Attyla

There is more cyber print going around about Al Davis of late than I can remember in recent history. From the collapse of the once proud franchise to repeated articles and blogs about the rift between Davis and his young head coach, Lane Kiffin. Much of it revolves around a "win now" owner who has seen his beloved franchise fall into disarray that now resembles the traditional redheaded step child, and former brunt of every AFC West joke...the San Diego Chargers. I have read all of the articles I can find, and I have argued both ways on the Davis issues. And then the proverbial light went off inside my head...Al Davis is the victim of a self inflicted wound.

Right now, nothing being done in Oakland follows his pattern of success. An article that called into question hiring a "personnel coach vs a system coach" came close to getting to the heart of the issue. It drew into focus what I believe is the real issue with regards to Al Davis. And it makes me see a reality that I have failed to see for years as I have tried to understand the Raider mystique.

Many writers over the years have commented about Al Davis and his demand of loyalty from everyone who works with him. Evidence of that is apparent both with how he deals with the media, and his quick trigger to hire or fire those he perceives to be at odds with him publicly. Even now, years after Jon Gruden was traded to the Buccaneers, very little has ever come from his mouth that could be perceived as disloyal from a man that has no reason to be loyal. Mike Shanahan has rarely commented on the man that, in the eyes of Shanahan owes him hundreds of thousands of dollars. Shanahan has for the most part just taken it out on his former boss right where it hurts Davis most...on the playing field.

But Shanahan was an outsider when he was hired. So was Gruden. Davis' history shows us that if you want a longer career as a head coach in Oakland, you must fall into two categories. First, you must be able to win, and you must be able to do that quickly. Second, you really should be a homegrown commodity. Madden was a defensive position coach when a much younger Davis hired him to become one of the youngest and most successful coaches of his era. Madden groomed a slightly older version of himself to take over when Madden retired. Flores would immediately take on the challenge, and is one of only three coaches (four if you include Kiffin) who was not fired by the organization. The third homegrown coach of the Raiders was Art Shell. Shell enjoyed a 5+ year run as the head coach of the Raiders, enduring only one losing season during that time. When Shell was brought back, he was woefully out of date with the state of the league and released after one season that stands as the worst single season during the Al Davis era.

So, where is the wound, one might ask? Davis, in recent years, has surrounded himself with a very select group of people, and has allowed the head coaches since Gruden to bring in outsiders to manage the team. Slowly but surely, many of his loyal on the field former Raiders have retired, been released, or have been replaced. The home grown Raiders are all but gone, and the few who are left, are either inadequate to do the job, or have no desire to do the job. Davis, in his own way, has removed the key to his success. By shielding himself from the thing that created his legend, he has forced himself to do things he would rarely have done even 15 years ago. He has pushed his players and former players away, and now he is at a loss to do the thing that he has always done, reward loyalty.

There is the reason he tried to hire Steve Sarkissian and ultimately hired Lane Kiffin. By reaching into his history with USC, he believed he could rekindle the glory that is well within his comfort zone, and is in step with his views of loyalty.

Which brings us to Kiffin and the Raiders. Kiffin has demonstrated his lack of loyalty to the boss on several occasions. This is the one thing that someone who had been brought up in the system would never have done, and has created one of the most dysfunctional working relationships between an owner and head coach in recent history. Kiffin wants to do things his way, and Davis would perceive that also as a loyalty issue. Since Kiffin is not a part of the family, but rather just a hired hand, his trust factor with the boss is extremely limited.

So, there in lies the reason that Kiffin will soon be shown the door. It is also interesting to note that there are only two names repeatedly mentioned as a replacement. Rob Ryan may not be a home grown option, but has demonstrated a loyalty to the team and the man himself. He is the typical Raider type in that he is a bit of the maverick that Davis has always seen in himself, and defensively the two operate much the same. The other option is a former Raider who came home this year to work for Davis, in the person of James Lofton. All reports indicate that both of these men, unlike other members of the staff, were hired directly by Davis. In the case of Ryan, he was resigned to an extension before the Kiffin hire even took place, which is extremely rare in the NFL.

You hear the phrases that shroud the Raider legend. You know the now famous poem the Autumn Wind. You know the history of a once proud franchise who has fallen by the wayside. But, when one digs into the real history of the franchise, two things stand out. Davis demands a level of loyalty rare in the business world, and he will stop at nothing to find it once again.

In the end, the only thing that will satisfy Al Davis is a return to glory. Glory in his eyes means nothing less than a fourth world championship. And, in the eyes of Davis, the price of that championship will be another Raider head coach hire in the not too distant future. And this time, he is trying to go back to the formula that got him the first three.

