My knee is killing me. What started barely a month into my job as a feeling of a unidentifiable rock on the ground I couldn't see when I knelt down, a sensation going on two full years, finally exploded when, while asleep in my recliner, a ripping sensation coursed through my lower kneecap, waking me in a screaming agony. I know it's bad when I'm scouring the medicine cabinet for ibuprofen. I hate pharmaceutical poison tablets, but bucked up last night and bought a big bottle, consuming 1200mgs of generic Advil in one fell swoop just to be able to function at work while wearing a brace.
It's an agony any Raider fan experienced watching, hearing, being witness to the denverpocalypse. Screaming uncontrollably at a man once called Death Ro jogging like he was an old guy at the mall. Playcalling by Greg Knapp that looked like, well, playcalling by Greg Knapp. Pat Lee's
utter disavowal of Man Press coverage. I assume the international exchange was closed, as the Raiders
were unable to convert third downs into anything other than Greek falafels. The kind of game that makes you stare at the once-proud Raider shield tattoo on whatever body part you had it inked on with nearly as much regret as the Metallica logo you had done shortly thereafter, wondering what the hell happened to both and if there was ever a chance they could recapture the magic that made you become a devoted acolyte of either one.
I question whether Darren McFadden
has the mentality to run in the zone scheme. He needs more of a Ron Jeremy style running scheme: Find a hole, and plow through it as hard and as fast as possible. Don't think, do. The zone scheme requires someone who has lateral movement and the patience of Job to find the hole, and DMC does not strike me as a patient man. He wants to run through the hole and hit someone in the damn face. He relishes contact, sometimes to his detriment. But you know what? I'm willing to have him miss 2 games every damn year if he's gaining 100+ yards and opening up routes, stretching the field. Because no one is afraid of him right now. And that will lead to more games like the shitstorm sandwich we witnessed.
I question the mentality of an offensive coordinator afraid to utilize the full arsenal of weapons at his disposal. I don't think Marcel Reece
touched the ball more than twice in the first two games. He was properly utilized somewhat in Pittsburgh and we won. The only reason he was in the gameplan in denver was due to the fact that there was a sheer lack of bodies. But the abilities of Reece are not my biggest concern with Knapp. It is his inability to go off script, to draw something up in the dirt, to be an innovator that bothers the hell out of me. He creates gameplans and audibles designed to just keep going, to play it safe. To quote one of my favorite novels, "The clear and safe path leads ever downward into stagnation." And that is what happens more often than not with his schemes. They become predictable. A negative on a play causes his sphincter to tighten, leading to even more conservative playcalls. The team becomes inept, a snake slowly eating its own tail. Time of possession becomes another factor, and the aging defensive stalwarts become tired, sluggish, lethargic. I think one reason the defense looks so terrible is that they play with dead legs because they are on the field longer than planned. I doubt they even have time to piss in a Gatorade cup before noticing Shane heading out to punt yet again. A long drive post halftime is usually indicative of a win. It means that the defense is gassed. And I place a large chunk of the blame on Knapp's atrociously conservative, vanilla playcalls. My hope against hope is that Knapp finally removes his head from that overly tight sphincter and actually realizes that "hey, I got some talented mofos out here. Let's get them the ball." And before Knappsbetyrians tell me it's all about execution, I'll say this: I'm waiting for his.
I question the mentality of Rolando McClain
. If you're hurt, you have only two options. Either sit down and let the pain subside, or use the pain as a force multiplier. The faster you tackle that guy, the faster you get 3-and -outs, the more time you spend on the sidelines sitting on your ass, staring at the cheerleaders' asses. I was hoping he would finally coalesce this year, turning into an above average MLB. But that's not going to happen. I don't think he has the head or the heart to be the QB of the defense. I was thinking that if he didn't have the mind, then we might just toss him to the outside and let him go get the QB. But I'm pretty sure he'd stretch out his hammies, do a few jumping jacks, and tie his shoes before lackadaisically jogging to the QB at the pace of an average geriatric mallwalker. He is the Ja**** of defense. He must go, do not collect the bonus, just get your half-assing ways the fuck out of Raider Nation. Miles Burris
outplays you, Philip Wheeler
outplays you, even Carl Ihenacho
outplays you. I'd rather have Roland Curry play MLB than see your sorry quittin self ever wear the Silver and Black one more minute.
One more thing. I have been a fan since birth. And I barely recognize this team as a Raider team. I am sick in a way I have never felt before. I feel that the team is losing the very essence of what being a Raider is all about. And this would be the biggest loss of all.