Yes, for those that know me they will immediately counter any of my thoughts with “hey, aren’t you a Raider fan?” True. George Blanda’s incredible field goals and quarterback heroics in 1970 got me hooked. I soon became a season ticket holder until Al Davis did me a favor and moved the team to L.A. Struggling to finish my college degree while working full time and trying to help my wife with two youngsters, pro football quickly exceeded my humble finances. The subsequent drama with all things Radieresque doesn’t even need to be recapped.

We attended my wife’s 50 high school reunion in El Paso a couple of years ago. It was all Dallas, of course, with a few Texan fans complaining to the MC about equal time. I told a tablemate that I couldn’t care less about football because I was a Raider fan. “Why, they’re all criminals,” he exclaimed. We laughed but I really feel that he was serious. The perception, not enhanced one little bit by the working class mentality of Oakland and the gang paraphenalia marketing of the Los Angeles days (Ice Tea is just another entertainer now but at one time he, a devote Raider fan and he was cutting edge gansta rap) seemed valid. Until I began to look at what pro football had/has become.

It has always been a smashmouth sport, even at the youngest level. We heard grumbling about “modern gladiators” and the like even back in the Blanda days. For some it was like going to church (Frank Gifford and Monday Night Football) but for most it was a game of hard hits, snot bubbles, mouth pieces flying and, yes, Darryl Stingley put into a wheelchair by Jack Tatum. I think that the rules and the concussions will completely change the landscape of pro football but what worries me more is the ultimate fight channels and leagues that seem to have sprung from its media momentum. Now the NFL hierarchy are trying to stop negative shows and corporations are buying up channels and newspaper in an attempt to moderate what little news we now get. Sadly, I think we’ve just taken one more step toward the scenario Stephen King (writing as Bachman) portrayed in novels like The Long Walk and Running Man. Deaths in the ring, or arena, are right around the corner and I am not sure that our national viewers, who seem to be exactly what Nirvana was talking about in the Teen Spirit lyrics “Here we are now, entertain us,” even care. I just saw half an episode of Amish Mafia and just when I think they’ve scraped the entertainment bottom of the barrel, another reality show splashes across the screen.

I guess I am writing this (unedited for the most part) as a eulogy to a sport that I used to love but didn’t truly understand. Knowing now that suits are running things and that most of our sports entertainers are black I keep getting this recurring dream about the old post-slave minstrel shows. They called that “equality” back then and now it appears that we’ve just refined the paradigm and added a new thugness to it to capture the hardcore black youth. I’d say that it’s a sad day but it is not because coming to terms with one’s past is always positive. I have a handy remote that has a little button that helps me navigate what Bruce Springsteen called “99 channels and nothing on” looking for something of value. It is also quite helpful in turning the volume down when John Gruden gets into one of his rave-ups and it is at its best when I simply hit the power button and pick up King’s latest offering. Sorry, I got on a rant myself, huh?

Jerry Tuck is a retired San Andreas resident and an indie author. Contact him at olwhofan@aol.com or use the Contact Form.