(FULL DISCLOSURE: This post's title and finale have been edited. For the first two days of it's life, it was titled "The Oakland Raiders suck dead monkey balls". I've grown since then. This has been a recording.)
I fully expect this post to be deleted, at the very least. Probably booted off the board, too, because I'm going to come off sounding like a whiny fairweather fan, a fan in the mold of, say a Patriots fan. Or a troll. And I'm going to use bad words. And be longwinded. It's likely the post would probably carry a lot more weight if it was coming from one of the regulars instead of a noob like me. But you know something? It doesn't matter. Because after 35 years I think I'm done with this team.
"But why, Wicked? What's not to love about having your team rip your heart out week after week?" you may ask. Har. Good one.
I can't believe the mess I just witnessed in San Francisco. This disaster they must only mockingly refer to as a team showed that JaThargic may be gone but he isn't forgotten. Because most of the players and coaches on this team are just as useless and stupid as that sizzurup swilling moron was. After an inspired performance in the second half of last week's win against the Chargers which mercifully and gloriously snapped a mindnumbing 13 game losing streak to a hated division rival, a game that saw creative defensive playcalling and blitzing from a team that usually does neither, a game that any coach with a shred of sense would have used as a solid foundation to build our way back to respectability, the Raiders showed why they can't reach the next level (baby steps here, guys!) and stitch together a two game win streak: They went right back to the vanilla loser-mentality playcalling of recent Raider history. On offense AND defense. FUCKING IMBECILES. And that's all on the coaches. Hue Jackson? More like Hue Jackoff. John Marshall? Open up a Bed & Breakfast somewhere, you fucktard. And Tom Cable? The guy I've defended for the past two seasons (albeit mostly because I think stability at Head Coach is grossly underrated in this league)? The guy who doesn't have to deal with any of that pesky offensive playcalling anymore? So he can concentrate on his specialty, the O-line? The guy who's still playing and defending the nonexistent skills of that mouth-breathing, knuckle-dragging, subcretinous douchenozzle Mario Henderson (he who actually makes JaMeatloaf look like a scholar)? I finally have to admit what many of my Raider brethren saw at least a season ago: he's a turd. A fucking huge one. A fucking huge GREEN one. That smells like Ron Jeremy's hairy asshole. With a cherry on top.
Sidenote: I'd like to take a moment here to point out something that just occurred to me: the term "two game win streak" is a microcosm of this team's problems. When the hell did two games start to constitute a win streak? Oh how the mighty have fallen. FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK! (The background noises you are now hearing are baby-punching, puppy kicking, tin foil chewing, rusty cheese grater head-shaving and explosive projectile diarrhea, all being performed simultaneously.) Now back to our regularly scheduled program.
There's still plenty more blame to go around. Few players in Raiderland seem to have the strength or will to escape the Black Suckhole of Suckiness. Where players seemingly go to just-collect-a-check. Or fuck up their hamstrings. Where careers go to die. Nnamdi Asomugha and Zach Miller are the class of this team and seem to be the only two who CONSISTENTLY perform up to the standards that we the fans rightfully expect and deserve. And I love Grad's fire. He lifts the team in a way that I don't think Jason Campbell ever will. Unfortunately, he's not very durable. Which is another problem with this team. Injuries. On a regular basis. Robert Gallery. I love this guy. He just looks like a tough motherfuckin' Raider from the days of yore. I'm not gay or nothin', but if I was ever to just lay down on top of another guy and relax I'd want it to be him. But he's always out or less than 100%. Latest problem: hamstring. Darren McFadden. Started the season looking good. Finally. Then hurt AGAIN. Hamstring. Richard Seymour. Hamstring. Hiram Eugene. Hamstring. Quentin Groves. Hamstring. Walter McFadden. Hamstring. Ricky Brown. Hamstring. Chaz Schilens. Chaz Schilens? Does anybody even remember this guy anymore? Seriously dude, WHAT THE FUCK! If the doctors can't fix your problem be a man like any of the Raiders from yesteryear would have been and operate on yourself. Jesus!
Offensively, we sucked. On pass plays Jason Campbell, aka Captain Checkdown, won't throw a pass unless a receiver is wide open. And really close. To make sure a defender can't get their hands on a long pass he overthrows it and makes sure the receiver can't catch it either. Usually out of bounds, too. Just to be safe. Can't be too careful. Run plays? Bush runs right up the middle, into a pile of guys, and falls down. That's a designed play folks. They tried it like twenty times just to prove it wouldn't work. And then a few more times to make sure. That's some mighty fine police work there, Lou. And the O-line was completely fucking horrible no matter what they were trying to do.
Defensively, guess where we ranked on the scale of suckitude? If you guessed at the bottom of the shitheap, you're a winner! The only way they could stop the 49ers was by letting the 49ers fuck it up themselves. Michael Huff tackles about as well as that asswipe Deion Sanders used to. Not that he's special in that regard. Other than Nnamdi there ain't a goddamn one of them that can tackle worth a fuck. If they're even in a position to try. Which they're usually not. "If an opponent is worth pursuin', they're worth overpursuin'!" Or maybe to mix it up they'll just take a bad angle. Or only suck on run defense one week, then really blow on pass defense the next week. Make sure everyone gets a turn at fucking the fans in the ass.
