Bleacher Report - Articles by Jeff McMaster

The Bay Area Sports Press and the Raiders: Where Ethics Go To Die

Jeff McMaster — Wed, 23 Jul 2008 09:35:06 -0400

First and foremost, I’m not an Al Davis apologist. I respect the man for the positives he’s brought to the NFL.

The late Bill Walsh counted Al Davis among his closest friends. They rank as two great football minds that would have you wishing you were a fly on the wall when they discussed the game.

While the press painted one as a god in the NFL, the other has been vilified as a pariah. It’s been widely reported in the local press in northern California’s Bay Area that Al Davis is teetering on the brink of insanity.

Of course, if they were talking about the ownership of the 49ers or Walsh, the press would be more inclined to print that they were what I like to call, “synaptically disengaged.”

But this is the Bay Area press we're talking about today, kiddies. A group that, when Al Davis and the Raiders are their target, shoot straight from the hip and aren’t too concerned with collateral damage. They’re akin to the modern-day version of the Keystone Cops.

First, let me offer my sincerest apologies to those writers whose ethics continue to be beyond reproach. Lumping them together with anti-Raiders crowd does them a deep disservice.

So to Jerry McDonald, Jason Jones, Phil Barber, and the rest, I offer my condolences for the quagmire of muddy reporting that you wade through on a daily basis to get yourselves heard.

I grew up reading Jim Murray in Los Angeles. Mr. Murray was the Michelangelo of American sports writers. He created masterpieces with his words, and above all else, he did so with dignity and journalistic ethics.

These days, the best you could say about Ostler, Gay, Dickey, Cohen, et al, is that they are the Monets of sports writers. They look good from afar, but up close, they‘re a mess. Their adolescent glee in writing their tall tales is comparable to painting with crayons.

They’ve been entrusted by the public to inform, entertain, and opine. The catch is the word "trust," indicates that they do so with at least a modicum of integrity.

But where Al Davis and the Raiders are concerned, they’ve willfully bypassed the key ingredient necessary to bake this particular cake. Unfortunately, there are plenty of people out there who are so busy washing down their slice with Kool Aid that they don’t taste the bitterness.

To quote Scott “Scooter“ Oslter, “What I hear from a lot of fans sounds like disgust and outrage. They can't believe the way Davis is jacking around his kid coach, courting catastrophe.”

Um, Scooter, the "disgust and outrage" was a direct result of the reckless reporting by you and your mediots. Some people are willing to believe anything they hear. Hey, Bush got elected twice didn’t he?

Kiffin said, “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire," and there is no doubt that there was some dissension in Oakland at the end of the season. The fact that the Raiders aren’t a team to air their dirty laundry in public has apparently given the hacks out there the green light to embellish things to their little heart's content, forever citing “a source close to the Raiders.”

Scooter likes to begin his column with the line, “Deep thoughts and cheap shots...” that way he‘s always sure to get it half right. Like the others, he reported the imminent firing of Kiffin, then wrote that Kiffin had no idea that the Raiders had hired receivers coach James Lofton, despite it being publicly reported that Kiffin interviewed Lofton.

Then again Scooter, with your infinite football knowledge, you predicted the Raiders would win two, possibly three, games next year. Scooter, the Raiders have a weaker schedule, additions of Gibril Wilson, DeAngelo Hall, Michael Bush, Darren McFadden, etc, and the increased experience of last year's rookies, and you came up with two wins?

Either you're drinking more than Kool Aid, or you're just a tad unwilling to admit that the “synaptically disengaged” fella in the jump suit just has had a hell of an offseason. Despite your recent article, Al Davis doesn’t actually appear to be “daffy as the Mad Hatter.”

As for Nancy Gay, she is to the Raiders what Alanis Morrisette is to men. Let us not forget that Nancy scooped the entire world and reported last year that Kiffin was going to cut Warren Sapp because they were too close to the same age.

Dear Nancy, don’t you know that Kiffin can’t cut anyone? Only Al makes those decisions. Well, at least that’s what you reported.

