5 Stages of Grief For Ravens Fans

The Ravens losing the AFC Championship Game has triggered widespread sadness throughout Charm City. Here at Russell Street Report, we want to guide you through the 5 stages of Ravens grief to help you prepare for free agency, the NFL Draft and all the excitement of a Ravens offseason. But to move you along from the despair of Sunday’s heartbreaking loss and back to your happy place, let’s identify the 5 stages – together. This is paramount to working through the grief.

Where in these stages does your grief reside?

Denial

Immediately after the loss, while still in your seat at The Bank, you stare at the field yet see nothing but a green blur where the stadium’s grass once was. If at home, you are frozen in time, looking like a zombie extra on the set of The Walking Dead. The world seems surreal. Things are happening around you, yet it feels somewhat out of body. It’s as if you are looking down on a catastrophic scene where pain and agony exist. But you are not part of it, not really. You cling to the hope that it’s all just a bad movie that you can fast forward through. Maybe even delete.

You hear voices around you. Something like, “Honey, it will be alright. The Ravens had a good season. There’s always next year.”

You pretend you didn’t hear her, because if you allow it to interact with your current form of consciousness, your head might explode and you might end up in the clink.

Which takes us to…

Anger

It’s three days later. The numbness wears off. Your beard has grown. You need a shower. Your breath stinks, even to you. You’ve been staring into nowhere for over 72 hours.

You hear voices around you. “Honey, you should really brush your teeth.”

Anger sets in. It’s a very natural emotion after your team loses the AFC Championship Game. It boils within you. For a while the anger just simmered. Now, the proverbial pot is bubbling. This place is about to blow!

You snap out of the trance. You scream at your dog Tucker to change his f-ing name and for God’s sake take off the f-ing dog Ravens jersey. “I HATE PURPLE!”

You grab every piece of Ravens swag you have and throw it into a pile. You’re about to have a Ravens barbeque.

That Christmas tree your wife redecorated for you, adorned in Ravens bling and purple lights, you grab it by the trunk, walk it outside and jam all 8 feet of it into a 3 foot, 36 gallon trash can. You wipe your hands together when done, as if you’ve accomplished something.

After she finishes screaming at you like she’s Sam Kinison, you suddenly notice that she’s there.

“When did you get here?”

Her look could stop an assassin in his tracks. The only response you’ve got is, “What?”

Bargaining

Bargaining is when we start to make deals with ourselves, or perhaps with God, in order to manage the pain. We want to believe that if we never wear that old Testaverde jersey again and instead wear that old Ravens ball cap that your wife told you to get rid of because it looked like something Goodwill would reject, the Ravens fortunes may have been different.

We make deals with our sub-conscience, to make future outcomes more pleasurable.

“I swear that if the Ravens make it back to the AFC Championship Game, I won’t watch it at Cathy & Joe’s! Nor will I drink that 12-pack of IPA’s or do a shot after every touchdown.”

That vow should change things!

It’s also common to repeat the details of what happened during the game. We find comfort in “what if” questions and convince ourselves that John Harbaugh and Todd Monken and Lamar Jackson will all have learned a valuable lesson. Next time, things will be different.

Right?

RIGHT?

Depression

Sadness and longing grip you like a Grainger industrial strength vise. The pain is intensified when the team loses assistant coaches, and with each one, the vise’s pressure becomes more and more unbearable. You consider all the unrestricted free agents the Ravens could lose. The pure anguish comes in waves, and it can be as agonizing as watching the Ravens call another lame jet sweep for 2 yards; as another Taylor Swift sighting; as another school-girl-like Tony Romo soliloquy during which he fawns all over Patrick Mahomes.

In a dastardly way, you encourage Swifties to consider Jonestown for their next vacation destination. You highly recommend the KoolAid. The meaning of life can change in this depression stage. Things are now getting scary. Yet you have the awareness to seek help, to find a sponsor.

Where is Loudermilk?

You find the business card of a divorce attorney on the kitchen table.

But you didn’t put it there.

The shit’s getting real now!

Acceptance

Gradually, you get it together. Your wife sees the progress you’ve made and ditches the attorney’s card. Once again, she’s willing to share her bed with you, but relations aren’t on the table – not yet.

Then one day you awake and remind yourself that there is a tomorrow. That Eric DeCosta can work his magic with limited cap space and field a competitive team. That the AFC North can be won again and after that, anything can happen, right? This is the NFL! And we’ve got Lamar Jackson who can…

Hang on! Don’t go there!

Breathe.

Just breathe.

You accept that you may never ‘get over’ the loss of the AFC Championship at home, but you damn well can learn to live again, while keeping the memories of those great wins during the 2023 season close by.

And then you remember, the Angelos Family just sold the Baltimore Orioles.

Pitchers and catchers report in 13 days.

Hey, you going to Opening Day at The Yard?

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