Would Chennai Ever Call Its Team "The Crows"?

Would Chennai Ever Call Its Team "The Crows"?

Football season is here in the US, and while watching football recently, something completely unrelated to football got me thinking.

The Baltimore Ravens.

Think about that name for a minute.

A Raven.

A black bird.

Baltimore didn't try to make it glamorous by calling themselves the Baltimore Kings, Warriors, Emperors or Super Something.

They proudly called themselves the Ravens.

And then they built an entire identity around it.

The name comes from Edgar Allan Poe's famous poem The Raven. Poe had strong connections to Baltimore, and when the franchise needed a name, Ravens won the public vote.

But what fascinates me even more is what they did with that bird.

Black and purple became powerful colors. The raven became intelligent, aggressive and mysterious. Their mascots were even brilliantly named Edgar, Allan and Poe.

And today nobody looks at a Ravens player wearing black and thinks his skin color has anything to do with the bird on his helmet.

Black players. White players. Brown players.

They are all Ravens.

The bird represents the TEAM—not the complexion of the men playing for it.

That got this Chennai boy thinking.

Could we ever have called Chennai's IPL team the Chennai Crows?

Come on.

You know the answer.

There would have been a riot before the first ball was bowled!

And that is precisely why I find this interesting.

I grew up in Chennai. We are a city full of wonderfully brown and dark-skinned people.

And we are also a city full of crows!

They are everywhere.

More importantly, the crow is actually a remarkable bird—intelligent, adaptable, social, resourceful and incredibly good at surviving.

Those aren't bad qualities for a cricket team!

So imagine this:

CHENNAI CROWS.

Initially I thought—black jerseys!

Then the Chennai boy in me immediately said:

Are you crazy? Have you ever been to Chennai in Summer? 

Nobody wants to stand at Chepauk in 100-degree heat wearing an all-black jersey.

So forget the black jersey.

Keep the yellow!

Yellow for Chennai sunshine.

Then run a couple of sweeping black stripes across the yellow jersey. Shape those stripes cleverly so they form the outline of a crow.

No complicated logo required.

A couple of black strokes.

One little dot for the eye.

That's it.

The Chennai Crow.

Actually, the more I think about it, the cooler it sounds.

Forty thousand people at Chepauk wearing sunshine yellow with those black crow stripes.

And when the opposition loses a wicket?

CAW! CAW! CAW!

Tell me that wouldn't be intimidating!

But culturally, I am not sure we could have sold it.

Somewhere along the way, particularly in India, we have attached too much meaning to fairness, darkness, beauty and status.

Calling someone "black" or comparing someone to a crow can become an insult.

And that is where the Baltimore Ravens comparison becomes interesting to me.

Baltimore didn't run away from the darkness of the bird.

They marketed it.

They made it powerful.

They made it intelligent.

They made it cool.

People proudly pay good money to walk around wearing a raven on their chest.

Nobody is embarrassed to say:

"I am a Raven."

Now look at many of our IPL names.

Chennai Super Kings.

Punjab Kings.Rajasthan Royals.

Kolkata Knight Riders.

Gujarat Titans.

Lucknow Super Giants.

Royal Challengers.

Everybody wants to be a King, Royal, Knight, Titan, Giant or something SUPER! 😂

Nothing wrong with that. I am a Chennai guy and I love CSK.

But compare that with American sports.

Baltimore Ravens.

Philadelphia Eagles.

Seattle Seahawks.

Arizona Cardinals.

Atlanta Falcons.

And then Bears, Rams, Colts, Broncos, Dolphins, Jaguars and Panthers.

They take an animal, a bird or something connected to a place and ask:

What story can we build around it?

That difference fascinates me.

Baltimore took a black bird and gave it dignity.

And maybe that is where sports branding can teach us something much bigger than sports.

Maybe the problem was never the color.

Maybe the problem was the meaning we attached to the color.

A crow doesn't know it is "too black."

A raven doesn't know it is supposed to be beautiful or ugly.

Those judgments belong to us.

Maybe one day an Indian franchise should take something completely ordinary, local and even slightly unfashionable—and make us proud of it.

Forget another King.

Forget another Royal.

Give me the Chennai Crows.

Sunshine-yellow jersey.

Two sweeping black stripes.

One little dot for the eye.

Intelligence. Adaptability. Teamwork. Survival.

Very Chennai, if you ask me.

And then go win the IPL.

Trust me.

The same people who laughed at the name would be standing in line to buy that yellow-and-black jersey.

Because sometimes you don't need to change the color.

You need to change what the color means.

And perhaps that lesson goes far beyond cricket and football.

PS: Whoever eventually starts the Chennai Crows, remember where you got the jersey design. I want royalties. 

Faith, Football & Food

A friend recently posted this question on LinkedIn:

“WANTED: Hobbies for couples that suddenly have LOTS of free nights and weekends?”

