Al Davis, RIP

Ever since I can remember, I’ve said that Captain Kirk was my hero.  But, having a fictional character as one’s hero is cheating.  So, if pressed to reveal which actual, living person was my hero, it has never really been in doubt.  Al Davis has been my hero sine I was junior high age.  Al died on Saturday.  And, life seems a bit emptier.

I miss Al.  Seriously, I miss him.  The Raiders won on Sunday, and it was really a bit sad to think that Al wasn’t there to see it.  It’s really sad to think that Al won’t see any more games, that he will never see another Super Bowl win.  And I will never again see him in a press conference, with that arrogant, devil-may-care attitude.  I love the Raiders.  And the Raiders are simply the personification of Al.

“Just win, baby.”  That is without a doubt the most perfect expression of the proper ethos of sports.  It doesn’t matter how you win; you don’t get points for style.  You win or you lose.  And if you aren’t playing to win, then what’s the point of playing at all?  It’s a game, and the point of a game is to win.  You don’t break the rules, but you never pass up the chance to get an edge.

“We don’t take what the defense gives us.  We take what we want.” 

“Commitment to Excellence”

“Pride and Poise”

“You don’t adjust.  You just dominate.”

Al was fundamentally Nietzschean:  the “Will to Win” is what mattered.  If you don’t have that Will, you don’t Win.

Al embodied that spirit.  He never cared what anyone thought about him.  He cared about winning.  He made mistakes.  Lots of them.  But, he also made some utterly brilliant decisions which the timid types would have never had the courage to make.  That’s Al:  he did what he wanted in the way he wanted to do it.

Silver and Black.  That color scheme is as recognizable as any in professional sports.  There is something about it that simply speaks to my soul.  Black has always been my favorite color—ever since I was very little.  If an organization can embody a color scheme, the Raiders, and Davis, embody Silver and Black.

We’ll never see his like again.  And it will be a real test for the organization he loved so much—how long can it stay true to Al?  And how long before I can watch the Raiders again without that tinge of sadness, that feeling that I really wish Al was watching the game too?  Mourning the death of a hero is an odd feeling.  I never met Al, and yet I still feel like a part of my life died on Saturday.

Al Davis, RIP