Post by TheShadow on Jun 6, 2008 4:44:05 GMT -5
www.realfootball365.com
by Os Davis
Cue John Facenda: The mystique of the Oakland Raiders, the NFL’s love-to-hate-‘em bad boys. The silver and black are feared wherever they visit, a dark force entering town not unlike that of Sith Lord and Raider Nation sartorial mentor Dark Vader capable of employing any number of questionable tactics in the quest for victory. While other NFL teams may be reviled from time to time for egotistical players or unsympathetic front-office figures, the Raiders remain the league’s antagonist whenever they play.
(Sound of scratching needle on record.)
Wait a minute, wait a minute: That stuff may have been true before and the Raiders may have carried “NFL bad guy” status for two decades after the molders of this image departed the gridiron, but this is the 2000s and a new black hat has ridden into town.
Surely no NFL team has been as hated throughout the sports world as the New England Patriots of the 2000s. Since Spygate certainly and for at least a few years now, the range of contempt felt for the Pats outside New England ranged from boredom to utter loathing at the team’s smooth play – often played off in the mainstream as boring, in fashion similar to that of the four-time champion San Antonio Spurs in the NBA.
Of course, Spygate brought about allegations of cheating, always the last straw for fair-thinking sports (and wrestling) fans. As the unlikable Bill Belchick got more airtime to defend his oh-so-politically correct official apology, PR matters worsened. The Patriots are fit to be collectively booed throughout 2008 to an extent greater than, well, than any team since those Raiders of the 1970s.
So can the legend of John Madden’s bad boys of the disco era hold up to today’s legend? RealFootball365.com breaks it down and keeps the score.
Coach. It all starts at the top. Two Hall of Fame head coaches, both reviled in their time by opponents, both colored by accusations of cheating. Though John Madden was certainly just as bad in his time – his red-faced antics were burned indelibly into the then-impressive young minds of the pre-EA Sports generation – the disadvantage of ever-mellowing time has softened the old boy into a lovable teddy bear of an “MNF” guy. Maybe someday Belichick will do TV advertising as well (for, say, Zyprexa), but until then ol’ Mumbly Bill is badder. Patriots 1, Raiders 0.
Coach’s quote. Madden: “Everybody says the Raiders cheat...OK, we cheat. So, what are you going to do about it?” Belichick: “My interpretation of a rule in the Constitution and Bylaws was incorrect.” Well, this one’s not even close. Raiders 1, Patriots 1.
Intestinal fortitude after questionable call. In the 1976 AFC divisional playoffs, the call against the Patriots was “roughing the passer, defense, automatic first down.” In the Snow Bowl, it was “after reviewing the play, the quarterback’s arm was going forward. It is an incomplete pass...” The next year, the Raiders came back and then some, earning a trip to the Super Bowl despite Jon Gruden’s departure. For the Patriots, it was just another loss in what was then not so much a test of history as The Book of Lamentations. The edge favors the silver and black here, for they enacted revenge for the Tuck Rule in 2002 by beating the Pats, 27-20, which was enough to keep New England out of the playoffs that year. Raiders 2, Patriots 1.
Baddest moment. After Chuck Noll referred to Jack Tatum and George Atkinson as the “criminal element” in 1976, Oakland went on to destroy the Steelers in the AFC championship, 24-7; Steeler receivers reportedly later complained of hard hits by the Raider secondary. Meanwhile, certain San Diego Chargers reckoned the 2006 Patriots weren’t so hot; the Bostoners were, however, cooler and even Raider backers probably begrudgingly enjoyed another Charger choke and the subsequent Patriot lightning-bolt stomp. Raiders 2, Patriots 2.
Unofficial team motto. “Just win, baby” is succinct and to the point, the sort of bumper-sticker credo team members get tattooed on their forearm, even if the Raiders haven’t, baby, since the '80s. New England Patriots Inc. preaches something about “tradition of excellence” (also touted by the Raiders and probably any other NFL franchise not ascribing to “Keep chopping wood”) and if you’ve watched enough Patriot pre- and post-game hype, you figure the Pats’ credo is something akin to “We’re just concentrating on next week. Team X is a difficult opponent. We’ve got a lot of work to do, etc.” Y’ever wonder why Republicans keep crushing Democrats in presidential elections? It’s the slogan, stupid! Raiders 3, Patriots 2.
