First Impressions

It is only fitting that the festivities for the sorriest Super Bowl matchup in history should start with an apology.

Brian Billick, I apologize.

Everything you said Monday during your opening scolding of the media was right.

Some said you were as scary as a guy waving a broken bottle in a deadly street fight outside an Atlanta nightclub, but not me.

You’re the coach of the mighty Baltimore Ravens, who won the AFC championship, which makes you a genius.

You’ll spend the next week on a podium in front of hundreds of pens and cameras, which makes you a philosopher.

You coach a player who was involved in an unsolved double murder, which, in today’s sports world, makes both of you victims.

So, I apologize for ever raising the issue of linebacker Ray Lewis’ troubles.

You said, “As much as some of you want to retry the thing, it’s not appropriate and you are not qualified.”

You said, “Those that wish to embellish it, sensationalize it, I don’t like it. It’s unprofessional.”

You said, “Frankly, I’m disturbed at the focus that has come on this. I equate it to an ambulance-chasing role.”

Well, OK, just one small point here, Brian.

We’re not ambulance chasers.

We’re hearse chasers.

Last year at the Super Bowl in Atlanta, Lewis was involved in an incident that left two people dead. Not injured, but dead.

We’re also limousine chasers.

The deaths occurred outside a nightclub in a street fight that ended when Lewis and his friends sped away in a limousine.

Sometimes we’re actually even truth chasers. But that’s a futile endeavor here. Lewis lied to police afterward, and hasn’t totally come clean since.

Two men dead. Witnesses who told police Lewis was involved in the fight. But no convictions.

Lewis eventually pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor charge of obstructing justice, was fined $250,000 by the league, and here we are.

The best player in this country’s biggest game admittedly did not cooperate with police in a double murder investigation that never turned up the killer.

And today, almost exactly a year later, at the same event, he has the hardship of enduring a media day session that will be large and loud and relentless.

Ray, why didn’t you cooperate with police that night?

Ray, did you punch one of the victims, as some witnesses told police?

Ray, do you feel that you helped somebody in your crew get away with you-know-what?

But not me. I’m not asking those questions. I’m listening to you, Coach Billick.

You know what’s best for this pesky country of people who idealistically crave a sense of justice.

You know what’s best for those slain men’s families, the ones who still are pathetically searching for answers.

You’re a coach in the Super Bowl. You don’t give interviews, you give gospel.

Ray Lewis is a player in the Super Bowl. No matter what he has done, he has been redeemed.

You said, “I’ve seen some stories lately . . . that I don’t think is in the best interest of the family, the league, or Ray Lewis. It’s also not in your best interest. You don’t come across real well.”

I know you were talking about the media in that last sentence, Coach Billick, and you are right.

We sound whiny. We moralize. We rationalize. We throw stones.

I know that in this situation, we need to think about the athlete.

It is Ray Lewis who is on stage this week, not, um, what are their names? Yeah, Richard Lollar and Jacinth Baker. The dead guys.

It is Ray Lewis who was wronged by being forced to sit in jail for 15 days on a murder rap. Sure, he asked for that seat by not telling the truth, but what do you expect from a young NFL star?

He didn’t trust the cops. He trusted his friends. A man makes that much money and has so many people tugging on him, who could blame him?

“I feel like what I’m most guilty of is being successful,” he told ESPN The Magazine, which thoughtfully put this role model on the cover in a first-person story that should be distributed to school libraries everywhere.

He’s right, Coach Billick.

He’s young, and rich, and famous--OK, so he wears a helmet and 99% of this country wouldn’t recognize him but he’s still famous--and everybody wants a piece of him.

Even those two dead guys have somehow held onto a piece of him.

How rude of them.

Too bad they aren’t around to also apologize.

I talked about this with Tony Siragusa, a Raven defensive tackle. Here’s what he said about Ray Lewis.

“To bounce back from something like that, it’s amazing,” he said. “I don’t think many guys could do that. I trust Ray Lewis with my life.”

After listening to you, Coach Billick, I agree with him.

Not only should we not question Ray Lewis, we should honor him.

The Super Bowl has washed away his past. The Super Bowl has cleansed him of all uncertainties.

You’re right, Coach Billick.

It’s this country’s skewed sense of right and wrong--not some linebacker--who should be taken to task here.

It’s our unrealistic demand of full accountability for human life even beyond legal proceedings--not some unsolved murder--that should be questioned.

The media--not Ray Lewis--look bad here.

Coach Billick you’re right, and I am sorry.

You have no idea how sorry.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at his e-mail address: bill.plaschke@latimes.com.