“Ravens’ Rollercoaster: The Thrill and Pain of Every Game Day!”

“Pressure is a privilege.” —Tennis legend Billie Jean King
“Pressure creates diamonds.” —General George S. Patton Jr.
“Pressure is awful.” —Me, at this moment

I’m perched on my sofa feeling nervous, heated, and a bit queasy.

Is it a bout of COVID? A severe case of the flu? No, I’m merely watching my cherished Ravens in the playoffs.

Here’s the wild aspect of the NFL playoffs: Every year, your only desire is for your team to reach that stage and then, if the sports deities allow it, to march on and claim the Super Bowl. Yet never at any point, while you wish and hope and pray, do you think to yourself, “And if they DO get into the playoffs, I will be a complete disaster and in a state of utter and total despair the entire time.”

Consider Saturday’s match against Pittsburgh. It began quite comfortably. As the Ravens led 21-0 at halftime, I genuinely felt some tension dissipate from my body. We’ve got this.

Then at some juncture in the third quarter, Pittsburgh QB Russell Wilson found his rhythm. He wasn’t just making short, safe throws down the field. He was gaining substantial yards on beautiful, accurate passes that landed perfectly in the hands of the Steelers’ receivers. The offense had discovered a groove.

Out of nowhere, it was 21-7. Then the Ravens retaliated instantly with a Derrick Henry 44-yard dash, and I shouted, “IN YOUR FACE!” at the television.

Then Pittsburgh scored yet again—and quickly. I had hardly blinked, and it was 28-14.

Dear reader, I wish I could say that I was composed and realistic at that moment. We were ahead by 14 points at the start of the fourth quarter. We had shown that we could score against their defense. We had two of the finest players in history—Lamar Jackson and Derrick Henry—dressed in purple and black.

However, in actuality, my thoughts were: Oh my God, if we blow this game after being ahead 21-zip at halftime, it will be the most heartbreaking, disheartening, demoralizing sports defeat since the notorious Billy Cundiff game versus the Patriots (IYKYK).

It wasn’t until the clock displayed all zeroes that I was able to relax my shoulders (and various other parts of my body) and breathe deeply.

But was I elated? Overjoyed? High-fiving random people on the street? No. I was upset that we had allowed them back into the game, giving them a glimmer of hope. The Steelers had outscored us 14-7 in the second half. Did it hint at a vulnerability in our secondary? A deficiency in our killer instinct? Were we heading in the wrong direction?

If you had informed me prior to the match that we would triumph 28-14, I would have been overjoyed. Yet, the pessimist in me feared. (I was also concerned about Lamar’s fragile ribs. Love you as a runner, my dude, but please play safely.)

The post-season anxiety is ever-present, but it’s much more intense when your team has the odds in their favor. Every time I hear some analyst predicting the Ravens as Super Bowl winners (it’s an attractive choice currently), I yell, “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” at my screen.

It’s not only that the Ravens are skillful and have something to demonstrate; it’s the Lamar factor.

While speaking to my friend Travis, I confessed that I wanted the Ravens to succeed for the team, for Baltimore, for Harbaugh. But mostly, I wished for them to win for Lamar.

The notion that the only way to solidify your legacy is through winning a championship is one of the most ludicrous ideas in sports—and yet it persists.

In spite of the two (soon to be three) MVPs (don’t mess this up, AP sports writers), the all-time quarterback rushing record, and the extraordinary statistics year after year, Lamar still seemingly has something to prove. The repeated sentiment is that he can’t clinch the big one. (Never mind the fact that we were one Zay Flowers goal line fumble away from being just three points down late in the third quarter of the previous year’s AFC championship game against the Chiefs.)

I want to relieve Lamar of that burden. I long for Lamar to silence the naysayers, the skeptics, the adversaries. Yes, I desire this for Lamar even more than for myself.

Nevertheless, to quote Stanley Tucci in The Devil Wears Prada, I will prepare myself and watch Sunday’s confrontation against the Bills. Did I wish for Denver? Yes, absolutely, I did. (Especially since everyone will view this as some sort of judgment on Lamar vs. Josh Allen, even though Lamar already overcame Allen earlier this year and his statistics are evidently better in nearly every category. Aaargh.)

“To be the best, you have to defeat the best” —Annoying individuals
“I prefer a weak challenger, thanks” —Me