(S***) Kicker. The 1970s Raiders boasted Ray Guy, the only punter with the right to enter Canton; surely, someday he will. Adam Vinatieri may miss Hall of Fame entry, but how many placekickers ever get the franchise tag? Plus, it says here that each of the bad-guy Patriots’ three Super Bowl wins was decided by the margin of ... a field goal. Nothing is badder than clutch play, not even nailing the ceiling in a Pro Bowl game. Sorry, Ray. Raiders 3, Patriots 3.
Cheerleaders. As though I could choose. All the ladies on both squads are bad, meaning they’re better. And if you reckon this category is in here just as a convenient excuse to ogle cheerbabe pics, well, I’ll deny it profusely. Going into the half, it’s all tied up Raiders 3, Patriots 3.
Relative success. In their baddest period, the Raiders were perpetually a threat to go through to the Super Bowl. Unlike, say, the Dallas Cowboys, however, Oakland only played in one throughout that decade. Five teams bettered one appearance in the '70s, and five teams matched or bettered one Super Bowl win in the decade. And no matter how you slice it, the Dark Side Patriots have at least two appearances and two wins. Even applying a few principles of revisionist history, no one outside of the greater St. Louis and Oakland areas was cheering for the Rams against the 17-point underdog Pats in Super Bowl XXXVI; New England, pre-Red Sox World Series victory, was still plucky Rocky Balboas. Even two years later, when the Patriots made it two of three, the populace generally hadn’t yet acknowledged the Pats’ surrender to the Sith Lords. In the final analysis, the Patriots were cast as black hats in at least two Super Bowls and won one. Patriots 4, Raiders 3.
Decade of success. Regardless of how much of a bummer Bush-led America has been, the 1970s gave us disco, prog rock and endless off-tackle runs. The dominant Patriots can kill you in a million ways, all of them badder and slicker than the opposition. And while a breath remains in this writer’s body (insert death wish here), nothing from the '70s will ever top anything from any other decade in a RF365 virtual battle. Patriots 5, Raiders 3.
Ownership. Robert Kraft is a successful millionaire/near-billionaire who most likely simply stepped over, crushed, or otherwise ruined the appropriate people, no differently than any other seriously hardcore megacapitalist like those running NFL franchises. (No, not you, citizens of Green Bay.) Al Davis, meanwhile, demanding hosting rights to at least a couple of Super Bowls, threatened to move his team, moved his team, moved his team back, threatened to sue the league for $1 billion ... in short, Uncle Al has done everything in his run as owner to terrorize league bigwigs except announce his franchise’s imminent jump to the USFL. It’s ironic that coaching in Oakland is Lane Kiffin, who seems like a nice guy. In terms of image, the Hooded One would make a perfect fit in California, eh? Meanwhile, this category’s a wash, even if we throw in this picture; upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/15/Bob_Kraft-George_Bush-Bill_Belichick.jpg talk about your Evil Empires, eh? Patriots 5, Raiders 4.
Quarterback. Tom Brady is a pretty boy; Kenny Stabler was a good old boy. Brady’s nickname is “Terrific”; Stabler’s “The Snake.” Brady probably tries to out-study Peyton Manning and watches 15 hours of game tape daily; Stabler was famously purported to favor studying the playbook by the light of the jukebox. Brady gets with smokin’ A-listers like Gisele Bundchen and Bridget Moynahan; Stabler ... well, there’s no answer to that one, honestly. But in a Hunter S. Thompson “Hell’s Angels” sort of scenario, you know whom you’d take to be badder in a pinch. Raiders 5, Patriots 5.
Fear factor. Let’s see, the '70s Raiders had guys like Jack Tatum, Pete Banaszak, Ted Hendricks, Willie Hall, Art Shell (version 1.0, as opposed to the competent coach of 2.0 or the zombie wannabe that was Art Shell 3.0), and Phil Villapiano. The present-day Pats have ... well, while dudes like Tedy Bruschi and Mike Vrabel may be able to out think and outmaneuver opponents, they kinda lack that “dark back alley” aspect. Raiders 6, Patriots 5.
