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Their voices weren’t going to win them any awards. But the echoes of their passionate — if off-key — duets to The Spinners create a beautiful soundtrack to Cindy Ricci’s memories of Wes Henson, better known to Ravens fans as “Captain Dee-Fense.”

Henson died last Sunday at age 74 and was honored by the team in its game against the Los Angeles Rams at M&T Bank Stadium today. Fans were exhorted to cheer loudly for him; that, those who knew him agreed, was a better way to honor him than the traditional moment of silence.

As the two of them carpooled to various fundraising events around the Baltimore community, Ricci and Henson’s sing alongs gave them a chance to have fun and build energy before they slipped into their alternate personas, Captain Dee-Fense and Purple Dame.

Ricci estimated the two of them spent about 200 per year in their Ravens fan personas, attending games, fan events and fundraisers. Neither of them went into it thinking about the fame and notoriety they would amass, but they embraced the platform it gave them to give back.

“You don’t start out wearing beads and wearing make up — this whole persona kind of evolves,” Ricci said. “At first, it’s just your love for football.”

For Ricci, she eventually added a purple wig, a purple boa and so on.

For Henson, it started before the Ravens came to town. Len Burrier, who was a famous Colts fan known as Big Wheel, said he remembers seeing Henson as a normal fan trying to get his section to cheer on the defense. From there, he added a Ravens-themed military-looking uniform, which Ricci said made sense to him since he was former military and because the players wore uniforms. Over the years, he added spikes and chains, aviator glasses and “defense” signs.

And he eventually adopted the name “Captain Dee-fense” after a little girl, recognizing his military bearing and seeing his signs cheering on the defense, asked if he was the captain of the defense.

Their getup, donned every game, began attracting attention, People wanted photos with them. And then they started asking them to attend events.

That’s when the love went from a love of the game to a love of the fans.

“Sometimes you’re getting your hands dirty, and it’s a very fulfilling, empowering experience to be a part of something that is going to benefit other people, whether it was a food drive or it was a 5k or it was O.J. Brigance’s birthday party, it didn’t matter,” Ricci said. “It didn’t matter what the scale was; we were there.”

Through the appearances and encounters on game day, the well-known fans found a community with each other. Ricci, who has retired Purple Dame, estimates there are about a dozen of them who regularly attend events.

Some, like Henson, were just known for walking around the stadium and interacting with fans. Others, like Real Fan Dan, had a role to play on game day.

Real Fan Dan, or Dan Granofsky, leads the stadium in a R-A-V-E-N-S cheer on the big board in the stadium, but he also didn’t go into it for notoriety. He said he was looking for a way to get the fans in his section excited and thought about the Colts tradition Big Wheel used to do when he spelled out the team name. It took years for the Ravens to put it on the big screen, but it was enough for Granofsky if just the sections around him enjoyed it.

“Because we wanted the fans to enjoy what we did, what we enjoyed as kids, and it unites all the people behind the team,” Granofsky said. “You have a blast in the stands. It’s all about love. And Wes was absolutely the same way. What he did, he did for love of people, to spread joy, and we talked about that.”

Their “roles” were very different. While Captain Dee-Fense would support Real Fan Dan by standing next to him and swinging his arms around and “pantomiming” the cheer, he turned down the offer to actually learn the cheer, telling Granofsky: “It’s not me, I’m a people guy.”

But Henson wandered the stadium and always had time for a picture and conversation. Sometimes the conversations were light. Sometimes they were deep. Sometimes they were about the Ravens. Sometimes they were about military service if he was talking with fellow veterans since he served 24 years as a Naval intelligence officer. But the conversations were always positive.

“He engaged people,” Granofsky said. “He would hang out with them. He was good with where he was at. He talked to them, so long as they stayed right, so long as they stayed positive, too.”

“That is something I learned from him and I practice, that I won’t get sucked into a hateful discussion about whatever, a coach or players that aren’t doing so well or really anything.”

For as much of a people-person as he was, Henson was also private. Granofsky said he never got Henson’s number and joked he considered driving to his neighborhood and searching for him. Burrier knew him dating back to Colts and Stallions games but said he really knew him as “Captain D” rather than “Wes.”

But Henson didn’t hesitate to support them in their interests. Granofsky is a deacon and said he did a prayer tour through 15 churches asking for prayers against gun violence. Henson joined him in what is now Granofsky’s best memory with Captain Dee-Fense.

And his privacy didn’t stop him from making a personal difference in fans’ lives. Granofsky said he was there for fans through “troubled times.”

“He had a couple, there, that these guys were in rehab and he got them clean,” Ricci said. “There were kids that were so sick that they couldn’t smile, and somehow they’d see him, and it would light up the room.”

He was, Ricci and Granofsky agreed, the standard for what a fan should be.

The Pro Football Ultimate Fan Association is holding its Hall of Fame induction ceremony in Canton, Ohio on Sunday, and Ricci said they will honor his life there.

The family will hold a private ceremony for the man they knew as Wes Henson, as well as a public one for Captain Dee-fense, Ricci said. But fans already took the initiative to honor him independently, holding a vigil for him outside M&T Bank Stadium on Friday.

“I haven’t seen this kind of outpouring since [Denver’s Barrel Man],” Ricci said. “It’s just so special, and it just makes my heart so happy.”

However, Ricci said Henson wouldn’t care about being honored in vigils or moments of cheering. Rather, he would want his legacy to live on through the fans, and for them to remember him through good sportsmanship and positivity.