Columns: Critics can't count out Raider owner

Super Bowl XXXVII

Critics can't count out Raider owner

ROMANO

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SAN DIEGO -- Once, he was an innovator. An intellectual in a physical world. A rogue who was as keen on beating the establishment as he was the Broncos.

Yet with the passing of so many seasons, the disappointments of too many falls, there were those who wondered if, finally, this game had passed Al Davis by. Which, of course, was silly. He would have sued if it had.

The Raiders are back in the Super Bowl, and their cheerless leader is back in the spotlight even if he has spent the better part of a week ducking it.

And so for the first time in many days, Davis has an opportunity to further his football legend. To remind us his most momentous victories really have come in stadiums and not in courtrooms.

You know, it has been 19 years since the NFL's rebel with probable cause left Tampa Stadium on a January night with the Lombardi Trophy in hand.

He has been in plenty of law offices since and more than a few courthouses. He has become litigious and contentious. He has battled coaches, players, opponents, cities and commissioners. He has been an anarchist when it suited his purposes and an elitist when it did not.

But, mostly, he has become a caricature of himself. At 73, he is Garbo in leather and silver sunglasses.

In many ways, this is a crying shame. A generation of football fans have grown up seeing Davis as little more than a peculiar-looking character who seemingly holds a grudge against the world.

They do not recognize the 33-year-old Davis who became coach of the Raiders in 1963 and took a 1-13 loser and, a season later, turned it into a 10-4 contender.

They do not see the 36-year-old Davis who became commissioner of the AFL in 1966 and, with his raid on big-name quarterbacks, instigated the eventual merger with the NFL.

They have no comprehension of the middle-aged Davis who, as the owner and de facto general manager of the Raiders, directed the franchise to three Super Bowl titles between 1976-83.

"People absolutely underestimate his intelligence," Bucs general manager Rich McKay said. "Al Davis is a very, very bright guy."

This is the paradox of Al Davis. He's the kind of guy who is so distrustful of others that he supposedly runs background checks on reporters but also is forward-thinking enough to hire the NFL's first African-American head coach as well as a female chief executive officer.

An astonishing eight former players have asked him to be their presenters at the Hall of Fame, yet he has had well-publicized feuds with former players such as Marcus Allen and former coach Mike Shanahan.

Ask current Raiders what they think of Davis and rarely do you get a similar response.

"He's larger than life," fullback Jon Ritchie said. "Look at all he's accomplished in creating this team and being an innovator in the league."

"He's my boss. He signs my paychecks," defensive tackle Sam Adams said. "I don't have anything else to say about him."

"We call him the Don. What he says, goes," running back Charlie Garner said. "When you smell that cologne, you know he's around. And you better be paying attention because this is his world."

In Davis' world, there are days reserved for winning and days spent preparing to win. Everything else is a segue.

Which is why the past two decades have not worn well on Davis. Since their last Super Bowl victory in Tampa in 1984, more times than not the Raiders have been a .500 team or worse.

He has moved his franchise from Oakland to Los Angeles and back again, and he has fought the NFL every step of the way. Once, he sued the league because it wouldn't let him leave one city. Later, he sued the league because he said it forced him to leave a city. When the USFL wanted to sue the NFL, it called on Davis to testify against his fellow owners.

He has had little to say at the Super Bowl this week although, in what would be classic Davis style, there are rumors he will hold a news conference today to compete with commissioner Paul Tagliabue's annual Super Bowl address.

"I've never known him to be a social person," said receivers coach Fred Biletnikoff, a longtime Davis supporter.

If you looked hard enough, you could probably come up with a variety of plausible explanations for Oakland's mostly dormant showing in the 1990s.

Some would say Davis grew infatuated with his own image of being a risk-taker and lost too many gambles on too many fringe players.

Others might suggest he spent so much time battling Tagliabue and city governments that the team suffered.

Or perhaps it was simply a byproduct of the NFL's move toward parity.

Whatever the cause, the symptoms have quietly passed. The Raiders were a blown call from the AFC Championship Game last season and, this week, are the Super Bowl favorites against the Bucs.

So has the game passed Al Davis by?

You be the judge.