Pride and Polarity: Al Davis' Life and Legacy in Pro Football

There were plenty of reasons to admire, and abhor, Al Davis.

When a legend passes away, a prolonged public eulogy occurs where we extol the person's virtues and minimize their flaws (see: Jackson, Michael).  But for Al Davis, it's impossible to mention his contributions to football without also noting his failures.  Look back at Davis' 57 years in the NFL, and you'll see a polarizing figure who was generous to his friends and vindictive to his enemies.  With the good, came plenty of bad.

Davis was first hired as a head coach in 1963 by F. Wayne Valley, founder of the Raiders.  The upstart football mind immediately rewarded his boss with Oakland's first winning season.  But eleven years later, Davis stole ownership of the team while Valley was at the Summer Olympics in Munich.

Many credit Davis with the historic 1970 pro football merger, because, as AFL commissioner, he encouraged his owners to compete directly for the NFL's players.  But, in reality, Davis opposed the agreement.  His end game was to beat the old guard, not join them.  When owners like the Chiefs' Lamar Hunt and the Bills' Ralph Wilson brokered the monumental deal with NFL commissioner Pete Rozelle, Davis quit his post in protest.

Davis was always willing to give an aspiring coach a shot, regardless of his background.  He hired the NFL's first Hispanic head coach, Tom Flores, and its second black coach, Art Shell.  Yet he stingily refused to honor the contract of Mike Shanahan, Lane Kiffin, and others who he unceremoniously fired.

In yet another moment of contradiction, Davis accepts the Super Bowl trophy
from Pete Rozelle, who he was suing at the time.

No owner branded and marketed his team as well as Davis, whose mantras like "Just win, baby" and "Pride and Poise" embraced fans and welcomed them into Raider Nation.  But he constantly toyed with Oakland and Los Angeles' fan bases in his never-ending quest for a better stadium deal.

Davis shrewdly built three Super Bowl champions with a group of castaways and delinquents that no one else wanted.  But in recent years, he recklessly paid record-breaking contracts to players who few teams were competing for.

At a time when teams hadn't even heard of a scouting combine, Davis measured his prospects for speed and athletic ability.  But when other General Managers caught on to his strategy, he failed to adjust it, and instead reached for players solely based on their 40-yard dash time.

Davis knew more about the pure strategy of the game than any other owner, particularly on the defensive side of the ball.  Yet his defenses have ranked near the bottom of the league in almost every season since 2002.

Davis cared little about formalities and luxuries.  He was the owner of a $750 million franchise, yet he walked around in sweatsuits and treated coaching interviewees with McDonald's and KFC.

In 2006, on the verge of a labor war, Davis helped broker a last-minute agreement between Commissioner Paul Tagliabue and NFLPA President Gene Upshaw.  Yet in this year's CBA vote, he was the only owner to abstain in protest.

In recent years, it pained me to see that an NFL icon, a legend for my father's generation, had declined to little more than a blogger's punch line for mine.  But given his history of polarities, maybe this was the only way it could have ended for Al Davis.  Over six decades, he betrayed employers, abandoned cities, exiled coaches and sued commissioners.  Yet he believed that everyone, whether they be an upstart coach, wayward player, hopeful fan, or competing league, deserved a chance to partake in the game that he loved so much.  That's what made him such an irreplaceable part of the league's history.  Football was his home, and the Raiders were his family.  It is difficult to envision both their past, and their future, without him.

Images found here and here.