The NBA season is coming to a fantastic end. With no regret, I love the Lakers (my deepest loyalties reside in Rip City) and cannot wait to see Kobe go nuts in the Finals. There is no doubt in my mind that the Lakers will win this championship, and since I already know the outcome, I can relax and enjoy the playoffs stress-free. But that extra endorphin that is chilling me out also lets my mind wander to the next sports season. My mind drifts beyond the endless NASCAR races and unbearably irrelevant baseball games to the fall when football gracefully returns. College ball, backyard pigskin, fantasy leagues, and the gloriously superficial NFL – I love ’em all. It’s the time of year where it’s totally socially acceptable to get drunk at nine in the morning for the sake of football. A time when friends bond together at a Ducks game, and the next day they are bitter NFL rivals. It’s the time of year when the weekend is solely designated for fans.
But here’s the thing: I am currently and have always been an Oakland Raiders fan. My brother grew up in the Bay Area, and my dad was a Raider fan, so naturally when I was born I inherited the Raider gene. I had Bo Jackson posters and creepy pirate décor in my room. I still have my elementary school Raiders canteen and lunchbox. Throughout my life I have dawned Marcus Allen, Jeff Hostetler, Napoleon Kaufman, Tim Brown and JaMarcus Russell jerseys with pride. I went to a game in Oakland with my brother when I was 11 and watched the silver and black roll up and smoke Barry Sanders and the Detroit Lions. I was there through all the ’90s mediocrity, the spark of success that Jon Gruden brought in four seasons, the brutalizing experience of the tuck rule and every replay of it from thereon after, Rich Gannon’s 2001 MVP season, the disappearance of Pro Bowl center Barrett Robbins the week of Super Bowl XXXVII, and of course the inevitable destruction in that once-in-my-life Super Bowl.
As everyone who even mildly follows the NFL knows, the Raiders are the biggest laughing stock of the league. The Raiders have won 19 games in their last five seasons, following their destruction in Super Bowl XXXVII, and are at the mercy of a senile, death-proof psychopath that is Al Davis, whom I actually respect and admire. The team is the prototypical dysfunctional sports organization, like something straight out of “Any Given Sunday.” Once I would loudly proclaim my loyalty to the Raiders, but now I shy away from it, discouraged and embarrassed.
But every fall I scrape together every viable shred of dignity and optimism in hopes that this is the season where they turn things around; this season is certainly no different. They have a good supply of offensive ammunition, which now includes Heisman runner-up Darren McFadden, and the coaching may not be stable by any means, but at least it is respectable as opposed to the dismal Art Shell season. This fall the Oakland Raiders have a viable shot at a respectable, possibly Wild Card worthy season. This fall the Raiders might see McFadden turn into the next Bo Jackson. This fall the Raiders might even – with a spot of luck and some huge effort – win the AFC West. But then again, they might also win 19 games in the next five seasons. At this point, I am prepared for anything because this team has clawed at my soul for far too long.
However, I refuse to jump ship. The Oakland Raiders have taught me to be patient, humble and hopeful, attributes I wouldn’t have gained if I hadn’t stuck through the hardest times. Because I know the night is always darkest right before the dawn. There will be light at the end of the tunnel. There will always be one person who truly believes in you. There will be an answer, a path, or a sign. Peaks and valleys, highs and lows, wins and losses are part of life, and I’m certain the Raiders can be triumphant again. When you’re feeling lost and hopeless, know that one day everything will present itself, and there will always be a cause for hope. Struggles and losses are persistent, but there’s always tomorrow, next week, next month, next year, and there will always be a next football season.