With McKenzie, the strangeness may end

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With McKenzie, the strangeness may end

That first meeting between Reggie McKenzie and Hue Jackson ought to be a triumph of awkwardosity. Or awkwarditude. Or awkwardicity. I mean, merely awkward isnt like to cover it.AFTER ALL THE YEARS I GAVE TO THIS FRANCHISE! AFTER THE THINGS IVE DONE! IVE GIVEN YOU CARSON PALMER! IVE GIVEN YOU THE IM PISSED AT MY TEAM AD CAMPAIGN! AL, AL, WHY HAVE YOU FORSAKEN ME?Hi, Hue, Im Reggie McKenzie. Nice to meet you.

Okay, it wont be like that, at least not if Jackson wants to keep the job he was hired to do. Hell be forthright but respectful, and hell promise to be the best damned coach McKenzie has ever had, and the continued glory of the Raiders, and blah-blah-blah-de-blah-blah.Its called making a good impression, and Jackson isnt so nuts as to forget how to do so.But he must, in the back of his mind, be in full fume about the end of his 89-day tenure as the football department of the Oakland Raiders. Those six heady wins, those six annoying losses, those late-night chats with Mike Brown whispering sweet give-me-Carson-Palmers into his ear . . . those were magic times.But now they are done, and the Raiders have become a traditional franchise for the first time since Wayne Valley first met Al Davis back in 1962. The franchise made a turn toward weird that day, and though their glory days were truly so, theyve been a long time off, and Reggie McKenzie has been charged with bringing them back, only in a more traditional and less capricious fashion.GUTIERREZ: Mark Davis acts decisively in landing McKenzie
This will not be a salute to the weird old days, though. The Raiders eccentricities had well run their course long before Jackson had replaced Tom Cable, and frankly, they were pretty much out of general bizarre theatre ideas the day Al Davis put on the overhead projector for the hit on Lane Kiffin.McKenzie is therefore the logical next step for a team that has always snuggled up to its essential strangeness. He wont understand the Raiders long-held methods, and unless he has been brought in to be a figurehead (which we doubt), a lot of that strangeness will end.Hell leave the uniforms as they are maybe update the eye patch with some gold trim in a Pirates Of The Caribbean motif but his M.O. is not that of someone who wants to put his stamp on a franchise. He wants to win more games than the Raiders have in the last, oh 17 years, which is when they returned to Oaktown and proceeded to polish off exactly 41.5 percent of their opponents.Thats somewhere between six and seven wins a year, and other than that piefight in Seattle a year ago, thats never been good enough to make the playoffs.But hell do it as the guy who runs a more staid, top-down, traditionally Midwestern read, Green Bay Packers-ish operation. Jackson will still be in the room for the big football decisions, but McKenzie will be making the big stripmine-the-draft-for-a-quarterback-you-used-to-know deal. Hell be the one making sure that Jackson doesnt say pissed at my team so often that he is sent to a urologist as a precaution.And if Jackson has a fundamental problem with that arrangement, well, the overhead projector can be turned into a power point presentation soon enough.It is clear that this is something Mark Davis wants. Or at least has come to see as being better than what he had. His first real decision as the essential owner of the franchise is a surprisingly sensible, even button-downed one, one he could not have made five years ago.That doesnt mean that there still isnt weirdness in the building. There will always be some of that, at least during the transitional phase while the tear of the sheet rock and rebuild off the studs to change the ambiance and the things between the walls. You know, its kind of like buying a house that used to be owned by a chain-smoking cat owner. You dont change the lingering aromas without a full-on reclamation.But McKenzie wasnt brought here to dust off pictures and repeat the old slogans. Hes come in to bring in some of his own, and if due diligence and facing our future squarely and as Ron Wolf has helped show me is a little too conservative for you, well, you had 48 years the old way, which is way more than anyone has any right to expect.In short, be thankful for what you had, and spare a thought for Hue Jackson today. He may be pissed at his team, but its for a very different reason than it was Sunday. Which, interestingly, will have been the last time you will ever have heard him say it in public.Ray Ratto is a columnist for CSNBayArea.com

Does St. Louis' suit against NFL mean hope for the City of Oakland?

