Post by TheShadow on Apr 2, 2006 12:16:01 GMT -5
www.caller.com
By CLAY LATIMER
The Oakland Raiders have been called dreadful things for 40 years, and
generally they have lived up to them.
But under coach Jon Gruden their skull-and-crossbones image was seriously
tarnished by repentant renegades such as guard Steve Wisniewski, who started
coaching a children's soccer team in his free hours, and tackle Lincoln
Kennedy, who once danced in The Nutcracker.
So old-timers must have cracked sly smiles when a group of NFL officials
arrived at the Raiders training camp one summer to speak to the team about
rules changes for that upcoming season.
One by one, 70 players walked out as the presentation started, a symbolic
protest of a referee's decision during Oakland's controversial playoff loss
to New England.
When Gruden left to coach the Tampa Bay Buccaneers in the 2001, the
New Raiders' image went with him, replaced by a familiar "Us Against Them"
mentality. In fact the club hopes to tap
into their wild roots, established by Al Davis, the godfather of football's
ultimate gothic circus.
"He makes Darth Vader look like a punk," author Hunter S. Thompson said.
The Raiders, though, have a long way to go if they hope to duplicate the
1960s, '70s and '80s, when a freewheeling cast of menacing oddballs and
goofy misfits unnerved the NFL with boozy escapades, dirty tricks and
bizarre bacchanals.
"The pirate thing, the colors, the black, the image they portrayed, the way
they bent the rules, the cheap shots, hitting after a play was over, the
win-at-all costs, jolly, happy-go-lucky approach - it all just came together
for the Raiders," said Louis Wright, a Pro Bowl cornerback for the Denver
Broncos in the 1970s and '80s.
The symbolic face of the old Raiders was Otis Sistrunk, a savage pass rusher
and run stopper on a defensive unit that terrorized the AFC in the '70s.
During a Monday night game, as a camera panned the bench area, Sistrunk was
sweating so profusely on a cool night that steam was rising from his shaved
head, creating an alien-like ambience. "There's Otis Sistrunk, from . . .
the University of Mars," analyst Alex Karras said.
Sistrunk had plenty of intriguing company.
- Fullback Marv Hubbard prided himself on being able to punch a plate glass
window and pull his hand back before the glass cut him.
- Guard George Buehler prepared for a showdown with the San Diego Chargers
by knocking around a red Coke machine during the week.
- Wide receiver Fred Biletnikoff was able to fall into a deep sleep in team
meetings with his eyes wide open.
- Defensive end Art Thoms carried his personal gear in a Mickey Mouse lunch
box.
- Tackle Bob Brown carried a dumbbell to lunch and did curls with one hand
while he ate, then switched his fork and dumbbell to the other hands and
continued his program.
- In the mid-1970s, the unusual defensive secondary featured left cornerback
Skip Thomas, nicknamed "Dr. Death"; free safety Jack Tatum, called "The
Assassin"; and right cornerback Willie Brown, whose job, according to Ken
Stabler in his book "Snake," was simple: "He kept the others from killing."
But Tatum and Co. were no match for a couple of teammates. "The Raiders
played on their image," Wright said.
"But you start talking about John Matuszak and Ted Hendricks, well, I think
those guys really were out there - seriously out there. They would have been
way out there with any team."
JOHN MATUSZAK
A 6-foot-7, 270-pound defensive lineman who played for the Raiders from
1976-82, "The Tooz" intimidated opponents with his size alone. But the fear
factor didn't end there. "He was a lunatic," Wright said.
At the University of Missouri, Matuszak punched and nearly killed a man he
thought was involved with his girlfriend, then transferred to Tampa, where
he posed in a centerfold-type photo, covered only by a towel, for a local
magazine.
The Houston Oilers picked Matuszak first in the 1973 draft, but Matuszak
left the team because he hated head coach Sid Gillman.
With the Kansas City Chiefs, he was arrested for marijuana possession in
1974, and nearly overdosed on booze and sleeping pills. His wife also tried
to run him over in a car.
In 1976, the Washington Redskins cut Matuszak in preseason; asked why, coach
George Allen said, "Vodka and Valium, the breakfast of champions."
Matuszak made an indelible impression on the Raiders. After the rest of the
team had taken the field, the hulking defender suddenly came sprinting into
view, screaming at a piercing pitch. Davis wasn't amused.
"I wonder if John's worth the gamble?" he said to Hendricks, who was
standing nearby.
Answered Hendricks: "Al, what difference will one more make?"
Days before Super Bowl XV was played in New Orleans, where the Raiders went
on to beat the Philadelphia Eagles 27-10, Matuszak announced: "I'm going to
see that there's no funny business. I've had enough parties for 20 people's
lifetimes. I've grown up. I'll keep our young fellows out of trouble. If any
players want to stray, they gotta go through Ol' Tooz."
The next night, Matuszak was out partying until at least 3 a.m. and was hit
with a $1,000 fine.
TED HENDRICKS
Called "The Mad Stork" because he was 6-foot-7 and skinny - and known for
aberrant behavior - Hendricks had a knack for being in the right place at
the right time.
Hendricks, who played for Oakland from 1975-83, blocked 25 field-goal or
extra-point attempts during his 15-year career, recovered 16 fumbles,
intercepted 26 passes, recorded four safeties and scored three touchdowns on
turnovers.
He never missed a game, playing in 215 consecutive contests. In his final
season, he suffered from such severe abdominal muscle pulls that he had to
roll out of bed sideways and lay on the floor while he dressed.
"Ted would come into the huddle after his forays and he'd be smiling with
purple teeth and a purple tongue from the red wine," remembered former
linebacker Phil Villapiano.
In 1976, Hendricks missed a Raiders bed check one night, so the next morning
Madden was ready to slap him with a $500 fine. "Where were you last night?"
Madden asked, expecting anything but the truth. Instead, Hendricks said, "I
went out with (Marv) Hubbard . . . He got cut yesterday. It was his last
night before he went home; it was his last night as a pro. I just decided to
go out with him and celebrate."
After a pause, mindful of Hubbard's many contributions over the years,
Madden said: "I would have done the same thing. No fine."
KEN STABLER
The last of a breed - the devil-may-care field general who called his own
plays - Stabler was a steadying influence for the Raiders' band of misfits.
Another QB might have blown his cool over the unruliness.
Stabler guided the Raiders to five division titles and a 32-14 victory
against the Minnesota Vikings in Super Bowl XI.
"Stabler was a master," Wright said. "He was so cool at the line of
scrimmage. He'd wink at you, talk to you. He was just having a ball. He'd
get knocked on his butt and get up and make you think he'd just arrived at
the picnic."
Stabler's tenure with the Raiders (1970-79) ended on a troublesome note when
Davis blamed him for the team's mediocre season. The pair feuded in the
press for months; asked if he was prepared to bury the hatchet with Davis,
Stabler said, "I'd like to bury the hatchet - right in his neck."