Post by TheShadow on Feb 2, 2007 18:19:55 GMT -5
www.contracostatimes.com
GARY PETERSON: TIMES COLUMNIST
Fred Biletnikoff quietly walked away from professional football Wednesday. It would have been more fitting had he faked to the inside, darted to the outside, cradled a pass in his supple hands and touched the toes of both feet softly inside the boundary on his way out the door.
You may have seen Biletnikoff on the Raiders sideline -- he was an assistant under six different head coaches the past 18 years. But you may not have seen him during his days as the NFL's most sure-handed and reliable receiver. Or if you did, you probably saw the clip from Super Bowl XI, the one where he catches a quick slant, turns it upfield and runs for a 48-yard gain before being caught from behind.
In which case, you still haven't seen the real Biletnikoff. No disrespect intended.
You missed something special, starting with his game-day get-up. From the toes up, he was a Raiders original. Big yellowish gobs of stick-um on the insides of his white socks. Skin-tight silver pants that barely reached the knee. Thigh pads? Those were for sissies.
White tape from his wrists to his elbows. A jersey sliced at the neck and on the underside of both sleeves, to allow for maximum range of movement. Stringy hair hanging out the back of his helmet. Strips of black beneath his unblinking eyes.
Take it from someone who was there, the Raiders were an appealing band of marauders during the NFL's age of conformity. To look at Biletnikoff from the Coliseum's old east-side bleachers was to think, "If he can be one of them, so could I. I'm white, I'm slow, I have pretty good hands and I'd have long hair if my dad let me."
Biletnikoff was Caucasian, there's no getting around that. But he was far from slow. In fact, he was better than fast -- he was quick and crafty. He ran pass routes with the precision of a diamond-cutter's saw. He had "Dancing With the Stars"-quality feet. His hands were miles beyond pretty good.
He needed those attributes, because he played in the day when defensive backs could maul receivers without sanction. His first game as a Raider was against a Kansas City Chiefs team that featured Fred (The Hammer) Williamson. The Hammer's signature move was to violently impact your neck with his forearm. This was a legal maneuver in 1965.
Biletnikoff was a football Baryshnikov, tip-toeing his way through a minefield of mayhem and violence. While he got deep more than a few times early in his career -- he averaged 21.9 yards per catch in 1967 -- he eventually found his niche as the ultimate possession receiver.
He was more a stop, drop and roll artist than a yards after catch guy. Which is why the video of his 48-yard Super Bowl catch-and-run, while impressive, is misleading. More typical of his genius was a soft-handed catch from inside a maelstrom of flailing arms and ill intentions. Or a hopping catch on his way out of bounds, just beyond the first down marker.
A personal favorite: Coming off his break toward the sideline in the end zone, Biletnikoff finds the defensive back and the ball on him at the same time. The three collide. The ball deflects into the air. The defensive back puts a bear hug on Biletnikoff, who works one arm free, reaches across the sideline, one-hands the ball and clutches it to his side for a touchdown. The whole sequence takes about two seconds.
His numbers -- 589 catches, 8,974 yards, 76 touchdowns -- pale compared to today's PlayStation stats. Rest assured they were stellar for a time when even the Raiders ran to set up the pass, and -- one more time, for emphasis -- receivers were not allowed to bound free through the secondary, protected like some endangered species. Stellar enough that he was voted to the Hall of Fame, named MVP of Super Bowl XI and honored by an award in his name given annually to the best receiver in college football.
Biletnikoff was stylish and sticky, gritty and smooth. He was a loyal Raider to the end, praising incoming coach Lane Kiffin on his way out the door. Yet his football legacy has become marginalized by the new-age obsession with the passing game and a generation of histrionic receivers.
He seems at peace with that. In a quote on traceybiletnikoff.com -- the Web site for the nonprofit organization named for his slain daughter -- Biletnikoff discusses his approach to coaching:
"I don't like to bring up the past. That was then and this is now. But I want (current Raiders receivers) to have my same work ethics."
You wonder, then, how it must have felt for him to watch the likes of Randy Moss loafing through game after game the past couple years. It sure enough galled those of us with roots in the east-side bleachers. But then, we were spoiled, once upon a time.