Does St. Louis' suit against NFL mean hope for the City of Oakland?

You thought you were done worrying about the Raiders. You thought the votes were in, the moving vans booked for three years down the road, and all gnashing and sharpening of teeth was over. You thought you were free.

Then those buttinsky-come-latelies from St. Louis decided to rear their litigious heads, and now you find yourselves slipping back into that desperate-hope world from which no one escapes.

It seems the city and its regional sports authority has decided to sue the National Football League and its 32 semi-independent duchies over the relocation of the Rams 15 months ago because, and you’ll like this one, the league allegedly did not follow its own relocation rules when it moved the team.

As you know, there is no such thing as a rule if everyone governed by the rule decided unanimously to ignore the rule. This doctrine falls under the general heading of, “We’re billionaires, try and stop us.”

But all lawsuits have a common denominator, and that is that there is money at the end of the rainbow. St. Louis is claiming it is going to miss out on approximately $100 million in net proceeds (read: cash) and has decided that the NFL and especially their good pal Stan Kroenke is going to have to pay for permission to do what they have already done -- specifically, leave.

Because the suit was filed in St. Louis, the benefits of home field advantage apply, and the league is likely to have to reinflate their lawyers for some exciting new billable hours.

As to whether it turns into a windfall for the jilted Missourians, well, as someone who has known lawyers, I would list them as prohibitive underdogs. But there is nuisance value here, which brings us to Oakland.

The city and county, as we know, did not put its best shoe forward in trying to lure the Raiders into staying or the other 31 owners into rejecting the team’s pleas for geographical relief. By that, we mean that the city and county did not fall all over itself to meet the league’s typically extortionate demands.

But they did play angry enough to start snipping about the 2019 part of the Raiders’ 3-More-Coliseum-Years plan, and they are threatening to sue over about $80K in unpaid parking fees, so filing their own breach-of-rules lawsuit might be a possibility.

Because, hey, what’s the point of sounding like a nuisance if you can’t actually become one?

By now, it is clear that everyone in SuitWorld got what it needed out of the Raiders’ move. The city and county could concentrate on guiding the A’s into activity on their own new stadium. The team could go where Mark Davis has been agitating for it to go for at least three years – somewhere else. The state of Nevada could find a place for that $750 million that was burning a hole in its casino vault. And the league went to a market that it, at first reluctantly and then enthusiastically, decided should be its own.

The fans? Oh, please. Who cares about them? To the NFL, and to all corporations in all walks of business, folks are just walking wallets.

But for some cash? Well, climb on board, suckers. The gravy train is pulling out on Track 3.

Nobody is fool enough to think the Raiders would be forced to return. Hell, even St. Louis isn’t asking for the Rams back. They just want to get paid for the money they probably banked on in the good old days before Stan Kroenke decided to head west.

And that would doubtless be Oakland’s stance as well if. Now the circumstances are slightly different, in that St. Louis worked harder to keep the Rams than Oakland did to keep the Raiders. St. Louis scared up $350 million toward new digs for the Rams, well short of what Kroenke would have accepted, while Oakland said it could get its hands on some infrastructure money and no more.

But Mayor Libby Schaaf complained in her relocation post mortem that the league didn’t follow its own guidelines (yay correlation as causation!), maybe with an eye toward throwing a few lawyers into the fire to see how long it would burn.

There is not yet any indication that the city and county are going that route (and the silence may simply mean that they are sick of the Raiders’ saga as everyone else seems to be), but if they do, well, don’t freak out that the team might be forced to return.

Except, of course, in that place where migraines start. Dragging this back up is a bit like the phantom pain amputees feel -- but hey, people will do a lot for a bit of court-ordered cash. Anyone who has ever watched Judge Judy will understand.

A sports-related pie-fixing scandal? Hell never felt so fun

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AP

A sports-related pie-fixing scandal? Hell never felt so fun

I’m liking this 2017 so far. Then again, after 2016, nearly any year would be an improvement.

Just this last weekend we got a flat-earth scandal that turned into a mock-up about media self-importance and fake news (yay Kyrie Irving and his impish sense of satire!).

