The Silver & Black are (really) back(?)

Being an East Bay Area sports fan isn’t easy.

In fact, it’s more agonizing than most would realize. The Golden State Warriors haven’t won a championship since 1975, the Raiders haven’t won the Super Bowl since 1984 (Super Bowl XVII), the Sharks have had the most promise in recent years to reach prominence but have never won the Stanley Cup and continue to implode every postseason, and the A’s are the most recent to claim glory with the 1989 Battle of the Bay sweep over the San Francisco Giants.
For a fan like me who was born in the early 90s, it’s exceedingly painful. I’ve been an avid (and “avid” would be an understatement) sports fan since I picked up a football around the age of eight. I’ve never seen or experienced the euphoria that comes with one of my teams winning a championship. I wouldn’t compare myself to a fan in Cleveland, but fans of my ilk would agree that seeing one of the four aforementioned teams win a title would be almost too much to handle. We literally wouldn’t even know what to do if it happened.

But there’s always hope that at least one of those teams can get there. The “We Believe” Warriors of 2006-07 expedited the precedent of faith the fans always had; and although that team has come and gone, its aura seemed to have permeated throughout every fanbase.

This has been most evident with the fans of The Silver and Black, who, in retrospect, seem to accentuate the Raiders with unfeasible expectations from year to year (me not being one of them… in most cases).

But how can you blame the Raider Nation when it doesn’t seem like things can get any worse?

From 2003-2009, the Raiders won a total of 29 games, never eclipsed over five wins in a season, and were commanded by five different head coaches. Fans saw the likes of Kerry Collins, LaMont Jordan, Aaron Brooks, Randy Moss, Daunte Culpepper and JaMarcus Russell come and go. Countless penalties haunted the team every year, no matter the personnel. And most of all, Al Davis lived to put everyone through it all. Of all the anguish by the bay, the Raiders have been drenched in insufferable infamy that none of the other residing teams could possibly equal.

Each of these attributes factored into my near-overreaction earlier this season. Based on one game against the lowly Arizona Cardinals, the season already felt over. We (us Raider fans) had seen this movie before: glimpses of potential prior to the season, decent to start the season, followed by an irrevocably crushing loss. When the Raiders lose a game that’s gift-wrapped for them, or things seem to start swaying the opposite direction, the entire season goes down in flames. That’s the mentality every team has had since the Super Bowl XXXVII loss and Rich Gannon’s career-ending injury the following season. No matter what coaches, players, or front office figures have headlined the organization, the past seven years have been everything but the definition of “resiliency.” Which so happens to be something every championship caliber, or competent NFL team for that matter, portrays and obtains.

Six weeks ago, it just felt like another season. I was expending my only satisfaction on the dismantled Cowboys. I was ready for the Warriors to start playing again. I was more interested in the Miami Heat than my own NFL team.

Moreover, just about a week ago, I attempted to recollect the most memorable moments in my life as a Raider fan. The first thing that popped in my head was sitting in my room without the TV on while the second half of Super Bowl XXXVII was being televised. The positive moments are slim to none.

Nevertheless, I was as excited, anxious, and nervous as ever for last Sunday’s rivalry revival against the Chiefs. It was the first game in seven years with legitimate merit: the opportunity to start the season 3-0 in the division; the chance to attain an above-.500 record for the first time since the start of the 2004 season; a win meant the first 3-game winning streak since 2002 and only a half-game discrepancy between the Chiefs in the AFC West with the tiebreaker. Winning would render a near-perfect storm.

However, I was on my toes. Those too-good-to-be-true prospects could only substantiate from what the Raiders would show in the first quarter. I was sure of it. The Raiders operate by game the same way they operate by season. If it goes their way early, it’s going to be interesting. If it doesn’t, they’ll lay down.

Well, my worst fear gradually came to life in the first half.

Darrius Heyward-Bey got lasered in the chest by the first pass of the game and watched it hit the turf. The offense couldn’t even get in field goal range. Darren McFadden fumbled and I instantly thought to myself: “ Oh no, it’s all been an aberration. He’s the same guy he was the last two years.” Jason Campbell recorded a mere 9 passing yards all first half. Egregious penalties were adding up. Questionable penalties were going Kansas City’s way. Oakland attempted a few trick plays and tried to get things going out of the wildcat formation. Momentum was nowhere to be found. In a nutshell, it was an imminent Oakland Raiders breakdown in the making.

