The NFL is a shameless whore. So it only makes sense the Raiders have filed paperwork to leave Oakland for Las Vegas, a city built on quickly separating thrill-seeking fools from their money.
Sorry, apountry. The AFC West neighborhood ain’t what it used to be.
The Chargers have in the middle of a 24/7 traffic jam somewhere in the burbs of L.A. Raiders owner Mark Davis’ idea of heaven is the wind blowing through his bad haircut while driving a convertible on the Strip in Sin City.
Maybe the dirty business of pro football should not make me mad. But it does, because the NFL holds loyal fans hostage to build shiny new stadiums, financed in no small part with public money that could be spent on sidewalks or schools. NFL owners were truly born without the capacity for shame. How else to explain how the Raiders could issue season-ticket renewal requests to the good people of Oakland, crassly asking for their financial support until a new stadium in Vegas is ready to open in 2020?
Maybe the Chargers and Raiders abandoning towns they professed to be home should also matter to you, because while the NFL likes us all to believe “Football is family,” as those schmaltzy television commercials suggest, the league will divorce your cute little thunderbolt-painted face in a heartbeat. Unless we’re talking about how Stan Kroenke and Jerry Jones sit around the pool at a five-star hotel and devise ways to make their fraternity of billionaires even richer, the NFL doesn’t give a flip about its football family. Just ask the working stiffs who opened their hearts and wallets to sad-sack football teams in Oakland, San Diego or St. Louis.
Yes, I probably should feel lucky to live in Denver, where Pat Bowlen put down deep roots that will survive long after he passes away. Broncos management, however, did let a 56-year marriage between the Chargers and San Diego die. If Denver is among 24 teams that cast an approving vote to let the Raiders pack up and leave, it will feel as if we’ve sold another piece of the AFC Westap soul.
Los Angeles needs another NFL team like it needs another BMW on the 405 freeway. Oakland is real and gritty; Las Vegas is plastic, as fake as a showgirl’s eyelashes.
Hey, call me sentimental. But I love my AFC West neighborhood. It feels like an old friend. For me, traveling the AFC West is thumbing through the vinyl stacks for treasure at 1-2-3-4 Go! Records on 40th Street in Oakland. Itap sipping coffee next to a surfer dude at Katy’s Cafe on Imperial Beach outside San Diego.
To me, the AFC West looks like a fan dressed in a Darth Raider costume at the Black Hole and smells like burgers sizzling on a tailgater’s grill outside sunny Qualcomm Stadium, the coolest dive in all of pro football.
But to greedy NFL owners, the AFC West ain’t nothing but an ATM machine.
History doesn’t count for much to NFL owners such as Dean Spanos, who turned his back on San Diego without a proper goodbye. Honoring tradition or rewarding loyalty? C’mon, man. Thatap so very 1950s. We’re not in this together.
The AFC West? Itap an ATM machine coming soon to a city near you, looking to drain every dollar from poor saps that foolishly think wearing $99.99 jerseys in the stands can make Las Vegas look major league.