Nancy opined that Al was furious in hindsight over Kiffin’s moving of Randy Moss on draft day. Perhaps Nancy should have read what the real reporters were writing. Moss had already regressed into his team-destroying, "me first" attitude when Kiffin first spoke to him after being named head coach.

McDonald reported, “Moss told him (Kiffin) in pointed, profane terms he wasn’t interested in talking.” Basically, Moss had tied the Raiders' hands. Knowing that Moss was most likely going to undermine Kiffin and poison the locker room, it made sense to move him and free up the enormous cap space he would have eaten up.

Not to mention the detrimental effect he may have had on impressionable rookie QB JaMarcus Russell.

Then there’s the venerable Mr. Glenn Dickey. You’d think that, as long as he’s been around, he would have bonded with Al over Geritol shots with Ensure chasers. Not Glenn, apparently he‘s not happy sharing the Bay Area's geriatric sports stage.

On Jan. 28, 2008, Dickey wrote an article that actually called for the NFL commissioner to remove Al Davis from decision-making power. Dickey wrote, “Goodell should step in and put Davis’ son, Mark, in control, and then give him the name of a competent football man who could help him make decisions.”

Please Glenn, this is football, not international politics. Leave the coup d’etat for the real ruthless dictators. Ironically, Ostler did compare Al Davis to Fidel Castro. Not that Ostler in prone to hyperbole....

If the writers mentioned above are true village idiots, then Lowell Cohen is their king. Cohen actually makes the others look competent. Although he whips out his crayons for the Santa Rosa Press- Democrat, a small, local paper, in the age of the Internet, his words are heard loud and clear, as if he’s actually on the main stage.

Here are some of Cohen’s finest examples of “journalistic ethics.” I don‘t have to render an opinion about King Cohen, his words speak for themselves.

“I have a preconception about the Raiders—and I admit it. I expect them to fail. I expect them to embarrass themselves, and then I expect them to invent wacko excuses. I expect to write negative things about them. I expect Raiders executives to give me the cold eye as if I made the team bad.

Then you think of the Raiders. A smile crosses your lips. The Raiders give you the giggle you require because they are the NFL’s joke franchise. They are the team that keeps on giving. What do the Raiders give? Comic relief.

We know Al Davis tried to dump Lane Kiffin. There was that letter of resignation Al tried to jam down the kid coach’s throat. Kiffin regurgitated the letter. We assume Al is working on a buyout. In the weird, funny world of the Raiders, where no normal logic applies, this would be logical.”

Wow Lowell, do you get paid to write this stuff? If so, I’ve got to hand it to you buddy, you are definitely an overachiever.

The Raiders rarely speak to the press about the inner goings-on in Oakland, but in the case of the Kiffin rumors, they did speak out.

"The whole story is a flat-out lie and a total fabrication," said Raiders senior executive John Herrera. "We deny the entire story. No authority has been stripped. That's unabashedly false."

Then from Raiders CEO Amy Trask, "His authority remains unchanged," and, "That's simply not true. He has all the authority he had when he was hired. The authority he has or had under his original contract remains unchanged."

But why believe actual living breathing Raiders executives? For all we now know, the mystery “source close to the Raiders” was the cleaning lady, but more likely it was the bitter ex-Raiders personnel guy Mike Lombardi.

The Raiders fired Lombardi, the one-time heir apparent to Al Davis himself, after he feuded with Art Shell and reportedly undermined Shell and the organization by leaking information to the press; that’s a big no-no in Raider land.

Lombardi hasn’t been all that covert in his Raider bashing since being granted a microphone and camera on the set of the NFL network, after a short stint in Denver as a personnel assistant.

The Raiders are panned almost daily on a national scale, in addition to being smeared by the local prognosticators. Chris Mortensen was duped into taking the Kiffin story national in January, reporting that Kiffin’s firing was “imminent within the week.” That dreaded “source close to the Raiders” failed him once again.

