Bottom of the Bird Cage 3/27
While Traveling America’s Highways and Byways
It’s Day No. 86 on the year and we must raise our glass in toast to one of the greatest athletes to wear the number, Pro Football Hall of Fame defensive tackle Buck Buchanan.
It was on this day in 1963 that movie director Quentin Tarantino was born. And it was on this day in 2002 that the entertainment world suffered a triple-header of untimely passing as actor Dudley Moore went at the age of 66, comedian Milton Berle died at the age of 93 and movie director Billy Wilder left us at the age of 95.
And it was on this day in 1998 that the Food & Drug Administration approved public use of sildenafil citrate, otherwise known as the little blue pill. Viagra.
Things haven’t been the same since.
From FOXSports.com columnist Mark Kriegel: At the base of a grand staircase, the exhibit was installed to commemorate the American Football League, conceived half a century ago by a gang of renegade rich men who called themselves “The Foolish Club.” But the photograph that catches my eye features Al Davis, newly appointed as the commissioner, sandwiched between Buffalo Bills owner Ralph Wilson and Jack Kemp, then a handsome young quarterback. Davis wears a skinny tie, a toothy grin and just enough pompadour to announce his contempt for the standards and practices of company men. He’s in his early thirties, just beginning to feel the possibilities of his power.
And now, as the owners adjourn from their morning meetings here at the St. Regis resort, the man himself comes into view.
Almost half a century later, the pompadour has been decimated, a matted wisp in its place. Davis’ eyes are red-rimmed and damp. His hands are purplish and papery with age. But never — ever — has Al Davis looked more defiant, even heroic, than he does right now, pushing a walker across the marble floor
I wrote a story for the Super Bowl XLII program about the 50th season of the American Football League. It was a pretty straightforward piece about the league’s birth, its trials and tribulations, but mostly its legacy. Obviously, Al Davis was mentioned in that story.
A few days after the game itself I got a phone call from one of Al’s minions out in Oakland. He felt Davis did not get his just due in the story. He wasn’t angry, or accusatory in any fashion. His intent was more to educate me on how important Davis was to the history of the AFL, if I didn’t already know. Well, I’m well aware of his effect on the AFL, the NFL, Oakland, Los Angeles and the annals of jurisprudence. We had a nice conversation and parted ways on our phone call with nary an angry word.
But it was evidence to me that Al Davis, and those around Al Davis, are thinking about his legacy and how it will be remembered. It’s easy in this day and age where the past doesn’t matter to look at what the Raiders have done recently and laugh at the manner and method of an old man. Those loyal to Davis fear the greatness of the Raiders has been forgotten and buried under the guano of recent failures. I think that’s one reason Davis has struck out so publicly against former coach Lane Kiffin. He feels his employee tried to embarrass the Raiders and that’s not something Davis will put up with, even at his advanced age and with all his infirmities.
Davis is struggling physically and his time with the football world is short. He will not go quietly.
From Los Angeles Times columnist T.J. Simers:
It’s usually the first question when traveling if L.A. is mentioned: “When are you folks going to get an NFL team?” It seems to be a big concern to people living elsewhere, but the answer around here is usually the same: “Who cares?”
Given all the wasted rhetoric to date, it’s like waiting for Beckham to make an impact. The interest is long gone. The NFL is staying here in Dana Point at a palace this week but remains as out of touch with L.A. and clueless as it has been since the departure of the Rams and Raiders more than 14 years ago. Cities such as Cleveland, Baltimore and St. Louis had NFL teams, lost them and fought like crazy to get another. You live in one of those cities, and you need a good reason to shovel your way out of the driveway.
Around here, though, it’s as if the NFL is dead and buried, the five stages of death eventually leading to acceptance, which is where L.A. sits after experiencing denial, anger, bargaining and depression. In the beginning there was certainly denial, the Raiders and Rams pulling out and most everyone believing the NFL would be back the following year or shortly thereafter.
If you have read and enjoyed Simers before you may be disappointed in this column because it’s pretty straightforward and without T.J.’s normal take no prisoners in the sarcasm battle. What he says remains true: America’s second largest city and largest metropolitan area from Oxnard to Dana Point does not have an NFL team and could care less.
NFL officials this week at the league meetings said there was no reason to talk about Los Angeles and the NFL, because, well … there was nothing to talk about.
From the New York Times:
Tears were in Jim Boeheim’s eyes that night. “How can we ever top this?” he asked his wife, Juli. It was not the night in April 2003 when Boeheim coached Syracuse to a national championship. Of that occasion, Juli recalled this week: “I couldn’t wait to get my hands on him and hug him. I asked him, ‘How do you feel?’ He said, ‘Relieved. Let’s go home.’Â ”
The night Boeheim broke down was in April 2000, after Syracuse held its first “Basket Ball” gala to raise money for Coaches vs. Cancer. Juli had organized the event, Jim had put his name behind it, and they both had recruited nearly everyone they knew to buy seats and get involved. The Boeheims, novice party planners, were nervous about the turnout until about 650 people arrived and moved Jim to tears.
As No. 3 Syracuse faces No. 2 Oklahoma in the N.C.A.A. tournament on Friday night, Boeheim is on the verge of another major accomplishment: 800 career wins, a milestone that only seven Division I men’s basketball coaches have reached. For all that he has achieved as a coach, Boeheim has earned as much respect for his work on behalf of cancer charities
I can remember Final Four weekend in New Orleans in 1987. Strolling back towards my hotel with some fellow ink-stained wretches, we were weaving our way out of the French Quarter and back towards the hotels around the Superdome. On a dark, back street of New Orleans that would be safe only for a group of people together, we saw a solitary figure strolling towards us, a trench coat pulled up around his ears. It was two, three in the morning and here was Jim Boeheim, out walking the streets, trying to exhaust his body, because his mind was obviously racing at a thousand miles per hour. The next night, Boeheim’s Syracuse Orangemen lost to Indiana on Keith Smart’s late bucket, as Bob Knight won another national championship.
Back in those days Boeheim was a bit of a sour puss. His battle several years later with cancer changed his demeanor, or at least the face he provided the public and the media. There is a real sense of priorities in proper order now, and he’s out there trying to do what he can for the fight against cancer.
And I bet there aren’t any late night strolls anymore.
Al Davis needs to wake up and realize that he is the cause of his name and the Raider’s name being tarnished.
Sadly, it probably won’t be a sad day when undead Al meets his maker. I would guess that unless his equally undead (and ate up) brother is as deranged as Al is, the Raiders could start to flourish again.
Buck Buchanan is the man. Nuff said.