The Emperor

Call me overdramatic or self-centered, but Al Davis hates me. I truly believe this now. And why does he hate me? Maybe it’s because I’m a Raiders fan, the type of person for whom he shows the least pity. That, and because I know more about the game of football than he does. Maybe that sounds egotistical. But let me make it clear that I do not consider myself more knowledgeable than every person in the NFL—just Al. And this is because every other person in the NFL, as well as most other fans, seems to know and understand the same basic principle about football today: the coach must be allowed to coach.

I have been a lifelong member of Raider Nation. I say it with pride, even as some of you look at me the way you do when you see an abused child. And I live in Pittsburgh, surrounded by Hoopleheads (a.k.a. Steelers—excuse me, “Stillers”—fans) who actually know less about football, in most cases, than even Al Davis. It’s a hostile environment for any that dare to openly wish for any team other than the Stillers to win a game on Sunday. Around here, to simply say that your favorite NFL team isn’t the Stillers, is akin to saying “I find it quite likely that your mother is a whore.” So instead, I say “F*ck the ‘Stillers.’” Hey, if they’re going to hate you, you might as well give them a clear reason to do so.

But I digress.

My point is that, when the foam frothing at the sides of their mouths has subsided, Hoopleheads quickly move onto the subject of Al Davis, and put forward that he has ruined his organization. And while this has always been a difficult statement to refute, I was often able to at least deflect it. “Well, I don’t think that decision was made by Al, but by someone else in the Oakland front offices.” “I can agree with signing that free agent—who knows, he may revert to being the 12 sack-per-season machine that he was 10 years ago.” “Really, I think people are underestimating the coaching ability of Art Shell.” All the while, though, I’ve silently cursed so many of the team’s moves. When you list the free agent signings, trades, and coach hirings in recent years that have made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end, it reads like a monologue from a Friars Club roast: Bill Callahan. Kerry Collins. Norv Turner. Randy Moss. Shell. Dominique Rhodes. Randy Moss (again).

When it was announced last spring that a baby-faced unknown by the name of Lane Kiffin was going to be hired as the new head coach, I once again picked up my Raider shield and vigilantly stood in front of Davis, turning aside criticism upon criticism. “Give him a chance,” I said. “How can you deride Al’s choice or Lane’s ability when he hasn’t so much as stepped onto a minicamp practice field yet?” “They were 2-14—can Kiffin do any worse?” But, oddly enough, I found myself (and Al) vindicated as the 2007 off-season, preseason, and regular season progressed. “Kiff” quickly built a rapport with his team, especially the veterans, many of whom were older than him. He got the younger players re-enthused about being on a team that had gone 2-14 in the previous year. He made strides with the offense, re-establishing an offensive line and running game that had struggled under Turner and Shell. He made the Raiders more formidable, six of their twelve losses being by 7 points or less.

Now the Raiders have a solid foundation and signs of hope to build upon, and the idea of a playoff run in the near future is finally realistic. Oakland only won four games in 2007, but have a high draft pick as a result that they can either use to pick up a top-tier talent, or trade for more picks with which to bolster the remaining problem areas. And now that renewed excitement has begun to build around the young wunderkind’s efforts, all was at peace in Raider Nation. Then the news story broke on Friday that stuck a dagger in the back of every Oakland fan: Al Davis wants Kiffin gone.

Why, you ask? Because Kiff wants to control the team that he coaches. Sounds outrageous, doesn’t it? The man who was hired to command the troops and rally them from depths of despair, has done so, and proven himself trustworthy, and now wants to make moves with which the owner doesn’t agree. In most NFL organizations, this would be a cause for moderate concern by the owner, at most. He would sit back, look at the situation logically, and most likely say “I’ve trusted this guy so far, and he’s done right by the team. Let’s wait until he has run aground before calling him incapable of steering the ship.” The coach would be allowed to do what he felt necessary, so long as the win-loss tally continued to grow more and more balanced. But Al Davis isn’t most owners. And he’s not capable of rational thought; can’t even fathom it. He sees no further than the tip of his nose, and knows nothing other than that he owns the team; what he says goes, regardless of what anyone else says or thinks. A coach is an employee, and no employee of his is going to dare impose a will of his or her own. Who cares what the NFL experts think? Who cares what the fans think?

It’s a familiar story for anyone who bleeds Silver and Black. Jon Gruden, who very likely could have led Oakland back to Super Bowl glory, was let go because he was considered too stubborn, and would not bend to the Emperor’s will. So instead, he was cast off, only to reappear on the opposing sideline in Super Bowl XXXVII, where he mercilessly tore apart the team that he had built. As a Raiders fan, I sat in front of the TV for only two and a third quarters of that game. As the Bucs began running away with it in the 3^rd, I pulled off my Tim Brown jersey, changed the channel to something—anything—that wasn’t football-related, and poured myself a stiff drink. I knew in that moment what I am only now, some 5 years later, willing to admit: Al Davis had cost us any chance we had of winning that game, of winning any Super Bowl in the next 15 years. Raider Nation wept that night; the lost, hopeless tears of a people whose god had forsaken them.

The wound had begun to heal. 2007 marked the first time in years when one could say that the franchise moved in the right direction. Raiders fans everywhere began to feel proud again, emerging from their hiding places to embrace a new optimism. But it only took three weeks of 2008 before our ruler on high reminded us that our hopes and views are inconsequential. We are all merely serfs, only to speak when the Emperor feels so amused as to permit it. God forbid someone should mention that he is promenading without a stitch of clothing on his person.