Animated representation. Those underhanded Oakland Raiders of the '70s have been immortalized in the classic “The Simpsons” Super Bowl episode from 1992; proclaimeth Lisa Simpson, “I like the 49ers because they're pure of heart, Seattle because they've got something to prove, and the Raiders because they always cheat.” The Spygate Patriots got their zeitgeist moment in "South Park" season 12, when Belichick was used by “Mr. Cartmanez” as a life lesson: “White people get ahead because we – I mean they – cheat.” And the winner is ... yeah, as if I’d get in the middle of "The Simpsons" vs. "South Park” debate. Next thing you know, you’ll be asking me to take a stand on the whole “Star Wars" vs. "Star Trek” thing. (I’ll take “Doctor Who,” actually...) Raiders 6, Patriots 5.
Final evidence offered as proof. The bicentennial Raiders were pretty irked after the vicious 48-17 smoke job handed them by Steve Grogan and the old-school Patriots in Week 4, doubling remaining regular-season opponents’ score totals, 264-127, in 10 games. After squeaking by New England in the divisional round, Oakland crushed Terry Bradshaw’s dynastic Pittsburgh Steelers and crushed the Minnesota Vikings’ hearts again. But the 2007 Patriots? They ran up the score and loved it; Brady kept throwing bombs in fourth quarters with four-TD leads; hapless opponents were used as tackling dummies, contenders were for playoff tune up from about, what, Week 4? Surely will the Raider Nation argue that while the Raiders of the '70s were tough, they also had class; sorry, y’all, this one’s purely about being bad. Raiders 6, Patriots 6.
Now, seriously, did you expect an actual winner in this thing? After all, if RF365 were to crown an all-time great bad boy, we’d expect a digital beatdown from the “loser” in the contest. Which would naturally necessitate a rewrite with different outcome, which would receive abuse, which would lead to a rewrite ...
Sure, a tie may be like kissing your sister, but keeping all the teeth in your mouth is even better.
Congratulations to all the 1970s Raiders and 2000s Patriots: To us, you’re all bad.
by Os Davis
Cue John Facenda: The mystique of the Oakland Raiders, the NFL’s love-to-hate-‘em bad boys. The silver and black are feared wherever they visit, a dark force entering town not unlike that of Sith Lord and Raider Nation sartorial mentor Dark Vader capable of employing any number of questionable tactics in the quest for victory. While other NFL teams may be reviled from time to time for egotistical players or unsympathetic front-office figures, the Raiders remain the league’s antagonist whenever they play.
(Sound of scratching needle on record.)
Wait a minute, wait a minute: That stuff may have been true before and the Raiders may have carried “NFL bad guy” status for two decades after the molders of this image departed the gridiron, but this is the 2000s and a new black hat has ridden into town.
Surely no NFL team has been as hated throughout the sports world as the New England Patriots of the 2000s. Since Spygate certainly and for at least a few years now, the range of contempt felt for the Pats outside New England ranged from boredom to utter loathing at the team’s smooth play – often played off in the mainstream as boring, in fashion similar to that of the four-time champion San Antonio Spurs in the NBA.
Of course, Spygate brought about allegations of cheating, always the last straw for fair-thinking sports (and wrestling) fans. As the unlikable Bill Belchick got more airtime to defend his oh-so-politically correct official apology, PR matters worsened. The Patriots are fit to be collectively booed throughout 2008 to an extent greater than, well, than any team since those Raiders of the 1970s.
So can the legend of John Madden’s bad boys of the disco era hold up to today’s legend? RealFootball365.com breaks it down and keeps the score.
Coach. It all starts at the top. Two Hall of Fame head coaches, both reviled in their time by opponents, both colored by accusations of cheating. Though John Madden was certainly just as bad in his time – his red-faced antics were burned indelibly into the then-impressive young minds of the pre-EA Sports generation – the disadvantage of ever-mellowing time has softened the old boy into a lovable teddy bear of an “MNF” guy. Maybe someday Belichick will do TV advertising as well (for, say, Zyprexa), but until then ol’ Mumbly Bill is badder. Patriots 1, Raiders 0.