Sunday night, the stars shone brightly as Yankee stadium bid a fond adeiu to the fans and the players as the house that Ruth build was center stage one last time. In an era of stadiums that hold the names of corporations, it is perhaps fitting that one of the last hold outs of this new tradition remained Yankee Stadium until the final out was made.

Among the notables on hand, the daughter of the Babe was on hand to throw the final first pitch to Jorge Posada as the fans cheered on. The field was lined with former great players, family of those unable to attend, and one very old, and very small catcher who waved to the fans at the stadium for one last time.

Yogi Berra has long been a revered member of the Yankee family. There have been many bigger stars over the years, both figuratively, and physically, but Berra is the unique member of this very exclusive club. He played with DiMaggio and Mantle. He was the one who caught the perfect game in the World Series that Don Larsen threw. And Berra has the unique place in American sports history of having won more professional team sports championships than any other athlete. His ten rings reflect not only the greatness of the teams he played on, but his ability to stay healthy at a position that many maintain shortens careers.

The twenty-six World Championships won by the Yankees are a true testement to how great a sports franchise they truely are. Critics of the team will point to the "buying of those rings" with an almost unlimited budget the team currently has, but that denies the reality that the organization is the greatest in sports history.

From the day George Herman Ruth was purchased by the Yankees from the struggling Boston Red Sox, the writing was on the wall. Unique players happen every generation, but it seems most end up being found by the Yankees. This was and is a team that creates its own mistique, and attempts to duplicate its success have been short lived and in many cases a labor of futility.

So, on this day, the day after the lights went out for the last time, we honor all of the members of this unique club, from Murderers Row, to the Bronx Zoo, and to the much more polished and refined players who chose to win the final game at Yankee stadium. It started with a home run by Babe Ruth who told reporters he would give up a year of life to hit the first homr run in the newly constructed stadium, to the final pitch fo close out the final game...a pitch thrown by the Sand Man.

The outlook wasn't brilliant for the Oakland Raiders that day;
The score stood Twenty-one to 6 with but one quarter left to play;
And then, when Curry died behind the line, and Fargas did the same,
A sickly silence fell upon the patrons of the game.
A straggling few got up to go, in deep despair. The rest
Clung to that hope which "springs eternal in the human breast;"
They thought, If only Davis could but get a whack at that,
We'd put up even money now, with Davis with his checkbook

But Shell procede Kiffin, as did also Norv Turner,
And the former was a no-good and the latter was a fake;
So, upon that stricken multitude grim meloncholy sat,
For there seemed but little chance of Davis making a run..

But Russell let drive a bomb, to the wonderment of all,
And Bush, the much despised, tore the cover off the grass,
And when the dust had lifted and men saw what had occurred,
There were the Raiders in scoring position again.

Then from five thousand throats and more there rose a lusty yell,
It rumbled through the valley, it rattled in the dell,
It knocked upon the mountain and recoiled upon the flat,
For Davis, mighty Davis, was advancing to the the mike.

There was ease in Davis' manner as he stepped into his place;
There was pride in Davis' bearing and a smile on Davis' face,
And when, responding to the cheers, he lightly doffed his hat,
No stranger in the croud could doubt `twas Davis at the Mike.

Ten thousand eyes were on him as he rubbed his hands with dirt;
Five thousand tounges applauded as he wiped them on his shirt.
Then, while the writhing agent ground the pen into his hip,
Defiance gleamed in Davis' eye, a sneer curled Casey's lip.

And now the contract came hurtling through the air,
And Davis stood a-watching it in haughty grandeur there,
Close by the sturdy owner the contract unheeded sped --
"That ain't my style," said Davis. "i will sign a broken down player,".

From the benches, with people in silver and black, there went up a muffled roar,
Like the beating of the storm waves on a stern and distant shore.
"Kill him; kill the refs!" shouted someone from the stand;--
And it's likely they'd have killed him had not Davis raised his hand.

With a smile of merchatile charity great Davis' visage shone;
He stilled the rising tumult; he bade the game go on;
He signaled to the agent, and once more the contract flew;
But Davis still ignored it, and the agent said, "another overpriced player."

"Fraud," cried the maddened thousands, and the echo answered "Fraud,"
But one scornful look from Davis, and the multitude was awed.
The saw his face grow stern and cold; they saw his muscles strain,
And they knew that Davis wouldn't let that year go by again.

The sneer is gone from Davis' lip; his teeth are clenched in hate;
He pounds with cruel violence his cane upon a novice writer.
And now the agent holds the epn, and now he lets it go,
And now the air is shattered by the force of Casey's blow.

