This was the night the Oakland Raiders apparently chose to prove that they could again roam confidently among the top of the National Football League food chain. It's been a long time since they could even harbor such illusions.
But now comes the hard part – doing it often enough to provide a worthwhile January to a city looking through one bloodshot eye at an endless football-free winter.
That is the Las Vegas component, which nobody can control, not even the elven Mark Davis. Fans protested and cajoled to keep their team in their town for a second time, but the show for a change was inside rather than out, and the show was good.
It is clear that the long-decrepit football component seems to be fully operational again, and the Raiders finally have the right instrument, the right set of circumstances and the right moment to recreate their best history.
The Raiders played their least flawed game in more than a decade Sunday, a 30-20 throttling of the defending Super Bowl champion Denver Broncos that showed Jack Del Rio’s team at its most efficient, intelligent, tactically aware and physically imposing, dominating all meaningful metrics and forcing themselves into the shrinking group of AFC teams that could make New England worry about its fate.
Indeed, one could say that they bordered on perfection, except that . . . well, consider punter Marquette King, whose own game was a masterpiece. He dropped two punts inside the Denver 2-yard-line, dropped a makeshift Von Miller Madden dance that blew up the internet without tempting the ire of the Committee Of Tight Hinders in the league office, and in general had a superb game.
Except . . .
“Except that (special teams coach) Brad Seely can always find something to point out that can make me better,” King said, offering the likelihood that his Monday will not be any easier on the self-esteem than normal. “Tomorrow, he’ll probably bring up my last punt (a modest 41-yarder that Jordan Norwood brought back 12 yards). Or maybe I blinked wrong, or something.”
Okay, so King blinks poorly, and his Miller dance was incomplete given that he only gets to study during commercials that interrupt his viewing of Spongebob Squarepants. Got it.
But the rest of the evening, the Raiders’ first on weekend prime time in 11 years, was this team’s finest moment. They outgained Denver on the ground, 218-33. Their oft-maligned defense allowed only three third-down conversions, 283 yards, and 18:32 worth of time of possession, without getting bogged down by penalties (eight, down from 23, and 72 yards, down from 200) or coverage errors (Denver quarterback Trevor Siemian was a paltry 18 for 37).
And offensively, the morbid running game was revitalized by Latavius Murray, who was 20 for 114 and three touchdowns and if possible was more impactful than even those numbers would indicate. He and fellow backs Jalen Richard, DeAndre Washington and Jamize Olawale ran the ball 39 times with only one play that resulted in lost yardage, and quarterback Derek Carr looked in total command while going without a touchdown pass for only the third time in two years.
It was simply the best important game (granted, in a small sample size) they have played in more than a decade, and in a week in which the rest of the NFL offered few thrills. Why, they might have even done a decent ratings number in what has been a difficult year for the league in terms of eyeball harvesting. Think of it – the Raiders! Ratings death for a decade, potentially stanching the blood from a bad year for viewers, and viewing. Somewhere, the echo of Al Davis’ maniacal laughter careens down long dark corridors.
But back to the realm of the living, and as we said, the hard part. The Raiders have been eliminated by now in most years, so the last half of the season has been a minimal burden on their souls. No longer, though. Theirs is the second-best record in the AFC next to New England’s, they have Houston (5-3) in Mexico City in two weeks, and still have both Kansas City (6-2) and Denver (6-3) on the road. They have playoff position jousting to do, they have to remain healthy in a sport that refuses to allow such things, and they are visiting this brand new world while all around them chaos swirls.
There is Las Vegas, although billionaire Sheldon Adelson’s apparent decision to yank his third of the stadium money if he doesn’t get a piece of the team throws everything into doubt. There is San Diego, where the Chargers are about to be told they won’t be getting their new stadium and may be coveting Las Vegas themselves. There is Los Angeles, where first the Chargers and then the Raiders have options on sharing the new stadium in Inglewood with the notorious shoe-squeezer Stan Kroenke. And there is Oakland, which will not build Davis a new stadium and has made that clear time and again.
That is the hell of tomorrow. In the party of today, there is Mark Davis, the man without a city, wearing a long-sleeved Raiders T-shirt that he probably got by shopping at the equipment manager’s office and clapping joyfully, as John Elway stews while decked out in a natty owners-level suit and looking like the car he bought to take him to his car had just been towed.
And there is a newfound spirit surrounding the football team, one that delivers results with one hand and allows everything save bad blinking from the punter with the other. Finally, Raider football is relevant, inspiring, ratings-grabbing and downright fun.
At least for the moment, which is all any football team truly has. In other words, Marquette King is like every other player in the league in that he dances at his peril. As do we all.
