Although the boat would be somewhere in the Atlantic when the ball was snapped Sunday, I still packed my gear, determined to figure out a way to tune in, despite the lack of an international signal.
Silly me. I should have realized the hard core had taken care of the problem before we had even passed Fort McHenry. I heard a fellow passenger say to another "I'll see you in the Bolaro tomorrow." It only took a moment to learn this ringleader had already negotiated for the satellite signal to be repositioned to accommodate the boatload of Raven fans on Sunday at sea.
So it was with pride and a sense of camaraderie that I decked out in full Flacco before hitting the buffet Sunday morning. I hadn't made it any further than the omelette station when a realization hit me: there were Steeler fans aboard. In fact, there were more of them than there were of us.
Who would have thought? I know they're as ubiquitous as Red Sox Nation, but on a boat from Baltimore, for heavens sakes?
Yes, and making no apologies. There were as many Hines and Polarmos as Flaccos and Heaps. And we had to share a lounge transformed into a sports bar for the occasion.
"Don't worry," said the ringleader I met earlier -- now decked out in a vintage Unitas jersey. "We can take these guys."
I can't really do justice to the mayhem that ensued for those few hours. The ship was rocking and rolling even before the game, but it was really tossing during the action. Even the few stray Redskin and Giants fans (also in uniform) got into the act.
Despite the threats to make the losers swim home, everyone really got along great. An informal and bipartisan tailgate broke out with food smuggled from the buffet and everyone partook (no need for designated drivers, either.)
It might have been more exhilarating to be in Heinz Field for the thrilling victory, but sharing a floating sports bar with a great bunch of homies and some good sports from the north was something this Ravens fan won't forget.
Go Ravens! Beat Denver!
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