But it didn’t fail to upset the peace of the fans who didn’t read the words and hear the rumors with skepticism. While the pro and anti-Al fans bickered, the merry band of village idiots snickered. If this were a political campaign, we’d be talking about Al Davis being “swift-boated.”

Fine by me, let them squawk. While the poison pens are furiously scribbling out the latest unfounded rumors, the Raiders have, not so quietly, been building quite an impressive roster.

Lane Kiffin and his staff, and nearly every player, worked hard through the offseason to build on the success of last season, and hopefully the entire football world will underestimate what the Raiders have done.

Let them mock the man whose bust is permanently affixed in the NFL Hall of Fame in Canton. Al Davis simply wants to win. In the end, the Raiders have only one place to prove themselves, and that’s on the football field.

As a Raiders fan that stays close to the goings on in Oakland, I see a bright future ahead. As for the haters? Let them eat cake.

An Oakland Raiders Fan Gets Revenge: The Tuck Rule Revisted

Jeff McMaster — Wed, 16 Jul 2008 07:46:37 -0400

While I am not a proponent of fan bashing by any team's fans, I still have a dark spot in my Raider heart for the events that occurred in New England on Jan. 19, 2002.

To most of the football-eating world, the ruling by Walt Coleman and the NFL was a travesty that enabled the New England Patriots to win the first, of what many consider, three tainted Super Bowls.

Cheating allegations aside, I have the utmost respect for the abilities of Tom Brady and the organization that Bill Belichick has built in NE. I just wish he hadn't tarnished his achievements with his win-at-all-costs mentality.

In the six years since the "Snow Job" game, I have had many a conversations with NE fans. For the most part, they have been obnoxious and arrogant about their team's achievements, which has given me quite a bias against them.

I have run into a few articulate and genuine individuals with whom I've had great football discussions, and I choose to believe that they are the majority in NE, not the very vocal minority.

That said, I would like to relate an experience from a good friend at last year's Giants-Patriots Super Bowl. It was his own little revenge party, which he pulled off with an audience, and quite frankly, one of the funniest stories I've heard in years.

My buddy, who I'll call "Pancho", to protect his identity, is well connected in the NFL party circles, and had been in Phoenix attending many of the Super Bowl extravaganzas.

Let's face it, Pancho goes where the women are, and has had the success in life to pursue hottest of the hot. Where you and I might be just a bit overwhelmed by the Playboy girls, Pancho is in his element.

One of his acquaintances has been kind enough to see to it that he had a very good single seat to the big game. Having been tainted by the very same bias against the Patriots and their fans, he didn't have any desire to watch what we all felt would be another New England victory, so he decided to sell the ticket the morning of the game.

No doubt that decision was also fueled by having an outrageous hangover from several days of partying, and a fine, shall we say, accoutrement taking up residence in his hotel suite.

Being the businessman that he is, he'd heard that the going price for his ticket was fairly substantial and decided, on a whim, to post a local ad on Craigslist. It wasn't the smartest move. He'd posted his cell number and received 50 calls in an hour.

Pancho, always one to make the best of a bad situation, decided to have a little fun wheeling and dealing. He quickly figured out, by the area code of the callers, who was calling from a New England number vs. a New York/Jersey digit.

He developed a script and returned the first call from a Pats fan.

"Pancho here, returning your call regarding the Super Bowl ticket."

"Yo...You still got that ticket? How much?"

"Yes sir, and thanks for calling. Allow me to put something out front before we talk about you buying my ticket. There are special requirements for purchase. I am a Raider fan and I'm going to need you to admit that we got f***ed in the Tuck Rule incident."

"You serious?"

"Yes, I have a ticket in my hand (gave out the section and seat), and it is a great seat. If you want me to sell it to you, then I am going to need to hear these words: 'New England did not deserve to go to the SB the year of the Snow Job. It was a bad call and a fumble. We don't talk about it, but we all know it deep down the Raiders were screwed.'"

The first guy, in an accent that sounded like he has a wad of bread in his mouth said, "Aw forget about that, do you want to sell the ticket or not?"