Coach’s quote. Madden: “Everybody says the Raiders cheat...OK, we cheat. So, what are you going to do about it?” Belichick: “My interpretation of a rule in the Constitution and Bylaws was incorrect.” Well, this one’s not even close. Raiders 1, Patriots 1.
Intestinal fortitude after questionable call. In the 1976 AFC divisional playoffs, the call against the Patriots was “roughing the passer, defense, automatic first down.” In the Snow Bowl, it was “after reviewing the play, the quarterback’s arm was going forward. It is an incomplete pass...” The next year, the Raiders came back and then some, earning a trip to the Super Bowl despite Jon Gruden’s departure. For the Patriots, it was just another loss in what was then not so much a test of history as The Book of Lamentations. The edge favors the silver and black here, for they enacted revenge for the Tuck Rule in 2002 by beating the Pats, 27-20, which was enough to keep New England out of the playoffs that year. Raiders 2, Patriots 1.
Baddest moment. After Chuck Noll referred to Jack Tatum and George Atkinson as the “criminal element” in 1976, Oakland went on to destroy the Steelers in the AFC championship, 24-7; Steeler receivers reportedly later complained of hard hits by the Raider secondary. Meanwhile, certain San Diego Chargers reckoned the 2006 Patriots weren’t so hot; the Bostoners were, however, cooler and even Raider backers probably begrudgingly enjoyed another Charger choke and the subsequent Patriot lightning-bolt stomp. Raiders 2, Patriots 2.
Unofficial team motto. “Just win, baby” is succinct and to the point, the sort of bumper-sticker credo team members get tattooed on their forearm, even if the Raiders haven’t, baby, since the '80s. New England Patriots Inc. preaches something about “tradition of excellence” (also touted by the Raiders and probably any other NFL franchise not ascribing to “Keep chopping wood”) and if you’ve watched enough Patriot pre- and post-game hype, you figure the Pats’ credo is something akin to “We’re just concentrating on next week. Team X is a difficult opponent. We’ve got a lot of work to do, etc.” Y’ever wonder why Republicans keep crushing Democrats in presidential elections? It’s the slogan, stupid! Raiders 3, Patriots 2.
(S***) Kicker. The 1970s Raiders boasted Ray Guy, the only punter with the right to enter Canton; surely, someday he will. Adam Vinatieri may miss Hall of Fame entry, but how many placekickers ever get the franchise tag? Plus, it says here that each of the bad-guy Patriots’ three Super Bowl wins was decided by the margin of ... a field goal. Nothing is badder than clutch play, not even nailing the ceiling in a Pro Bowl game. Sorry, Ray. Raiders 3, Patriots 3.
Cheerleaders. As though I could choose. All the ladies on both squads are bad, meaning they’re better. And if you reckon this category is in here just as a convenient excuse to ogle cheerbabe pics, well, I’ll deny it profusely. Going into the half, it’s all tied up Raiders 3, Patriots 3.
Relative success. In their baddest period, the Raiders were perpetually a threat to go through to the Super Bowl. Unlike, say, the Dallas Cowboys, however, Oakland only played in one throughout that decade. Five teams bettered one appearance in the '70s, and five teams matched or bettered one Super Bowl win in the decade. And no matter how you slice it, the Dark Side Patriots have at least two appearances and two wins. Even applying a few principles of revisionist history, no one outside of the greater St. Louis and Oakland areas was cheering for the Rams against the 17-point underdog Pats in Super Bowl XXXVI; New England, pre-Red Sox World Series victory, was still plucky Rocky Balboas. Even two years later, when the Patriots made it two of three, the populace generally hadn’t yet acknowledged the Pats’ surrender to the Sith Lords. In the final analysis, the Patriots were cast as black hats in at least two Super Bowls and won one. Patriots 4, Raiders 3.
Decade of success. Regardless of how much of a bummer Bush-led America has been, the 1970s gave us disco, prog rock and endless off-tackle runs. The dominant Patriots can kill you in a million ways, all of them badder and slicker than the opposition. And while a breath remains in this writer’s body (insert death wish here), nothing from the '70s will ever top anything from any other decade in a RF365 virtual battle. Patriots 5, Raiders 3.
