For Raiders, No Pride and No Poise

The Oakland Raiders gave up weeks ago, some would say years ago. They once again are ready to put the wraps on another lost season. But maybe the real tragedy in the decline of a once great franchise goes beyond the team and gets right to the man.

Plain and simple, nobody fears Al Davis anymore. Not the other teams, not the commissioner, not the Oakland city officials, and not even his players. Nobody.

Davis used to cut a pretty ferocious figure. He was the renegade owner in a play-it-safe league, someone who crossed every line drawn before him, someone who hit with greater authority than Jack Tatum in the open field. Davis had influence within and beyond the NFL, he knew how to find football players, he knew how to build winners and he knew how to concoct an outlaw image for his Ray-Duhs and himself.

Now we find him up in his private box, baring his teeth over another mistake, ducking the intrusive TV camera, absorbing another beating and making another slow walk to the loser’s locker room. Our only reminder of yesterday is the trademark white Raiders warmup suit he insists on wearing. It clings to him in a way his legacy does not.

The outfit indicates a 68-year-old man is still trying to live in the past, but his team ruins the fantasy with grim reminders of the present. By missing the playoffs for the ninth time in 12 years, with an eroding fan base and with no hint of hope in the near future, the Raiders and Davis have reached rock-bottom. They’re now harmless.

When Davis went against conventional thinking in the ‘70s and ‘80s and took players nobody wanted, it helped him win three Super Bowls. There was Alzado and the Tooz and Plunkett. Davis was either a daredevil, a genius or both. Now when he takes chances, it’s a reach. That was evident this year, when Davis’ most important and pricey decisions backfired--obvious revelations of his lost touch.

Neil O’Donnell hit Larry Brown with two passes right between the numbers, and on the basis of those gimme interceptions a few Super Bowls ago, Davis figured Brown was another Lester Hayes and overpaid to get him. In reality, Brown was the most undeserving Super Bowl MVP since Fred Biletnikoff (sorry, but Art Shell and Gene Upshaw were more deserving in Super Bowl XI). Pretty soon, receivers were sending limos for Brown. Everyone but Davis knew he didn’t have the speed to lock up most receivers. That’s why Brown was yanked and then suspended this season when he couldn’t deal with the truth.

Davis paid an equally steep price for Brown’s former Dallas Cowboy teammate Russell Maryland, and even though the defensive tackle is somewhat serviceable, the $31.5 million package deal for both players is a waste of a small fortune.

Davis didn’t allow that to curb his fetish for Super Bowl MVPs. He was warned beforehand about Desmond Howard, who bombed in Washington and Jacksonville before having the season of his life with the Packers. Howard was a fine return man but as a receiver couldn’t catch a cold in Green Bay. That didn’t stop the delusional Davis from handing Howard $1.5 million a pop, then watching in horror as Howard failed to make an impact in the return game or catch a meaningful pass.

As an encore, Davis hired Joe Bugel to coach the Raiders. He’s a nice guy, but he is not exactly a proven winner and may not be welcomed back. Halfway through the season the players were rebelling over the play-calling of offensive coordinator Ray Perkins.

A losing team doesn’t endear itself to many. Not even to Oakland, an insecure city that forgave Davis for leaving a decade ago. Faced with those rip-off personal-seat licenses and obscene ticket prices and an awful product, you might say the welcome wagon has now backed up and left. The Raiders didn’t sell out the Coliseum, and now city officials are sparring with Davis over terms of the lease.

The Raiders were their most aggressive this year when they scolded ABC’s Al Michaels, who poked fun at a bad team and a franchise that wrapped itself in outdated slogans like “Commitment to Excellence” and “Pride and Poise” and “Team of the Decades.”

Maybe it’s time Al Davis modified one of those tired expressions and directed it toward himself.

Just sell, bay-be.