Pancho hung up. If they weren't going to play the game his way, then they weren't going to get to the second step of negotiating a completely unreasonable price for the ticket.

The guy calls back and says, "Are you fricking serious?"

Pancho replies, "About as serious as a heart attack, sir. This is your Karma you have on the line. I have the ticket, and you are going to have to sing to get it. Do you have your confession ready or should I move on to your next-door neighbor whom I have on hold? Listen, I'm in a hurry."

This time bread mouth hung up. I have the utmost respect for that particular fan, he was a true believer and couldn't bring himself to making the admission.

Pancho decided to field the calls with his phone on speaker while hanging out in the sports bar at his hotel. By the time he was finished, he had coerced eight confessions as a crowd stood around his table laughing uproariously while being thoroughly entertained by his nefarious activities. It's not only Raiders fans who hold a grudge with the Pats fans.

Eventually he sold the ticket to a Giants fan of 30 years. He slept well that night knowing that the elderly gentleman had been able to live his football dream, while at the same time he was able to exact his own little bit of sweet revenge for the years of ugliness we've seen from the vocal minority.

Pancho watched the game from a legendary local sports bar, and ironically there were four Pats fans (two couples) in full gear a couple of tables over, as Pancho recalled, "They were making a whole lot of noise and yelling 18-0 over and over, then 18-0-and-a-half at the intermission."

"After the game, I watched both the female Pats fans weep uncontrollably, and their men just too devastated to console them, after Eli engineered that sweet last-minute drive. I thought about that elderly gentleman I sold the ticket to. This was meant to be. He was meant to be there and to witness that, and I was meant to be in that bar to enjoy every last tear."

Over the years, if we are lucky, our teams will be great, and almost certainly great disappointments. It's always a good idea to practice humility in victory and be stoic in defeat. You just never know when Karma is going to run over your Dogma.

The Love of a Raiders Fan

Jeff McMaster — Tue, 15 Jul 2008 02:17:34 -0400

With all the recent bickering on this site about the Raiders and all the haters, I thought it time to share my story about my love for the team and the fans of the Silver and Black.

In the late 90's I was a 30-something guy raising my three kids in the foothills of the Gold Country in Northern California. One day I found the Raiders Usenet newsgroup, alt.sports.football.pro.oak-raiders (ASFPOR).

Thinking this would simply be a forum for discussing the Raiders, I subscribed and began reading. Boy was I ever wrong. What I found was an eclectic group filled with sharp minds from all over the country and even on other continents. The Raiders weren't the only topic of discussion by a long shot.

WWW is generally understood to stand for World Wide Web, but in this forum it stood for Wild Wild West. The belly laughs were abundant; the caustic wit dripped from every post, and the absolute love of everything Raiders was the glue that bound them together.

I jumped in and began throwing in my two cents and was welcomed into the family with open arms. Over the next couple of years, "family" became a very real word I'd use to describe these folks. Although it was a cyber family, we leaked enough of our personal lives in our posts to get to know each other pretty well.

The haters, or trolls, were in abundance in the group, most usually posting some drivel about how all Raiders fans were costumed Halloween wannabe's, or former and future residents of the California penal system.

It was these poor witless victims of their own lack of originality that provided the daily entertainment. The mental assassination of these clowns brought tears to my eyes at times, leaving me laughing so hard that literally falling out of my chair was a regular occurrence.

Then one day in 1999 I broached the subject of us all getting together for a game at some point. Some of the group were locals who regularly attended games, and many of the others had never been to the Mecca of all things Raider, the House of Thrills in Oakland known as the Coliseum.

As we discussed the possibilities, a name for our little gathering was born. A simple typing error about the impending Tailgate party (I left off the T in Tailgate) and the moniker was born, we would call it Alegate. And so it came to pass, one Sunday night in 1999 that we gathered in Oakland for the first of many Alegates.

