

The only thing that would make this weekend better is if the Ravens get a win. After last week’s game—they struggled on both sides, especially defensively when linebacker C.J. Mosley was carted off the field—the fans could use a W. An iconic, inspirational locker room speech from Lewis might just do the trick.

Cal Ripken Jr., Michael Phelps, and Ray Lewis are arguably Baltimore’s most recognizable sports figures. They all have appeared in hundreds of commercials between them, but Lewis is taking his acting career to the next level. The former Ravens linebacker will be making a cameo in an upcoming film shot and based in Baltimore.

Potential was created by Maryland-based writer and director Jason Slawson and funded by local production company SNM Global Holdings. According to IMDb, it’s a dramatic comedy about life choices and “adulting” in a fast-paced society.

“Potential follows the lives of four thirty-somethings trying to jump-start their respective futures,” as it reads on IMDb. “Broke and struggling, they fight to make ends meet and gain forward momentum in their lives, all the while dealing with dead-end jobs, faltering relationships, and the successes of their friends.”

During a Q&A between the producer Grant Slawson and CEO of SNM Global Troy Lowman, the two discussed Lewis’ role in the upcoming film. Lowman says that Lewis showed interest in the production company and thought giving him a cameo was a great idea.

“He’s not just a Baltimore icon—he’s a national icon,” Lowman said. “I think it would give the movie some exposure it wouldn’t otherwise get. He’s also a pretty funny guy. I won’t spoil it for everybody, but I think it will be one of the highlights of the movie.”

Although Lewis has never been in a movie—we aren’t counting his 2014 cameo in Draft Day—and the producers thought including him would bring a wider demographic in to see the film. The fact that the movie is set in Baltimore didn’t hurt either. Lewis was in the city last week for the film’s casting call at Jimmy’s Seafood in Dundalk—which will also make a cameo.

There’s no word yet on when the film will be released or the character Lewis is playing, but pre-production is set to begin in August. And the jury is still out on whether or not the legendary linebacker will perform his signature squirrel dance.

“I’m really excited about the movie, especially the comedy side of it,” Lewis said in a January interview. “There’s this thing about me always being so tough, but there’s another side of me that’s just pure laughter. This is my first time behind the camera, but I can also say it won’t be my last.”

From his first days as Ravens head coach, Brian Billick knew there was something different about Ray Lewis.

It wasn’t the way this 6-foot-1, 240-pound freak of nature could roam gracefully from sideline to sideline, then focus like a laser on his target and deliver a bone-rattling hit. No, Billick had already seen Lewis do that. Billick had been the offensive coordinator for the Minnesota Vikings when they played against Lewis and the Ravens in 1998. Billick had already studied Lewis and devised a game plan to account for him.

But upon joining the Ravens in 1999, Billick was most struck by something that never showed up in the box score.

“It was shocking to me,” Billick said, “coming to the Ravens and seeing again and again how readily the veterans, and I’m talking guys like Rod Woodson, future Hall of Famer . . . how readily they gave themselves over to Ray’s leadership.”

Other contributors include O.J. Brigance, Haloti Ngata, Jonathan Ogden, Ed Reed, Chuck Pagano, Rex Ryan, Jerome Bettis, Eddie George, and many more. Read all 52 memories of No. 52 at PressBoxOnline.com/Ray.

Hard hits and motivational speeches are what recent Pro Football Hall of Fame inductee Ray Lewis was known for. Baltimore’s 1996 first-round draft pick becomes the second homegrown Raven to earn the honors (aside from left tackle Jonathan Ogden in 2013). When it came time to discuss Lewis’s candidacy, there wasn’t much to say—his talent and natural born leadership speak for themselves.

During his nearly two-decade career, he was a 13-time Pro Bowler, two-time defensive player of the year, and Super Bowl 35 MVP. He is also the only player in NFL history to produce at least 40 sacks and 30 interceptions. Lewis also holds a Ravens’ franchise-record of 2,643 career tackles, including a single-season best of 225 stops in 2003.

“For 17 years, we could point to No. 52 and tell the other players, ‘Follow his lead,” said Ravens general manager Ozzie Newsome, who drafted Lewis. “It was our privilege to have him as a Raven. We are all better for having him here. His play on game days speaks for itself. When you talk about the great players of all time, no matter the position, he is among the greatest of the great.” 

Here are some Lewis highlights, from memorable sacks to the patented squirrel dance, that made him a shoe-in for the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

Lewis was one of the hardest hitting linebackers.
“In the first half of his career, when the run game was the most prominent, he was a beast,” said former Raven Shannon Sharpe. “He singlehandedly shut down great backs like Jerome Bettis, Eddie George, and Fred Taylor. No inside linebacker in the history of the game has the résumé of the man I call ‘Suga.'”

He was an entertainer.
Although Lewis was the on-field hypeman, he was also the main attraction before the coin was even tossed with his famous tunnel dance to Nelly’s “Hot in Herre.” Fans and opponents alike made sure to watch—and even imitate—his signature moves before he hit the field. 

He will forever be the best at motivational pep talks, on and off the field.
“What needs to be said about a guy who was, by far, the best leader I witnessed in my 17 years of play?” said former teammate Rod Woodson. “Not only a great leader to the whole team, but a mentor to teammates and players on other teams—so unselfish and so selfless.”