Ownership. Robert Kraft is a successful millionaire/near-billionaire who most likely simply stepped over, crushed, or otherwise ruined the appropriate people, no differently than any other seriously hardcore megacapitalist like those running NFL franchises. (No, not you, citizens of Green Bay.) Al Davis, meanwhile, demanding hosting rights to at least a couple of Super Bowls, threatened to move his team, moved his team, moved his team back, threatened to sue the league for $1 billion ... in short, Uncle Al has done everything in his run as owner to terrorize league bigwigs except announce his franchise’s imminent jump to the USFL. It’s ironic that coaching in Oakland is Lane Kiffin, who seems like a nice guy. In terms of image, the Hooded One would make a perfect fit in California, eh? Meanwhile, this category’s a wash, even if we throw in this picture; upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/15/Bob_Kraft-George_Bush-Bill_Belichick.jpg talk about your Evil Empires, eh? Patriots 5, Raiders 4.
Quarterback. Tom Brady is a pretty boy; Kenny Stabler was a good old boy. Brady’s nickname is “Terrific”; Stabler’s “The Snake.” Brady probably tries to out-study Peyton Manning and watches 15 hours of game tape daily; Stabler was famously purported to favor studying the playbook by the light of the jukebox. Brady gets with smokin’ A-listers like Gisele Bundchen and Bridget Moynahan; Stabler ... well, there’s no answer to that one, honestly. But in a Hunter S. Thompson “Hell’s Angels” sort of scenario, you know whom you’d take to be badder in a pinch. Raiders 5, Patriots 5.
Fear factor. Let’s see, the '70s Raiders had guys like Jack Tatum, Pete Banaszak, Ted Hendricks, Willie Hall, Art Shell (version 1.0, as opposed to the competent coach of 2.0 or the zombie wannabe that was Art Shell 3.0), and Phil Villapiano. The present-day Pats have ... well, while dudes like Tedy Bruschi and Mike Vrabel may be able to out think and outmaneuver opponents, they kinda lack that “dark back alley” aspect. Raiders 6, Patriots 5.
Animated representation. Those underhanded Oakland Raiders of the '70s have been immortalized in the classic “The Simpsons” Super Bowl episode from 1992; proclaimeth Lisa Simpson, “I like the 49ers because they're pure of heart, Seattle because they've got something to prove, and the Raiders because they always cheat.” The Spygate Patriots got their zeitgeist moment in "South Park" season 12, when Belichick was used by “Mr. Cartmanez” as a life lesson: “White people get ahead because we – I mean they – cheat.” And the winner is ... yeah, as if I’d get in the middle of "The Simpsons" vs. "South Park” debate. Next thing you know, you’ll be asking me to take a stand on the whole “Star Wars" vs. "Star Trek” thing. (I’ll take “Doctor Who,” actually...) Raiders 6, Patriots 5.
Final evidence offered as proof. The bicentennial Raiders were pretty irked after the vicious 48-17 smoke job handed them by Steve Grogan and the old-school Patriots in Week 4, doubling remaining regular-season opponents’ score totals, 264-127, in 10 games. After squeaking by New England in the divisional round, Oakland crushed Terry Bradshaw’s dynastic Pittsburgh Steelers and crushed the Minnesota Vikings’ hearts again. But the 2007 Patriots? They ran up the score and loved it; Brady kept throwing bombs in fourth quarters with four-TD leads; hapless opponents were used as tackling dummies, contenders were for playoff tune up from about, what, Week 4? Surely will the Raider Nation argue that while the Raiders of the '70s were tough, they also had class; sorry, y’all, this one’s purely about being bad. Raiders 6, Patriots 6.
Now, seriously, did you expect an actual winner in this thing? After all, if RF365 were to crown an all-time great bad boy, we’d expect a digital beatdown from the “loser” in the contest. Which would naturally necessitate a rewrite with different outcome, which would receive abuse, which would lead to a rewrite ...
Sure, a tie may be like kissing your sister, but keeping all the teeth in your mouth is even better.
Congratulations to all the 1970s Raiders and 2000s Patriots: To us, you’re all bad.