The Story

A seed was planted in the year 96’.  Fanatic football dreams derived from an authentic passion for city representation. That city, Baltimore. Training camps were a never missed event. Arrival time, always early and never ever late.  On no occasion, could we go without watching our new team hit the practice field at McDaniel college proudly, as bystanders cheered with excitement over a newfound love for some, as for others, the return of an old engagement.  At the age of 12, the electric impulse almost seemed surreal, but it was clearly no dream.  It was during this time that I learned the importance and meaning behind team pride and representation.  My parents made sure of that.  They took gratification in the little things which adhered to a lifetime commitment of beautiful memories for my sister and me.  The energy was beyond explanation, the feeling was contagious and thick.  Being an athlete myself, it was magnetic and easy to be a part of.  At times, I envisioned myself suited on the field and ready to go toe to toe. The charge was limitless and free of judgement. A mental getaway for all.  All weekly worries; diminished.  Any stressors; put on pause.  Any differences; temporary forwarded into a space of nonexistence.  One common goal, one common objective, one factor combined of three words: The Baltimore Ravens. Summers had officially changed as we knew them, the crisp and cool fall air hit differently too. The refreshing remnants of football season could be felt in every cool breeze.  Sundays no longer concluded the week but, they began a six day stretch of the next games anticipation and left-over energy. The NFL had officially brought football back to Baltimore. An energetic outlet; Baltimore was back on the map and reunited with the Johnny Unitas charisma of football. Bottoms; spiked with swagger. Shoulders; padded with pride and perseverance. Heads; helmeted with hunger and mutual visions of willpower and team sacrifice. 

In 2012, while watching WJZ channel 13 news, on a fan favorited Purple Friday, a vision generated from within. Painted Purple.  City Hall; flooded by purple lights.  M&T Bank Stadium; flushed with accented purple lights.  Ravens fans on the television, camouflaged in purple in a next level kind of way. I felt like I was indisputably looking at a city that was Painted Purple.  All of my devoted years of being a Baltimore Ravens believer came in at lightening speed with a thundering concept. Bolted in joy, I was confident that the Ravens community would partake in the creative interpretation forthcoming. The feelings of dignity surrounding the Ravens color purple, were matchless, including my own. It was evident that any Ravens paraphernalia was worn with importance and significance. I always knew that being a true Ravens fan meant being a part of a domineering community. This vision and dream remained in my heart for almost a decade. At times it seemed a bit farfetched and almost too hard to obtain but their remained an underlying conviction that would not permit me to let it go. Decades of commitment from both childhood and adulthood, would not allow a severance of my dream. The responsiveness of my shared vision with immediate family encouraged me to never give up. The receptiveness of my husband ignited and propelled the start of the brand and what I fantasized as a ‘local sports movement’. And the lack of belief from those who undermined my potential fueled my ambition to a measure of fiery inspiration.  Baltimore, stand by. Never let go of the pride that resides within. When something leaves and then it returns, the homecoming in any event means so much more. Some bonds can never be broken.