And after you lose a game or get one of your teammates hurt or make a particularly boneheaded play guess what the wrong way to handle it is? Apologize via Facebook or Twitter. Let me clue you in here, Junior: if the only way you can attempt responsibility is by hiding behind a keyboard so you don't have to look anybody in the eye while you do it you're a fucking fairy. As a matter of fact if you use Twitter or Facebook at all and you're over the age of 16 you're nothing but a fucking simp. "but i jus wntd u al to now when i saw jc on the grnd i was lik omg! my bad! lol!" Great. Ebonics for the computer age. Fuckwits. Pull up your pants. Turn down that damn hippity hoppity music. And get off my lawn! Goddamn kids.
Now for something completely unrelated to their ineptitude on the field. Something the Raiders have been head and shoulders above the rest of the league in for time immemorial. The nicknames. The coolest ones ever. The Mad Bomber. The Snake. The Assassin. Dr. Death. Chester The Molester. The Judge. All names to be feared. So it kills me to know we currently have a player with the most milquetoast nickname of all time: Seabass. IT'S A FUCKING FISH! Look out, here comes THE FUCKING FISH! Oh noes, we're done for now! It's THE FUCKING FISH! Christ on a stick! Why not Mackerel. Or Flounder. Why not eschew the aquatic references altogether and go for something related to his favorite pastime? Disco Biscuit would be pretty good. Fucking goof. At least try and make it sound mean. Seabastard! There's a nickname for a pirate. "Arrrrrrrrrr! I be Seabastard. Where's me grog, wench!" From now on anybody who doesn't call him Seabastard is getting a kick in the nuts.
I'm weary of these past seven years. I've supported this team for 35 years, since I was like 6 years old. I live in central New York, surrounded by Bills, Jets, and Giants fans. The Raiders hadn't even won a Superbowl when I started watching them. I had a least favorite team before I had a favorite: The Dallas Cowboys. I picked the Raiders because they were the opposite of the squeaky clean nancy-boy Cowpies. They were hardened criminals, malcontents. Opposing teams were afraid. Grudging respect was afforded them. Along with the good I've endured the terrible. The Immaculate Reception. The move to LA, where all the poser wannabe gangsta rapper douchebags jumped on board. Marc Wilson. The 1991 AFC Championship debacle against the Bills. The highly overrated Bo Jackson, who preferred to pass on the first part of football season so he could play fucking BASEBALL. The Marcus Allen headscratcher. The disappointment of Todd Marinovich. Two almost-Superbowl runs ended in the 2001 AFC Championship Game by that otherwise useless fat fuck buckethead Tony Siragusa and in the 2002 playoffs by The Patriots and The Tuck Rule. The Superbowl XXXVII loss to Chucky and the Bucs, which should never have come to pass. Letting Gruden get away was a horrible mistake. Chased away by Darth Raider himself, Al Davis. (Fun fact about my post's title: "dead monkey balls" is a direct translation from the ancient Norse of "Al Davis's balls". Fun facts rule!)
And so began our seven year, probably soon to be eight year, descent into Hell. We said an ugly goodbye to Jerry Rice. To Tim Brown. To Rich Gannon. Three players who not only made the team great, but who also offered help to the team in these stark years since they left. Only to be ignored or even outright derided by this organization for having the audacity to imply that the team needed it, for having the hubris to suggest that they could supply it. We've all heard the rumor of Gruden saying he'd come back, if only the Raiders would ask. If you don't see why this would be a good idea, you're an asshat. GODDAMN IT! I WANT TO SEE A TEAM THAT LOOKS LIKE THEY KNOW WHAT THEY'RE DOING AGAIN!
But they probably won't do it. Or make any other sensible decisions to right this ship. It's like a parent who watches their child struggle with a drug addiction. They want to help. But they can't do it for them, and if the child doesn't want the help it's completely fucking useless. And this addled recalcitrant child doesn't want the help; all we're doing is enabling them. So with heavy heart I have to say something that in all my years as a Raider fan I never would have believed possible.
<edit> (Cue dramatic heartstring-tugging music. Roll colorful video of Raiders flags and Black Hole banners waving patriotically in the wind, fading to monochromatic shots of writhing Raiders players and coaches squirming on the gridironed grass as the music also fades, replaced by the sight and sounds of the Maker's tears pitter-pattering down on their horrified upturned faces. Time your perusal of my manic prose just right, faithful readers, so the video ends and fades to black just as you get to the end of my dark harlequin antics. And stand in shocked awe as I righteously pronounce this team's doom in my thunderous stentorian bass, accompanied by gloriously blazing lightning strikes, lightning strikes that will forever leave their Silver and Black fulminations etched upon the windows of your soul.) </edit>
And all you Raider fans out there, you should be, too. You may think you're being supportive. You're not. You're just being suckers. Stop buying their shit. Stop wasting your money. And your time. Stop going to the games. An empty Coliseum is what they deserve. Give it to them. Throw off your shackles. No more shall you stand with your innards a steaming pile at your feet, gutshot by a friend perceived. I promise you that in time, you will even be able to look each other in the eye again instead of shamefacedly turning away into a crowd, muttering to yourselves about moral victories and might-have-beens. Breathe the clean air of your newfound freedom, untainted by the stench of desperation. And remember the good times, True Raider Fans. Always remember.
Fade to black...