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Old Colts sack AFC champs
Baltimore chops any ties to Indy
BY RICH CIMINI
DAILY NEWS SPORTS WRITER
MIAMI - They get together on the first Tuesday of every month, football heroes from a halcyon era. A group of old Colts, calling themselves the Baltimore Football Club, Inc., meets at the Ocean Pride restaurant in Lutherville, Md. It's a tradition, and these men, true blue and white, don't take tradition lightly.
"We tell the same stories, but they get better," said the gregarious Art Donovan, 81, a legendary storyteller and a Hall of Fame defensive tackle from the 1950s.
"We don't get any new members," Stan White, 57, a linebacker from the '70s, said with a chuckle. Turning serious, he added, "Actually, the membership declines a little every year."
It's an exclusive fraternity - only former Baltimore Colts allowed - with no grandfather clause that allows you to hang out with these grandfathers. The Colts left for Indianapolis in 1984 and, as far as these fellows are concerned, the Colts died right then.
It's an old wound, but it has been reopened now that the Colts have reached the Super Bowl for the first time in their Indianapolis era. No doubt, it'll be discussed at the meeting a week from Tuesday, two days after the Colts face the Bears in Super Bowl XLI.
The old Colts have varying degrees of indignation, but one thing they agree on is this: Their colors, their logo and their records shouldn't belong to Indianapolis. Indeed, tradition shouldn't travel. For that reason, and because of other trapped emotions, there will be mixed feelings when they watch the game.
"It's a good thing for the Indianapolis fans and the people of Indianapolis, but I'm not going to be happy when I hear the announcer talking about Indianapolis' history and saying it's their third Super Bowl," said Bruce Laird, 56, a safety from the '70s. "It's not their third Super Bowl. It's their first."
The Baltimore Colts, who changed the face of pro football with their epic overtime victory over the Giants in the 1958 NFL Championship Game, reached the Super Bowl in the 1968 and 1970 seasons. In March 1984, the late owner Bob Irsay staged his clandestine move to Indianapolis, bolting in the middle of the night with Mayflower moving trucks.
In a city that worshipped its football stars, from the late Johnny Unitas to Raymond Berry to Lenny Moore to Gino Marchetti, it was a devastating loss. Anybody who saw the movie "Diner" knows how much the Colts meant to Baltimore - and still do.
"The players lived here, worked here and died here, and now their children live here," said Tom Matte, 67, a running back from the '60s who still gets recognized around town. "We had our own identity."
Berry, who teamed with Unitas to form one of the most prolific quarterback-receiver tandems in history, said, "To me, the Indianapolis Colts don't have any connection to the Baltimore Colts. I don't see any connection whatsoever. The Baltimore Colts will always be the Baltimore Colts."
Perhaps, but Indianapolis took the colors and the horseshoe logo and filled its press guide with statistics that were accumulated in Baltimore. When the team moved, Unitas asked to have his statistics stricken from the record book. He still holds the team record for career touchdown passes (287), but Peyton Manning needs only 13 to surpass the legendary quarterback. It will be a bittersweet moment when that happens.
"Our records should be our records. That's what people are (ticked) about," said Matte, galled that his famous wristband from the '65 championship game is displayed with Indianapolis Colts memorabilia in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
Obviously, Irsay, whose son, Jim, inherited the team, isn't remembered fondly. When Unitas owned a restaurant called the Golden Arm, he liked to tell people there was a Bob Irsay room - the bathroom. Asked to comment on the late owner, Laird replied, "No, I don't speak ill of the dead."
Lou Michaels, 71, a defensive end and kicker from the 1960s, told the Baltimore Sun last week, "(The Colts) are a bunch of sneaks who'd sell their own mothers to win the Super Bowl. I don't like the way they left town; they didn't do things the way normal human beings do them."
Manning, who appreciates the history of the game more than most current players, was thrilled to be drafted by a team with so much tradition, but he was disappointed to learn the separation between past and present.
"When I got here (in 1998), I found out that none of them embraced Indianapolis," Manning said in "Johnny U," a 2006 biography by Tom Callahan. "None of the old players ever came to practice. It disappointed me. I wanted to feel connected to them."
Truth is, some of the old Colts believe they've been alienated by the franchise. In turn, when Indianapolis tried to organize an alumni day in 1988, none of the players showed up. No one interviewed for this story said he's planning to be in Miami for the Super Bowl.
Many have adopted the Ravens as their new team, and they're quick to note the Ravens reached the Super Bowl - and won it - before Indianapolis. That, some of the old Colts said, represented closure. In Baltimore, their spirit is alive, especially at the Sports Legends at Camden Yards Museum, where an entire wing is devoted to Unitas.
"It's like going to Bethlehem and seeing the manger," said John Ziemann, the museum's deputy director and the former leader of the Baltimore Colts' marching band.
Many old Colts still live in Baltimore, where they're active in the community. Just like the old days. Anywhere from 10 to 30 will attend the monthly meetings, where the purpose - aside from laughs and beers - is to assist retired players down on their luck.
After all these years, they're still true blue - Baltimore blue.
