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Raider Madness

Because of curious personnel decisions in the past and one notably rambling press-conference after the firing of a coach, Oakland Raiders owner and generally strange dude, Al Davis, has led some to believe that he has mentally “gone fishin.”

Since the Super Bowl loss to the Bucs, the Raider franchise has gone adrift, showing neither semblance of direction nor hope for future success.  The Black Hole, the raucous fan-base dressed like extras from the Mad Max films, must be clubbing each other with their maces and spiked bats out of the frustration that Davis has brought upon their franchise.  Finally, Davis’ lunacy is beginning to affect other teams—like the Bengals.

On Draft Day, Davis woke up—which is n accomplishment for a man who looks like a mummy—arose slowly, creaking and cracking as he did so, and put on one of the Raider track suits that he wears every moment of his waking life.  Once dressed and indisputably alive, he looked at himself in the mirror and reminded himself that he is a mobster in his own mind, and that this would have to be good enough.  He snarled his lip and carried on to his War Room where he would fire anyone who looked him in the eye and told him that speed was not the most important element to a football team.  He wasn’t going to let anyone stop him from making a spectacle of himself…yet again.

With their first pick, the Raiders selected Darrius Heyward-Bey, a speedy receiver from Maryland who no one projected as a first-rounder.  Outsiders giggled and rolled their eyes at the crazy old man atop his Silver tower, shouting curses down to all those who called him a crazy old man(repetitive).  Just to spite these worthless, nay-saying sods, Davis signed Heyward-Bey to a contract that was a 20 percent increase from the seventh overall pick from the 2008 draft.  The bloated contract for a fairly obscure rookie sent shockwaves throughout the negotiating rooms of other teams handling their own rookie contracts.

Like a child tugging at their parent’s coat and pointing to the cool toy the other little boy at Macy’s got for Christmas, draft-picks and their agents began demanding the increase Heyward-Bey received.

Team management tried reasoning with their rookies.

“But you must understand,” team management says, “he’s crazy. You can’t go around comparing contracts to those that have been drawn up by the insane.  There has to be some kind of law against that kind of thing, isn’t there?”

If so, neither Andre Smith nor his agent has been made aware of it.  The same goes for fellow rookie receiver, Michael Crabtree, who appears to be a good distance from his <a href=”“>rocker</a> as well.   Crabtree has stated that he intends on negotiating his contract as if he were signed ahead of Heyward-Bey, feeling that his fictional rendition of the draft seems to fit better in the universe than the real one.  He has threatened to <a href=”“>sit out the season</a> and reenter the next draft, where reason and logic might play out in a more uniform manner for Crabtree.

Smith has not been quite so radical —in fact the man they call Goo has been rather silent during his holdout—but he remains at home and the negotiations are reportedly still millions away from a deal.

The Jaguars are feeling the sting of the Raiders dementia too.  Their stud offensive tackle, Eugene Monroe, is also spending his afternoons in air-conditioning on cushions rather than feeling the hot temperatures of training camp with grass stains all over his clothes.  Jags head coach, Jack Del Rio is concerned with how far Monroe is <a href=”“>falling behind</a> due to his holdout.   I wonder who’s to blame.

Of course, neither the Bengals nor the Jaguars are going to voice that Davis runs his team like a fifth-grader on a playground and because of his nonsensical contract to his precious speedster, he single-handedly has made their situation more difficult, but they certainly might be thinking it.

Al Davis should take a worldwide cruise to see the Earth’s wonders or something before that rusted out bucket of his kicks.  Leave all that football business to the whipper-snappers within his organization who may just be more in touch with the game and reality itself.  If you’re going to be crazy, Al, go wonder off and babble to trees or chase after firetrucks.  Stop ruining it for the rest of us.

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