Post by TheShadow on Nov 30, 2003 12:45:07 GMT -5
www.oaklandtribune.com
by Monte Poole
THE OWNER IS 74 years old, cranky as ever. The team is caught between
today's unrest and tomorrow's uncertainty. The fans crave the change so
transparently inevitable.
The head coach could get fired. The defensive coordinator probably will get
whacked. The offensive coordinator is likely to go.
The special teams coach? Well, the heat is so intense his gut catches fire
every time his phone rings.
The overhaul of the Raiders is less than a month away, and even though we
all know it's coming the only thing we know for sure is the three truly
significant questions will be answered by the same authority.
We refer to Al Davis, overlord, cool breeze and last broad line of
accountability for the franchise.
The problem with projecting here is not so much Al's unpredictability but
the inability to decipher how Al believes the blame should be distributed.
Al is a football man. He can talk rings around other owners and general
managers, match wits with the game's finest coaches and turn anyone to stone
with a chilling squint.
As he strokes his ring and cranks up his brain for the final four weeks,
there are three questions that will influence his decision-making.
How much of the team's collapse is his fault?
How much of the team's collapse will he accept as being his fault?
How acute is his sense of urgency?
We'll respond to these questions in the order posed.
For all the heat placed on head coach Bill Callahan, much of it deserved, it
was Al and his lieutenant, Bruce Allen, who assembled this roster -- with
the hope it had one last good run before turning completely gray.
While their plan to rewind the 2002 AFC champion was not irrational, they
had to know it had substantial risks.
Older players tend to spend a lot of time in the trainer's room or in rehab,
which explains the inconsistent activity of John Parrella (34), Dana
Stubblefield (33), Lincoln Kennedy (32) and Charlie Garner (31).
At worst, older players all too often find themselves in street clothes,
staring at the end of their careers. In the past six weeks alone, the
Raiders have lost nine players to injured reserve, including Rod Woodson
(38), Trace Armstrong (38), Rich Gannon (37) and Bill Romanowski (37).
Al and Bruce gambled that this wouldn't happen. It did. It happened to some
young players, too, (Jerry Porter early, Marques Tuiasosopo late). But the
direction of the Raiders was to be dictated by the veterans. Al and Bruce
have to "man up" and accept responsibility for the calamity.
Whether they will is an entirely different matter, especially in the case of
Al, who would rather french-kiss Carmen Policy than admit he is wrong.
Which brings us to the second question.
The owner is, as we all know, a part-time assistant coach. He likes to
tinker, to get involved in game plans, to express his opinions about
schemes.
Which is why it's almost impossible to know how much blame goes to Al and
how much goes to defensive coordinator Chuck Bresnahan or, to a lesser
degree, offensive coordinator Marc Trestman.
The Raider Nation is all over Bresnahan, blaming him for the unit's failures
against the run and pressuring the quarterback -- the two essential
components of a strong defense.
Is it Chuck or Al who can't devise a scheme to pressure the quarterback? Is
it Chuck or Al calling for a blitz on fourth-and-12 with the game on the
line? Is it Chuck or Al who insists on playing Derrick Gibson?
Was it Chuck or Al who let stumpy fullback Cory Schlesinger get behind
Phillip Buchanon in Detroit?
The fact is, we don't know. We imagine some of Chuck's calls are made to
cover his backside, knowing he'll be second-guessed by the Big Guy.
On the other hand, history tells us Al can be a big man.
Barely a month into the 1997 season, he realized his goof in hiring Joe
Bugel. Al trusted his players, who campaigned for Uncle Joe. When it didn't
work, he blamed himself for listening.
In an attempt to redeem himself, Al hired Jon Gruden, the man he wanted all
along. Hiring someone so headstrong and independent -- a coach with lots of
ideas and strong opinions -- was a rare example of Al acknowledging his
desperation.
Which brings to the third question: How desperate is Al to fix it
immediately?
Al's sense of urgency is as acute as it has ever been. He might live to be
130 years old, but because he can't assume this and can't control it, he's
not buying into any three-year plans.
Or, for that matter, two-year plans.
No, Al believes today's NFL allows each year to stand alone. He is
convinced, with justification, that the 5-11 team that makes smart personnel
decisions and gets a little luck can be 11-5 a year later.
He knows Philadelphia did exactly that between 1999 and 2002, knows New
England copied that formula between 2000 and 2001, knows Indianapolis
flipped from 6-10 in 2001 to 10-6 in'02.
And don't think he hasn't noticed how far Kansas City and Carolina have come
since last season.
So expect Al to seek a shortcut and go hard in 2004. There will be lots of
new faces next year and they will be expected to perform.
Meanwhile, five games remain as final auditions for Callahan, his assistants
and the players who have not decided to go elsewhere or retire.
First up, today, is Denver, the team Al hates above all others.
There are no postseason ramifications for the Raiders. They are done. There
are, however, the all-important brownie points earned from beating Mike
Shanahan and the Broncos in a game that matters only to them.