At halftime, I went home and threw my Derrick Burgess jersey off my shoulders and flung it in the hamper. The game was reminiscent of a 2007 tailspin, and my jersey was representing one. I only wore it for a half and could feel the foul stench overhanging it.

In fact, it resulted in this tweet: “Just took the Derrick Burgess jersey off. Unquestionably a new bad luck charm.”

Moments later, Jacoby Ford vindicated so by taking a 94-yard kick return to the Black Hole in less than a split-second. Despite playing so putrid and bland in the first half, the Raiders found themselves only down 10-7 to start the second half.

Subsequent tweet: “Looks like it was an undeniable, UNEQUIVOCAL bad luck charm.” Have fun in my closet for eternity, Burgess jersey.

That kick return was the first of six moments in this game that discerned this specific Raiders team from years past. Ford’s return was obviously a momentum-shifter, but was also only the fourth kick return for a score in the last seven years. If that wasn’t enough to change some things for the Silver & Black, here were the others:

With just over 7:30 left in the third quarter, Campbell flipped a short pass in the flat to McFadden as he bolted down the sideline. The McFadden of the previous two seasons would’ve done one of two things: immediately slip and fall to the ground as soon as he made his move after the catch; or swiftly and gingerly glide out of bounds as he made his way down the sideline. 2010 Darren McFadden? Well, let’s just say Chiefs safety Jon McGraw doesn’t consider him a dainty runner. Run-DMC has finally earned his nickname, is evolving into a complete runner, and is undoubtedly the heart and sole of the Oakland offense. Amazingly, he’s fourth in the league in rushing and third in yards per carry with six total touchdowns and missed two games. The Nation is walking his way.

Two plays later, Campbell completed a 2-yard touchdown pass to offensive lineman Khalif Barnes. Again, the cognitive trickery by offensive coordinator Hugh Jackson was on display. Not since the Super Bowl season in 2002-03 have the Raiders exposed defenses with unusual swing-plays. With Jackson calling plays, the Oakland offense has multiple facets behind it and the personnel is utilized more brilliantly than in past years. Just ask Run-DMC.

With just over 8:50 remaining, punt returner Nick Miller became victim to what appeared to be a questionable call of a fumble on the field. However, head coach Tom Cable had used both challenges, so the call could not be reviewed. The Chiefs gained possession, and five plays later, scored on a post pattern to Dwayne Bowe due to a blown assignment by the Oakland secondary. Why was this significant? Because the typical Raiders lay-down factor was inevitably in effect. Everything was going their way, the defense had bent and not broken all game, and then it broke. No Oakland offense in recent memory has been capable of scoring following such a dent in momentum. If this one could prove otherwise, it could also prove itself discernible.

Most of us know what happened on the ensuing sequence. The offense survived the remaining plethora of penalties, the defense made one last stand, and then Jacoby Ford’s first big catch happened.

Following a holding penalty, Jason Cambpell zipped a pass in tight coverage down the middle of the field. As soon as it seemed as though Brandon Flowers had the interception in his grasp, Ford ripped the ball from his hands, setting up the game-tying Sebastian Janikowski field goal. More than an overall astonishing play in itself, Jacoby Ford’s fourth quarter catch epitomized the intangibles and diminutive factors that come with embodying a winning football team. More than ever, Ford gave the Raiders something the team hadn’t had in seven years.

If that wasn’t enough, Ford decided to finish off the contest with a scintillating outstretched catch from a 47-yard bomb by Campbell. Janikowski nailed the game-winning field goal, and the Raiders found themselves where their fans were anxious to see them: in the perfect storm.

But it wasn’t just the game-winning field goal.

It wasn’t just the relentlessly stout defense, which rendered the top rushing team in the NFL over 70 yards below its average.

It wasn’t just the commendable play calling.

It wasn’t just the level of play with stars Nnamdi Asomugha and Zach Miller injured.

It wasn’t just Jacoby Ford’s performance.

It was the fact that this team bent and didn’t break; fell behind and wasn’t phased; made plays when it needed to; wasn’t affected by the vast magnitude of the game; won despite countless blunders and a gruesome first half; and displayed intangibles that fans like me aren’t accustomed to seeing.

That’s why the 2010 Oakland Raiders vividly discern themselves from the others, where there was no evidence of such six weeks ago. This time, I’m not hesitant to overreact. Not in this Autumn Wind.