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Al Davis
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Age hasn’t mellowed Al Davis. At 71, he still lives for confrontation, and if
somebody else won’t provide it, well, Al is more than willing.
His latest outburst came after a report leaked that Carmen Policy, now part-owner and
president of the Browns, could pay a $500,000 fine because of accusations he violated the
salary cap when he ran the 49ers.
Davis said Policy should be expelled from the NFL for several years before being
allowed to petition for reinstatement. Policy’s alleged violations of the cap were
more serious than gambling, Davis claimed.
Well, the first thing I would do is ask those involved in team management who have not
violated the salary cap to please raise their hands. C’mon, gentlemen, I can’t
see your hands.
Anybody familiar with the NFL knows that its crack team of investigators depends
entirely on somebody ratting on the violator. In this case, Policy and the 49ers were
turned in by John York, husband of 49ers owner Denise DeBartolo York. York’s intent
was to embarrass his brother-in-law, Eddie DeBartolo, but Eddie has long since left the
picture, selling his interest to his sister.
Davis’ claim that the 49ers and Broncos wouldn’t have gotten to the Super
Bowl without violating the cap sounds like sour grapes to anybody outside the
Raiders’ building. The Raiders last made it to the Super Bowl after the 1983 season.
Davis still forces his employees to call the Raiders "The Team of the Decades,"
but they seem to have skipped the ’90s.
(Davis’ slogans are a source of continual amusement in the San Francisco Bay Area.
The back of the Raiders’ media guide this year proclaims that, "The greatness of
the Raiders will continue in its future." Sounds like it was translated from
Ukrainian.)
The blood feud between Policy and Davis is worth noting. Policy is a man who can get
along with anybody — anybody except Davis. Their feud started when the Raiders were
in Los Angeles and Davis had exhibition games telecast back into the Bay Area.
Which brings us to another Davis confrontation: He is suing the league, claiming that
the NFL blocked a possible deal with Hollywood Park that would have kept the Raiders in
Los Angeles. That’s only 180 degrees from the truth. When he was with the 49ers,
Policy worked hard on the Hollywood Park deal because he wanted to keep the Raiders in Los
Angeles. He didn’t want another NFL team in the Bay Area, and he especially
didn’t want Davis just across the bay. Policy was confident the deal could be made.
Then Davis decided to return to Oakland and made a deal with the city and Alameda
County to add seats and luxury boxes to the remodeled Coliseum.
Policy was livid, stalking out of the Chicago meeting in which a vote on the
Raiders’ move was taken. He felt it was personal, that Davis had made the deal with
Oakland to spite him. He was probably right. For Davis to now claim that the NFL conspired
to stop his team from playing at Hollywood Park requires extreme chutzpah, but the man has
never lacked that.
Davis’ L.A. suit has spawned speculation that he wants to go back there. I
don’t think so. There’s certainly no great outcry from L.A. fans for the Raiders
to return. I think Davis’ motivation is to squeeze money out of the NFL in a
settlement. He’s the only NFL owner who views lawsuits as a revenue source.
But the lawsuit has made fans in Oakland uneasy, with some justification. There are
several reasons for the Raiders’ problems in selling tickets since their return
— a miserable marketing program, an often-disappointing team — but the fact that
fans can’t depend on the Raiders staying is paramount.
Meanwhile, Davis is also suing the city and county, claiming that he was verbally
promised sellouts that have not materialized. The original suit asked for the lease to be
abrogated, but the judge threw out that section, though he has allowed the Raiders to go
ahead with the damages part of the suit. It’s now been delayed until January.
The Raiders like to say they didn’t start this suit. Technically, that’s
true, but they provoked it. The city and county had sold naming rights to the Coliseum, of
which the Raiders already had a share. When the Raiders said they wouldn’t agree
unless they got a bigger share, the deal fell apart — and the city and county sued.
The Raiders then sued back. Take that.
The sad part of this is that, except for Davis, the Raiders have their act together for
the first time since … well, maybe ever.
Amy Trask, the chief operating officer for the team (Davis’ only redeeming quality
is that he has never discriminated on the basis of race or sex) has done a remarkable job
of humanizing the team, reaching out to the media in a way the Raiders never have. Bruce
Allen, the chief personnel man, is friendly and approachable; we even exchange humorous
e-mails.
On the field, head coach Jon Gruden has turned the Raiders from a perennially
underachieving team into one which could win the AFC West and may go deep into the
postseason. The Super Bowl is not an unreachable goal.
Gruden has put in an offensive system that is quite different from Davis’
bombs-away style. To his credit, Davis has allowed that. He keeps a close watch on the
operation, but Gruden is clearly the man in charge.
Maybe that’s the problem. Writers and commentators now discuss the Raiders without
mentioning Davis. So Al is getting his publicity in other ways. The courtroom is now
Davis’ playing field. Sad.
Glenn Dickey is a columnist for The San Francisco Chronicle and has covered pro
football since 1967. He can be reached via e-mail at dickey@sfgate.com |
