Baltimore, MD – August 5, 2025
There’s something I used to tell every young player who walked into this building:
“Wearing a Ravens jersey isn’t ink on fabric — it’s sweat, blood, and legacy.”
And today, as I watch this 2025 defense take shape, I can’t help but feel the weight of something brewing. Something quiet. Something fierce. And something still missing.
Let’s not sugarcoat it — this team is loaded with talent. But one truth remains: we’re still looking for that monster off the edge. That guy who ruins quarterbacks’ nights before the ball is even snapped. The next Suggs. The next Elvis. The next storm in purple and black.
And yet, I see glimpses. Not in names. But in Odafe Oweh’s eyes.
He’s no longer the raw kid from 2021. This version of Oweh? He trains like he’s trying to punish his past. Quiet. Relentless. Obsessed. Every rep carries fire. Every drill feels like a battle within.
And I saw it — in his voice, after practice.
“I’m not looking back anymore, Ray,” he told me. “All I see is that ring. And I know we can get there if I hold up my end.”
Then there’s David Ojabo, a fighter through and through. Still climbing out of injury. Still swinging. Still believing. And behind them? A rookie no one’s talking about — Mike Green. I saw a rep on Day 3 that nearly made me curse. The burst. The lean. The rage.
Is it enough? Maybe not yet. But let me be clear:
Ravens greatness isn’t born from perfection. It’s forged from defiance.
Maybe the front office calls up a familiar face. A Za’Darius. A Judon. I wouldn’t argue. You win rings with depth. But don’t sleep on these kids. Because every great Ravens defense I’ve ever known — didn’t start with headlines.
It started with hunger. With pain. With boys who became men inside those walls.
Oweh. Ojabo. Green. They may not have the résumé yet. But I see it — the only thing that matters.
A heart that doesn’t break. And a fire that doesn’t dim.
And with that…
who’s to say Super Bowl LX doesn’t belong to Baltimore?