My reply was very simple:

“I have three letters for you: NFL.”

I was partly joking. But after I posted it, I realized there was probably more truth in those three letters than I intended.

Because in our family, NFL football has never been just about football.

A few years ago, right before the start of the season, one of my older daughter’s friends made a comment that has stayed with me:

“Thank God the NFL is starting. You are such a nice and happy person during football season.”

We laughed, but I knew exactly what she meant. Her friend was spot on! We are very happy and nice people when NFL starts. 

There is something different about our family when football season arrives.

Even when my daughters were away at college, the NFL kept us connected. They would call to talk about games, picks, players and predictions. There was plenty of trash talk, especially when someone's confident prediction went completely wrong.

Distance didn't seem quite as far when there was a game to talk about.

And during football season, our family calendar becomes pretty simple.

Monday night? Football.
Thursday night? Football.
Sunday? Make sure you go to the early morning church service so you're back home by 10:00 AM for kickoff!

And then there are those international games that start around 6:00 AM. Those are the weeks when Saturday evening church service suddenly becomes a very attractive option.

I know how that sounds, but I also know myself pretty well.

I'm the kind of guy who would rather be sitting at the game feeling guilty about not being in church than sitting in church wondering what the score is.

Lord, forgive me.

At least I'm being honest!

And then there are those special Sundays when we actually get to go to the stadium.

What a joy ride that is.

Honestly, the game itself is only part of the experience.

It starts with the road trip together. Then comes the parking lot, the pregame routines, walking toward the stadium with thousands of other fans, finding our seats, the music, the energy, and then standing for the National Anthem with some 71,000 people around you.

There is something about that moment.

Then comes kickoff, the noise, the cheering, the high-fives with complete strangers and, of course, all the food that somehow tastes better on game day.

And after the game?

Those bacon-wrapped street dogs waiting outside the stadium!

Then comes the ride back home—sometimes celebrating, sometimes analyzing what went wrong, sometimes complaining about a call that we're absolutely convinced cost us the game.

Win or lose, the conversation continues all the way home.

You just can't put a dollar amount on days like that.

And we've created another little tradition that I have come to love.

Every year, a few friends and family members pick one Rams away game, pack our bags and travel to another city together to watch our Rams play.

Last year, it was Seattle.

This year, it's Vegas.

Yes, technically we're traveling to watch a football game.

But that's really just the excuse.

It's the flight or road trip. The meals. The jokes. The trash talk. Exploring another city. Wearing Rams gear in enemy territory. And spending a weekend with people you care about.

It all adds up to family time.

And those are the memories that stay with you long after you've forgotten the final score.

My wife has never been the biggest football fan in the family. For years, she has patiently listened to conversations about quarterbacks, trades, injuries, terrible referee calls and, of course, my beloved Rams.

But I think we are slowly winning her over.

Last week, one of my daughters mentioned to her that Dad might be going to Kansas City next month.

My wife's immediate response was:

“Is he going to watch the Chiefs play?”

The girls and I loved it.

She knew!

It was such a small thing, but somehow it made all of us happy. After all these years, maybe Mom is finally becoming one of us.

And that little moment reminded me that this really isn't about football.

Years from now, I probably won't remember the scores of most of these games. I won't remember every pick we made, every player we argued about, or every terrible referee's call.

But I will remember my daughters calling me from college to talk football.

I will remember the trash talk.

I will remember everyone trying to get home in time for kickoff.

I will remember those road trips to the stadium.

I will remember standing for the National Anthem surrounded by 71,000 people.

I will remember Seattle.

I will remember Vegas.

I will remember those bacon-wrapped street dogs after the game.

And most of all, I will remember who was sitting beside me through all of it.

Because football is simply one of the reasons we gather.

And gathering is what matters.

So perhaps my three-letter LinkedIn answer—NFL—wasn't quite complete.

If you asked me what really brings our family together, I would give you three words instead:

Faith. Football. Food.

Faith keeps us grounded.
Football keeps us talking.
Food keeps us around the same table.

And somewhere between those three things, we keep making memories.

So, to my friend looking for hobbies to fill all those suddenly free nights and weekends, I stand by my original recommendation:

NFL.

Just be careful.

It starts as a hobby.

Then your daughters start calling you from college to talk about picks.

Your Sundays start being planned around kickoff.

Your church service selection mysteriously begins depending on the NFL schedule.

You start planning family trips around Rams away games.

And then, one day, your wife—who was never really a football fan—asks whether you're flying to Kansas City to watch the Chiefs.

That's when you know.

You've got the whole family.

And perhaps that's why those three letters mean so much more to me than just a game.

NFL.

Or, in our house:

Faith. Football. Food.

Thank God, the NFL is back.