We got the overblown Russell-Hates-Kevin narrative, and the faux Russell-Secretly-Loves-Kevin counternarrative, all because we are stunningly attracted to meaningless and utterly contrived drama (yay our ability to B.S. ourselves!).

We got the NBA All-Star Game ripped for having no defense even though last year’s game was, if anything, worse (yay short attention span!).

We got the Boogie Cousins trade and the national revulsion of all the thought processes the Sacramento Kings put into this perpetually rolling disaster (yay making Boogie and Vivek Ranadive household names!).

And now we got the Great Sutton United Pie-Fixing Scandal. Yeah, pie-fixing. Hell never felt so fun.

So here’s the deal. Sutton United, a very small fry in English soccer, got to the fifth round of the FA Cup, a competition in which all the clubs in England are commingled and play each other until one team remains. The big clubs almost always win, so any time a small club goes deep, it’s a big deal.

Anyway, Sutton went deeper in the competition than nearly anyone in the last century, a charming development given that it is such a small club that it had a stadium caretaker, goalie coach and backup goalie all in one massive fellow, a 46-year-old guy named Wayne Shaw. Shaw became the globular embodiment of the entire Sutton Experience, a jolly lark for everyone involved and especially when he ate a pie on the bench in the final minutes of Sutton’s Cup-exiting loss to Arsenal.

And now he’s been eased into resigning his jobs with the club, because – and this is so very British – there were betting shops taking action on whether he would in fact eat a pie on the bench, and he either did or did not tip off his pals that he was going to chow down on television.

He did eat the pie. His pals collected on their bets. The sport’s governing body opened an investigation into market manipulation by gambling – which is hilarious given that no fewer than 10 gambling establishments have advertising deals with English soccer clubs. Shaw was invited to quit to kill the story, and he took the hint.

Hey, dreams die all the time. But it’s still pie-fixing. Let that rattle around your head for a minute. Pie-fixing. Not match-fixing. Not point-shaving. Pie-fixing.

Now how can you not love this year?

Sure, it sucks for Shaw, but it serves as a series of cautionary tales for athletes around the world.

* Gambling is everywhere, and every time you inch toward it, you dance on the third rail.

* If you want to help your friends, give them cash.

* This is a horribly delicious way to lose your gig.

* And finally, fun in the 21st century isn’t ever truly fun because someone in a suit and a snugly-placed stick is going to make sure you pay full retail for that fun.

But it is nice to know that something that has never happened before is now part of our year. Pie-fixing is a thing now, as silly in its way as Irving’s flat-earth narrative was. And as we steer away from normal games as being too run-of-the-mill-fuddy-duddy entertainment, we have replaced them with sideshows.

Or do you forget how many people complained Saturday and Sunday that the dunk contest wasn’t interesting enough? How stupid is that?

Lots. Lots of stupid. But against pie-tin-shaped planets and pies turned into betting coups, how can it possibly compare?

We chase a lot of idiotic narratives in our sporting lives. The great What Will The Patriots Do To Roger Goodell story died like the old dog it was. We still try to flog Warriors-Thunder as a rivalry in search of better TV ratings when all the obvious evidence is that it is no such thing unless you think a couple that broke up nine months ago is still a solid story. We have Bachelor fantasy leagues, for God’s sake.

This would leave most normal folks in despair, thus matching their everyday experiences, but yin meets yang, and every time it looks like we are all barrel-rolling into the sun, we get Irving, and then we get Wayne Shaw.

In short, 2017 is going to be fun of grand surprises for us all. I look forward to the day President Trump tries to fete the Patriots and only gets to Skype with Bob Kraft and the equipment guys who midwifed DeflateGate, and Mark Davis in Las Vegas, just to see if he can get a P.F. Chang’s into the Bellagio.

Why not? This is sport’s year-long tribute to sketch comedy, and evidently everyone is signing on enthusiastically to replace lessons of morality and honor and equality and dignity and sportsmanship with slackened jaws and belly laughs.

So yay sports! Or as it is clearly becoming, A Night At The Improv.