Al Davis, Raider Jerseys And Breaking The NFL Color Barrier
A few weeks ago, one of the greatest Mexican-American icons passed away. His smiling face brought joys to many. He was a polarizing individual – those who loved him would follow him to the gates of Hell, and those who hated him hated him did so with a fist-waving hate usually reserved for cartoons. The man I am referring to is Al Davis, the former owner of the Oakland Raiders.
I always thought that the creators of the Simpsons had patterned Mr. Burns after Al Davis. They both appear to be cantankerous curmudgeons that lived in the past and whom no one ever referred to by first name. I always thought Mr. Davis was like that landlord that was your doorstep collecting rent on the 1st, but was hard to get ahold of as soon as something went wrong with the plumbing.
As I was growing up I considered him to be a crazy old man and the Calvin Klein of the cholos. There was no way of escaping Raider jerseys in the mind-19080s. They were everywhere, and my parents would not buy me one because it was like some gateway fashion drug that led to sagging pants and “injecting marijuana into my veins.” However, all the kids wore them along with what they considered to be the Raider attitude of stepping on anyone who got in your way. All of my peers were drunk on those old NFL Films that glorified the Raiders and Al Davis as the last gunslingers of the West – looking to punch God himself square in the jaw, should he consider lining up on the other side of the football.
By the time I reached my glory days high school, I hated the Al Davis for two reasons. First of all, he had moved the team from Los Angeles to Oakland. I have never supported the Raiders since then. I do not know if it makes me a sports purist, but I feel betrayed when a sports team leaves my city. In my eyes, Al Davis had betrayed me. Secondly, I hated Al Davis because he continued making money from my geographically challenged neighbors who hated the San Francisco 49ers for no better reason than the fact they were from San Francisco, yet thought Oakland was located near Huntington Park.
As much as I hated Al Davis, I also respected the man for breaking racial barriers in the NFL. After all, in 1979, he gave Tom Flores a shot at a head coaching position making him only the second Latino to do so. Then he hired Art Shell in 1989 to coach the Raiders, making him the first African-American head coach. The man was able to spot talent, although I think it was his demeanor as “win at all costs” attitude rather than his progressive hiring that made him a controversial member of the football community.
Maybe if he would have been a little bit warmer, he would have been as adored as the Rooney family down in Pittsburgh. Maybe if he had depended more on his staff than his gut he would have been more like Patriots owner Robert Kraft. However, Al Davis did it all on his own and fired or severely crippled anyone who went against him – and that is what made him an original. If he is in Heaven tonight he is probably telling God how to run the place, and if he is in Hell, he is probably suing the Devil for the rights to relocate it.
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