First things first: I’m a Ravens fan and have been since my first move to the Baltimore area in 1999.
Second, I find the team interesting for reasons linked to religion news. We are not just talking about the life and times of “God’s linebacker,” Hall of Famer Ray Lewis.
As long as I have followed this team, there have been fascinating Ravens storylines linked to religion, culture and even politics. When your team’s CENTER can make faith-based headlines — Matt Birk skipped the White House visit with the Super Bowl champs because of Barack Obama’s abortion stance — you know things are getting interesting.
Then there is head coach John “mighty men” Harbaugh, a Roman Catholic whose outspoken style would be right at home in many African-American pulpits.
Two years ago, Harbaugh and Raven executives made the stunning decision to build their team around a very unconventional quarterback — Lamar “not bad for a running back” Jackson. Then they started talking about his unique, very cool blend of humility and swagger, his commitment to teammates and to helping the city of Baltimore. The team embraced his “Big Truss” slogan, with his emphasis on having trust and faith in teammates and, well, other things.
This brings me to a long, long Sports Illustrated cover story about Jackson and the future of the quarterback position in professional football. The headline: “Lamar Jackson: Quarterback, Redefined.”
It’s a great feature if you want to know about Jackson, the football player. No complaints, there. However, SI finally spotted the strong religion “ghost” in this story and devoted all of two paragraphs to it — several thousand words into the text. Hold that thought and, as you read the piece, note the many references to the number “8” that Jackson wears on his back.
Here’s a solid chunk of the text focusing on Jackson and his impact on those around him.
… Coach John Harbaugh had shown up at a press conference wearing a hoodie from Jackson’s Era 8 apparel line, emblazoned — like many of their items — with an African wild dog. A donut chain sold pastries printed with the “Big Truss” team motto based on a Jackson catchphrase, loosely defined as mutual trust (and since changed to “Big Truzz,” to avoid a trademark dispute). And on the eve of the No. 1 seed’s opening playoff game, Jackson and two teammates surprised the neighborhood of West Baltimore when they arrived at Miss Carter’s Kitchen, picking up a to-go order of seafood pasta, mac-and-cheese, collard greens and the restaurant’s famous banana pudding.
Later on, there is a follow-up on that West Baltimore visit that captures this young man’s street crew:
Cia Carter, the owner of Miss Carter’s Kitchen, says she saw a 15% increase in business after she posted the QB’s visit in January. The fact that he and his teammates dropped by a Black-owned restaurant in West Baltimore, she says, represents the unique connection the majority-Black city has to its franchise QB.
“He comes from the same place that most of the kids in Baltimore City come from,” Carter says. “We can relate to him, we can feel him, we understand him and he understands us. How he talks, how he dresses, how he carries himself, how he plays — we connect with him.”
Things get interesting when, way into the feature, the SI team dedicates some space to information about Jackson’s past and his family values.
This passage opens this crucial part of the article. Once again, look for that number “8” in this drama:
McNair Park in Pompano Beach, Fla., is located off NW 9 Ct, a street sign that also bears the name LAMAR JACKSON CT.
It’s hard not to tell that this is where Jackson grew up playing. Two of his Ravens jerseys are hanging in the lobby of the park’s rec center: A purple number 1, representing his first-round draft status, and a black number 8. The park is the home field of Jackson’s old youth club, the Pompano Cowboys, who each season award a Lamar Jackson Trophy to the best player in every age group.
This is where Jackson committed to playing quarterback, and where a network of young athletes in South Florida resolved to do the same.
When Jackson was eight, one of his youth coaches sent him to work with Van Warren, who leads the Cowboys’ 12-year-old team but had also made a habit of working with young QBs. “I’m not an expert by any stretch,” Warren admits, but he had thrown himself into this task out of frustration over seeing many of his Black youth players be told they wouldn’t make it as quarterbacks at the next level. He vowed to make their passing mechanics so impeccable that no coach could ever use that as a reason to deny them a shot.
Obviously, Jackson became a student of the game and then a star.
It was clear that Jackson was heading somewhere, after his head-spinning gridiron adventures in high school. But would major schools allow him to remain at quarterback, rather than moving to wide receiver or running back? That’s what is supposed to happen with gifted, fast black men, after all.
The story continued and Jackson marked his move to the next level with a very symbolic gesture — changing the number on his jersey.
Another key player in the story is Felicia Jones — Jackson’s mother and inspiration for much of what he has done in life.
Read this carefully:
When Jackson graduated from Boynton Beach High School, with a scholarship to Louisville, Warren assumed their Sunday afternoon tradition of the last decade was over. “No, we’re not done,” he recalls Jones telling him. “If we could do it for him, this shows we can do it for others.” So, they continued, together running a Sunday football clinic even after Jackson left for college, free of charge and open to any player willing to put in the same kind of work that Jackson did. Their goal is to help kids, some from economically disadvantaged parts of Broward County, earn a college scholarship.
They call their program “Super 8,” teaching both football skills and eight core values: God, prayer, faith, family, education, sacrifice, character and discipline. When Jackson changed from number 7 to 8 when he arrived at Louisville (“A new era,” Jones told Warren at the time, citing the Bible’s teaching that the eighth day of creation represents the new beginning) they had to add one more value. Fitting to Jackson’s path, the eighth one was faith.
Perhaps this is a significant fact in the Jackson story? The number on his back, drawn from the Bible and a mother’s strong faith?
In fact, who — precisely — is the “they” in a key phrase in that passage. I’m talking about: “They call their program ‘Super 8’.” Is “they” Warren, Jones and Jackson, himself? It certainly sounds like that would be the case.
Might this faith factor have something to do with Jackson’s bond with Harbaugh and their trust in each other as men and leaders?
Maybe this theme in Jackson’s family history — backed with his many quiet references to God working in his life — deserved more than a paragraph or two buried deep in this long story? What role does Christian faith play in his life these days? There are some factual questions that could be asked.
We are, after all, talking about that gold number on this quarterback’s jersey. Apparently, he is wearing that number for a reason.
Just saying.