We interrupt this regularly scheduled column to bring you an exclusive look at a letter sent from the late Raiders owner Al Davis to his son Mark, in regards to breaking news that The Greatness of the Raiders and Chargers wish to build a timeshare stadium in Carson.
Let’s read …
Dear Mark (pronounced MAH-k),
It’s me, your father, Mr. Davis, as you were affectionately required to call me. While lying here in my final resting place, I realized this week was the NFL Combine in Indianapolis — you know, Indy always wanted to be a Raider — so I thought I would tune into ESPN and see what their “false rumor mongerers” had to say.
Never miss a local story.
Little did I know, I would soon be rolling over in my mausoleum.
I was expecting to see you in the RCA Dome, personally signing the largest quarterback and the fastest sprinter to obscene contracts that will hogtie my Raiders’ salary-cap space from now until your children’s children inherited this great franchise.
Instead, what scrolls across my screen?
You want to build a stadium in Carson and move my team back to the City of Angels, one legal brief at a time. Tears came to my eyes as I said, “That’s my boy! Stick it Rozelle, baby!”
But then, oh, the horror, the likes unexperienced since the Tuck Rule non-fumble.
That blasted Adam Schefter went on to say you want to share it with the San Diego Chargers. Share it? Chargers? Excuse me, while I puke on my white jumpsuit.
Who does the media think they’re kidding? As if my son would even consider shacking up with our archrivals in the AFC West. I am the Raiders, and I share the territorial rights to my living room with no one, is that understood?
The Chargers. I must admit, I have fond memories of my time with them when there in Los Angeles back in the early 1960s. That is where I got my professional coaching start under Sid Gilmore, inventing his offense for him and winning two straight division titles in the American Football League. But then the Chargers went to San Diego and I went to Oakland, never to be reunited again.
My Raiders have won three Super Bowls. They have won none. Our in-house propaganda film is titled, “Commitment to Excellence.” Theirs is “Lord of No Rings.”
Do these media dogs really think my son would share a 70,000-seat condo with the Chargers? What, the Donkeys up in Denver couldn’t pass a credit check to move in, too? Why not just let Marty Schottenheimer and those Chiefs sleep on the couch while we’re at this blasphemous nonsense?
No, Mark, I have the fullest confidence that you would never consider such a thing. If I didn’t trust your judgment, why else would I have let you run this proud franchise that I refused to cede control of until my dying breath, knowing all along my only ownership succession plan began and ended with me never actually dying?
What are they going to try to tell me next … that you invited Marcus Allen back to The Coliseum to light a torch in my memory? That you’re buddy-buddy with Jon Gruden again? You may as well tell me you recently interviewed Mike Shanahan (pronounced Shana-Rat) for our head-coaching opening!
Good thing you still have CEO Amy Trask around; she’ll get this all straightened out. We’ll just fire up the overhead projector and have us a press conference detailing how this all Lance Kiffin’s fault.
And go ahead and throw Rozelle under the bus, too, just for old time’s sake.
Thank you, son. Give my love to JaMarcus.