Bill Gattus stands outside the Patterson Bowling Center yesterday and declares his sentiments concerning this weekend’s encounter between the Baltimore Ravens and some team from Indianapolis. No one will need translation. The Patterson Bowling Center is located on Eastern Avenue, near Patterson Park. But, if you listen carefully, you could hear Gattus’ voice all the way over in Pigtown.

This is the way nature intended it. For roughly a quarter century, Gattus’ voice and his high spirits made him a minor folk hero around here. He wore a Baltimore Colts helmet down on the football sidelines. He and his pals carried a Colts banner, and they all marched together around Memorial Stadium every Sunday leading cheers. This is putting it mildly. It sounded as if they were conducting the heavens.

“Great days, great days,” Gattus says. He’s ready for Saturday. He’s still got tons of memorabilia from those distant days. And it’s 23 years since the Colts left, but the bar Gattus used to own on Northpoint Road is still there, and it still has the big Colts horseshoe out front.

The difference is: On Saturday, he’ll be rooting against the Colts. And it will feel slightly sacrilegious. But such, in the post-Irsay era, is life.

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“The Colts are still in my heart and in my feelings,” Gattus, 79, was saying now. “But not these Colts. Listen, I carried that banner every Sunday till the day they left, and then they went and broke my heart. So now — well, I’m glad the game’s here so we can beat them. Nobody else should beat them but us if we’re gonna win this whole thing.”

This isn’t just an old ad-hoc cheerleader talking. Those free spirits of yesteryear, who came in off the streets and bounced around the ballpark rousing the crowds, were part of the legendary supporting cast that helped define a couple of football generations around here. Gattus led cheers with guys such as Eugene “Reds” Hubbe, Buddy Janowicz, Bill Pierzynski, Sonny Hutchin. But there were others across the years, like Willie the Rooter, Loudy Loudenslager and Len “Big Wheel” Burrier. On Sundays, they were the smile on a whole town’s face.

What was it like back then? At the Gattus Bar, the old Colts would drop in just to have a drink and hang out with the faithful. Artie Donovan could be found drinking a beer or two, and so would Bert Rechichar and Lou Michaels. John Unitas would drop in, though he never drank. It was an era when such things happened routinely, and it created deep emotional bonds.

Every Sunday morning, people would gather at the Gattus Bar. This was going on at taverns all over the Baltimore area. They had chartered buses to take everybody to the ballpark. Gattus played the saxophone, and everybody on the bus sang, “Let’s go you Baltimore Colts ...” It sounded like a national anthem.

Then Gattus would meet his pals down on the field, and they’d lead sideline cheers all afternoon. Afterward, everybody’s back on the bus to the Gattus Bar. They’d stay all night. Gattus would climb onto the bar, playing the Colts’ song on his sax, and everybody sang along.

Everybody thought it would never end, any more than a religion ends, or a birthright. Those folks who gather before Ravens games on Sunday, with their tailgate parties? They’re the spiritual children of the guys like Gattus. That’s where it all started.

“Oh, it’s gonna feel funny rooting against the Colts,” Gattus was saying now. “But I can’t help it, you know?”

We know. We know.

Michael Olesker is an award-winning newspaper columnist, author of three books and former commentator on local radio and television. He can be reached at olesker@baltimoreexaminer.com.