Which is to say this game matters a great deal to Al, even as he strokes his
ring and looks ahead, realizing it's way too late to repair the plans he had
for this season.
by Monte Poole
THE OWNER IS 74 years old, cranky as ever. The team is caught between
today's unrest and tomorrow's uncertainty. The fans crave the change so
transparently inevitable.
The head coach could get fired. The defensive coordinator probably will get
whacked. The offensive coordinator is likely to go.
The special teams coach? Well, the heat is so intense his gut catches fire
every time his phone rings.
The overhaul of the Raiders is less than a month away, and even though we
all know it's coming the only thing we know for sure is the three truly
significant questions will be answered by the same authority.
We refer to Al Davis, overlord, cool breeze and last broad line of
accountability for the franchise.
The problem with projecting here is not so much Al's unpredictability but
the inability to decipher how Al believes the blame should be distributed.
Al is a football man. He can talk rings around other owners and general
managers, match wits with the game's finest coaches and turn anyone to stone
with a chilling squint.
As he strokes his ring and cranks up his brain for the final four weeks,
there are three questions that will influence his decision-making.
How much of the team's collapse is his fault?
How much of the team's collapse will he accept as being his fault?
How acute is his sense of urgency?
We'll respond to these questions in the order posed.
For all the heat placed on head coach Bill Callahan, much of it deserved, it
was Al and his lieutenant, Bruce Allen, who assembled this roster -- with
the hope it had one last good run before turning completely gray.
While their plan to rewind the 2002 AFC champion was not irrational, they
had to know it had substantial risks.
Older players tend to spend a lot of time in the trainer's room or in rehab,
which explains the inconsistent activity of John Parrella (34), Dana
Stubblefield (33), Lincoln Kennedy (32) and Charlie Garner (31).
At worst, older players all too often find themselves in street clothes,
staring at the end of their careers. In the past six weeks alone, the
Raiders have lost nine players to injured reserve, including Rod Woodson
(38), Trace Armstrong (38), Rich Gannon (37) and Bill Romanowski (37).
Al and Bruce gambled that this wouldn't happen. It did. It happened to some
young players, too, (Jerry Porter early, Marques Tuiasosopo late). But the
direction of the Raiders was to be dictated by the veterans. Al and Bruce
have to "man up" and accept responsibility for the calamity.
Whether they will is an entirely different matter, especially in the case of
Al, who would rather french-kiss Carmen Policy than admit he is wrong.
Which brings us to the second question.
The owner is, as we all know, a part-time assistant coach. He likes to
tinker, to get involved in game plans, to express his opinions about
schemes.
Which is why it's almost impossible to know how much blame goes to Al and
how much goes to defensive coordinator Chuck Bresnahan or, to a lesser
degree, offensive coordinator Marc Trestman.
The Raider Nation is all over Bresnahan, blaming him for the unit's failures
against the run and pressuring the quarterback -- the two essential
components of a strong defense.
Is it Chuck or Al who can't devise a scheme to pressure the quarterback? Is
it Chuck or Al calling for a blitz on fourth-and-12 with the game on the
line? Is it Chuck or Al who insists on playing Derrick Gibson?
Was it Chuck or Al who let stumpy fullback Cory Schlesinger get behind
Phillip Buchanon in Detroit?
The fact is, we don't know. We imagine some of Chuck's calls are made to
cover his backside, knowing he'll be second-guessed by the Big Guy.
On the other hand, history tells us Al can be a big man.
Barely a month into the 1997 season, he realized his goof in hiring Joe
Bugel. Al trusted his players, who campaigned for Uncle Joe. When it didn't
work, he blamed himself for listening.
In an attempt to redeem himself, Al hired Jon Gruden, the man he wanted all
along. Hiring someone so headstrong and independent -- a coach with lots of
ideas and strong opinions -- was a rare example of Al acknowledging his
desperation.
Which brings to the third question: How desperate is Al to fix it
immediately?
Al's sense of urgency is as acute as it has ever been. He might live to be
130 years old, but because he can't assume this and can't control it, he's
not buying into any three-year plans.
Or, for that matter, two-year plans.
No, Al believes today's NFL allows each year to stand alone. He is
convinced, with justification, that the 5-11 team that makes smart personnel
decisions and gets a little luck can be 11-5 a year later.
He knows Philadelphia did exactly that between 1999 and 2002, knows New
England copied that formula between 2000 and 2001, knows Indianapolis
flipped from 6-10 in 2001 to 10-6 in'02.
And don't think he hasn't noticed how far Kansas City and Carolina have come
since last season.
So expect Al to seek a shortcut and go hard in 2004. There will be lots of
new faces next year and they will be expected to perform.
Meanwhile, five games remain as final auditions for Callahan, his assistants
and the players who have not decided to go elsewhere or retire.
First up, today, is Denver, the team Al hates above all others.
There are no postseason ramifications for the Raiders. They are done. There
are, however, the all-important brownie points earned from beating Mike
Shanahan and the Broncos in a game that matters only to them.
Which is to say this game matters a great deal to Al, even as he strokes his
ring and looks ahead, realizing it's way too late to repair the plans he had
for this season.