We had folks fly in from all over—Manhattan, Hawaii, Philly, LA, etc. The stories they told in the aftermath were priceless, and it was like meeting long lost brothers. The tailgating was hosted by a couple of locals, and to a man (and a few women) it was like coming home.

If you have never experienced tailgating in Oakland, there is no way words can properly describe the mass of humanity. A shanty town of pop-up tents, music blaring from every direction, the smoke of BBQ's creating an absolute environmental nightmare for the EPA, all done in the name of Raider love.

Over the next couple of years we continued these get togethers, including a road trip meeting in San Diego where we spent a couple of days in the Gaslamp Quarter partying amongst the sedate locals.

Most of us came without game tickets, and much to our amusement found Chargers fans willing to drive down to the Gaslamp to sell us their season tickets.

That was something so completely foreign to a Raiders fan. Giving up your seat to an arch rival so he could go into YOUR HOUSE, and root against YOUR TEAM seemed unthinkable. But they did it, willingly and in droves. Never would that occur in Oakland, regardless of the tough times our team was experiencing.

My own kids were very familiar with Raider games. We made the trek down to Oakland several times a year and feasted before the game, shouted until hoarse during, and made the long drive home from Mecca satiated by our experience.

In October of 2002, the unthinkable happened. The wonderful girl pictured above with her older brother in the background, my 16-year old daughter Kristiana, was tragically killed in an afternoon car crash.

On that Indian summer evening in our hometown, our lives came sudden screeching halt and veered off in a direction that I would never wish upon any person, loved or hated.

The level of shock that night had us on autopilot as we notified family and friends, and gave solace to those who showed up on our doorstep with tears in their eyes and no words to express to each other the horror that we all felt.

There was one group we hadn't notified, and that was our Raider family. As my wife and I sat down to compose the most dreadful post of our lives that evening, it seemed so natural to include them.

Many of them knew my kids personally; we'd visited each others homes, attended high school football games together, and had spent many a day gathered around the BBQ in Oakland as we prepared to root for our beloved Raiders.

So we wrote of our horror and hit send. The outpouring of condolences was unbelievable. Word spread to other teams' newsgroups in our loose online community and many a parent, regardless of their team affiliation, wrote that they made it a special point to kiss and hug their children that night and appreciate the gift that they had.

Sadly, there were others who were not so kind. The disillusioned wretches of society who thought it fun to make sport of a tragedy crawled out from under their rocks, and we included them in our prayers.

Our daughter was a beautiful spirit and an old soul, and she would have felt sorry for anyone who harbored such hatred in their souls. She would have felt it her personal mission to bring some beauty into their dark lives, and to honor her, we forgave.

Amongst the hundreds of mourners at her funeral were the faces of my Raider brothers and sisters, shedding tears at the loss we all experienced, and laughs as we remembered our girl's outstanding sense of humor and ability to bring a smile to any who were fortunate enough to cross her path.

In February of 2003 we received a hand delivered letter from our Raider friends. It had crisscrossed the country for months, going to the homes of our friends as they added their own special words.

This message of love and support had traveled some 43,000 miles throughout the US and Canada before finding its way to our doorstep. It is a special treasure that we still cherish today, nearly six years later.

I wrote this story to share something special. While we may be just fans of a sports team on the surface, often it goes much deeper than that. Unfortunately, some may only possess the ability to view others in a shallow and preconceived way that fits into their tiny worlds.

For those of us who have learned tolerance and wisdom through tragedy, our loss opened a door to a magnificent world of compassion and friendship. I absolutely cherish these friends, not just the Raiders fans, but those of other teams who shared their humanity.

While there are those who simply view the Oakland Raiders as a down-on-their-luck football team to be made sport of, I view them as a portal to the greatest gift of all, the love of friends and family.

As we gather again on December 14, 2008, for yet another Alegate, we will raise our glasses and toast those who are no longer with us, wish Godspeed to those whose lives have become a struggle, and count the many blessings that have bestowed themselves upon us over the years.

We will revel in the camaraderie of friendship and finally toast the Oakland Raiders, whose greatness is not only in their past, but also in their future.