Oh! somewhere in this favored land the sun is shining bright;
The band is playing somewhere, and somewhere hearts are light.
And somewhere men are laughing, and somewhere children shout;
But there is no joy in Oakland -- mighty Davis has Struck Out.

I am an old(ish) fart. I admit it. I drink simple beers, mass produced wines, and mixed drinks that do not require a blender or an umbrella. I watch the games with interest, but I do not allow them to rule the life I lead. Im just not that guy. I attend about 5 sporting events a year live, and the rest I watch with interest in high definition. Sometimes, I go to the local pub to watch with other fans, and I usually just order a couple drafts and some munchies. I do not microbeer, and I rarely dark ale. Its just not who I am.

Younger fans hear things like Pride and Poise or the greatness of the Raiders and they roll their eyes. That is not their Raider tradition....but it is mine. I can watch them lose, and I dont even lose sleep, because in my mind, the game today is not the game of greatness. There are no more gridiron goliaths who roam the field with blood on their faces or jerseys mangled by playing in dirt. Today, the athlete who gets a cut...a cut, gets a dressing placed right away. Grass stained jerseys are replaced at the half, and the QB cannot be touched or the guilty party may well face a firing squad.

It has changed, and with that, the fan has changed. The day Bo Jackson went down for the last time, no rival fans cheered. When Utley lost his legs, Rams fans were shocked. No one cheered when Dennis Byrd got hit trying to tackle Krieg. It was different somehow. Now adays, the fan gets information from so many sources, and sees so many instant replays that they have ventured into sensory overload. I have witnessed fans of the same team get into fights over a loss. The massive amount of craziness has gotten to the point where if you disagree with their opinion, you could be threatened by some e-thug. Two years ago, I had no idea what an e-thug was, but now I do.

Are all of the changes bad? Not in the least. Today's fan is very well informed. They know more about the X's and O's than anyone but a student of the game 20 years ago. The ability to communicate literally thousands of miles apart has brought about friendships that would never have been forged. Today, the fan from the east can readily see every game out west, and vice versa. Today, you can be a fan of the Raiders in Tennessee without merely reading the sports section. For the younger fans, the sports section was an entire area of your local newspaper dedicated to sports....fyi.

It has changed. It will never return to where it was, the innocence is lost and the lines have been redrawn. To me, the passing has been something I have witnessed for almost 4 decades. Seeing Otto on the sidelines clenching blood drenched hands, or seeing the narrowing eyes of Stabler as he was about to pull off a miracle drive for the win...those will remain a memory. Today, Otto would have been taken to the trainer's room to get treatment...and the Snake would be listening to his helmet speaker getting the next play to call out....and today, that is just the way it is.

I have mulled over the passing of Gene Upshaw for the last day or so, and I have listened to the different takes on his life and legacy. As a player, he had no equal. As an administrator of the directives of the Players Association, he has been both villified and praised. I don't think there is much more that can be offered on those issues. He was great in his time next to Shell, and he impacted the game significantly as an exec, for good or for bad.

But, I cannot in good faith let it go there. I was a child, almost a baby when he lost his first Super Bowl. I was almost a teen when he won it all, and I was in almost a high school graduate when he hung them up. Back then he was a giant. He was not some suit who managed millionaire's money, he was a guy you saw on trading cards. He was a hero. I know we are all supposed to get past that at some point in our lives, and not see them as hero's but as men...but I cannot with the greats of the past. I revert to being a kid when I think about him and the other great men who prowled the fields of my memories. I see Upshaw and all the rest as true modern day knights who rode out onto the field of battle week after week. It was the game of my youth that I miss as I think of him. I miss the brutes who battered each other week after week. We as Raider fans sometimes get a bad rap about living in the past, but this past is well worth reliving again and again.

The first one who left me with this feeling was Lyle, and it took a while to get past his death and his admissions of drug use. Other great players both Raiders and others soon followed, and now we place a new wreath around the memory of Gene. I never knew him, and he hasn't played in decades, but I miss the idea that he could still suit up and play that game one last time. There is s sadness to the finality of it, that creates a dull ache in my memories of those players. I know he will not be the last, and that too saddens me.

The roll call of former players and legends who have gone home is filled with the greatness of the game. And two days ago, they met up with another who made his mark...not as a player, not as an administrator....but as a hero. My hero.

And yes, right now, Im that 11 year old guy who got to watch them work out in the summer heat of southern California. Im that kid who loved every minute of being alive when they were truely hero's and great men. Im the kid who wanted more than anything to be just like him, and all of the other Raiders back in the day. Im still just a kid when all is said and done.

And I hope he read this.