Originally published on January 29, 2007
LINK
Baltimore chops any ties to Indy
BY RICH CIMINI
DAILY NEWS SPORTS WRITER
MIAMI - They get together on the first Tuesday of every month, football heroes from a halcyon era. A group of old Colts, calling themselves the Baltimore Football Club, Inc., meets at the Ocean Pride restaurant in Lutherville, Md. It's a tradition, and these men, true blue and white, don't take tradition lightly.
"We tell the same stories, but they get better," said the gregarious Art Donovan, 81, a legendary storyteller and a Hall of Fame defensive tackle from the 1950s.
"We don't get any new members," Stan White, 57, a linebacker from the '70s, said with a chuckle. Turning serious, he added, "Actually, the membership declines a little every year."
It's an exclusive fraternity - only former Baltimore Colts allowed - with no grandfather clause that allows you to hang out with these grandfathers. The Colts left for Indianapolis in 1984 and, as far as these fellows are concerned, the Colts died right then.
It's an old wound, but it has been reopened now that the Colts have reached the Super Bowl for the first time in their Indianapolis era. No doubt, it'll be discussed at the meeting a week from Tuesday, two days after the Colts face the Bears in Super Bowl XLI.
The old Colts have varying degrees of indignation, but one thing they agree on is this: Their colors, their logo and their records shouldn't belong to Indianapolis. Indeed, tradition shouldn't travel. For that reason, and because of other trapped emotions, there will be mixed feelings when they watch the game.
"It's a good thing for the Indianapolis fans and the people of Indianapolis, but I'm not going to be happy when I hear the announcer talking about Indianapolis' history and saying it's their third Super Bowl," said Bruce Laird, 56, a safety from the '70s. "It's not their third Super Bowl. It's their first."
The Baltimore Colts, who changed the face of pro football with their epic overtime victory over the Giants in the 1958 NFL Championship Game, reached the Super Bowl in the 1968 and 1970 seasons. In March 1984, the late owner Bob Irsay staged his clandestine move to Indianapolis, bolting in the middle of the night with Mayflower moving trucks.
In a city that worshipped its football stars, from the late Johnny Unitas to Raymond Berry to Lenny Moore to Gino Marchetti, it was a devastating loss. Anybody who saw the movie "Diner" knows how much the Colts meant to Baltimore - and still do.
"The players lived here, worked here and died here, and now their children live here," said Tom Matte, 67, a running back from the '60s who still gets recognized around town. "We had our own identity."
Berry, who teamed with Unitas to form one of the most prolific quarterback-receiver tandems in history, said, "To me, the Indianapolis Colts don't have any connection to the Baltimore Colts. I don't see any connection whatsoever. The Baltimore Colts will always be the Baltimore Colts."
Perhaps, but Indianapolis took the colors and the horseshoe logo and filled its press guide with statistics that were accumulated in Baltimore. When the team moved, Unitas asked to have his statistics stricken from the record book. He still holds the team record for career touchdown passes (287), but Peyton Manning needs only 13 to surpass the legendary quarterback. It will be a bittersweet moment when that happens.
"Our records should be our records. That's what people are (ticked) about," said Matte, galled that his famous wristband from the '65 championship game is displayed with Indianapolis Colts memorabilia in the Pro Football Hall of Fame.
Obviously, Irsay, whose son, Jim, inherited the team, isn't remembered fondly. When Unitas owned a restaurant called the Golden Arm, he liked to tell people there was a Bob Irsay room - the bathroom. Asked to comment on the late owner, Laird replied, "No, I don't speak ill of the dead."
Lou Michaels, 71, a defensive end and kicker from the 1960s, told the Baltimore Sun last week, "(The Colts) are a bunch of sneaks who'd sell their own mothers to win the Super Bowl. I don't like the way they left town; they didn't do things the way normal human beings do them."
Manning, who appreciates the history of the game more than most current players, was thrilled to be drafted by a team with so much tradition, but he was disappointed to learn the separation between past and present.
"When I got here (in 1998), I found out that none of them embraced Indianapolis," Manning said in "Johnny U," a 2006 biography by Tom Callahan. "None of the old players ever came to practice. It disappointed me. I wanted to feel connected to them."
Truth is, some of the old Colts believe they've been alienated by the franchise. In turn, when Indianapolis tried to organize an alumni day in 1988, none of the players showed up. No one interviewed for this story said he's planning to be in Miami for the Super Bowl.
Many have adopted the Ravens as their new team, and they're quick to note the Ravens reached the Super Bowl - and won it - before Indianapolis. That, some of the old Colts said, represented closure. In Baltimore, their spirit is alive, especially at the Sports Legends at Camden Yards Museum, where an entire wing is devoted to Unitas.
"It's like going to Bethlehem and seeing the manger," said John Ziemann, the museum's deputy director and the former leader of the Baltimore Colts' marching band.
Many old Colts still live in Baltimore, where they're active in the community. Just like the old days. Anywhere from 10 to 30 will attend the monthly meetings, where the purpose - aside from laughs and beers - is to assist retired players down on their luck.
After all these years, they're still true blue - Baltimore blue.
Originally published on January 29, 2007
LINK
