THE TYGRRRR EXPRESS

25 years ago, the 1983 Raiders won the Superbowl.

15 years ago, the 1993 Raiders showed a ton of heart. I also learned about matters of the heart.

Before getting to football, I want to pay a tribute to some heroes. No, not those in Iraq and Afghanistan. Those people are heroes, but I am talking about the unsung heroes that engage in actions on a daily basis without recognition.

Yes, of course I am referring to myself.

Normally I am awake at the crack of noon on weekends, but today I somehow woke up at 10am. While this alone might not seem like an accomplishment, it gave me an opportunity to dig down deep. My football game was not until 1pm, but if somehow I could make it out of bed, I could help my nation when it needed me most.

I started my day with my standard 4 word prayer…We…can…do…this.

It was not easy, but through grit, determination, and sheer will, I made it to my destination at 10:57am, 3 minutes before the 11am deadline. I beamed with American pride as I let the person on the other side of the counter know what I wanted. “McDonalds Deluxe Breakfast please.”

Yes, in an economy that some see as teetering, I could not stay in bed. I had to go out and contribute to the local economy. I know many people want to thank me for this, but it was my duty as an American to help, and I was happy to honor everything that is decent, right, and tasty in this world.

While my first task was pure glory, my football game was less successful. I did have one reception, but it was not enough.

Our team, “Touch This,” ran into a buzzsaw. One play into the game, a touchdown bomb had the score at 7-0. This would have been delightful had we not been on defense. After falling behind 14-0, we had a touchdown bomb of our own. The ball was bobbled and caught, at which point the receiver raced to the end zone. Unfortunately, the play had been blown dead. It was an inadvertent whistle. We did throw a touchdown on the next play, but it was to the other team. The interception return turned what should have been a 14-7 game into a 21-0 hole. Another completion for a touchdown by our team resulted in 7 more points for the other team. When our team went to the half, we were down 35-0.

I could brag about how we shut the opponent down in the second half, but it was possible that they stopped caring. On the last play of the game, they scored their only points of the second half. Unfortunately, it was still more than the bagel we put up, matching our first half output. We went down to defeat 41-0.

After the umpteenth interception, the referee heard me say that this was like watching Rich Gannon in the Superbowl a few years back. I think that Buccaneers defensive players Dexter Jackson and Robert Brooks were on the other team against us. I still have flashbacks about that debacle that ended the 2002 NFL season.

As for my teammates, they are very nice people, and everybody grieves in different ways. Some of them consumed alcohol. I have my own post game therapy. I announced to them that I was an alpha male, and as an alpha male, I was going to go shopping.

My teammates also asked me how my girlfriend got the nickname I gave her, that being the Chicago Cannonball. I let them know that unless she gave me permission to disclose that, I would just say that I am a happy guy.

As for the game, I love football, but sometimes love hurts.

Yet if 2008 was emotional, especially for a crybaby like me, 1993 was the year that everything went bonkers. It seems like only 15 years ago that it was 1993.

Everything that happened revolved around the Raiders, and their struggle to reach NFL greatness on the 10th anniversary of their 1983 Superbowl triumph. Key moments in my life directly intersected with that season.

The team started 2-0, and Week 3 against the Cleveland Browns had the Raiders up 16-3 in the 4th quarter. Yet I was nerve wracked. The offense was doing nothing, and the defense was exhausted. I know football, and the score was deceptive. Sure enough, the Browns closed to within 16-10, and then a safety made it a 16-12 game. The nightmare got worse. Cleveland running back Eric Metcalf broke off a long run, just short of a touchdown. With 10 seconds left in the game, the Browns had the ball on the Raiders one yard line.

At that moment my girlfriend of almost 3 weeks came into the lounge and wanted to discuss feelings, and what our relationship meant. Luckily, yours truly had the best male friends a guy could ask for. They surrounded this woman, whose only redeeming quality even I could not identify, and let her know that she would be executed if she bothered me at that moment.

On the next play, the Browns scored a touchdown, and won a shocker 19-16. I stormed out of the lounge in a rage. I was a senior in college, and took things slightly harder than I do today.

I was disconsolate on the stairwell in the dorms when one of the guys let me know that there was a barbecue with hot dogs and hamburgers. I said I did not want anything, even red meat. At that moment he yelled out that the situation was a “code blue,” and absolutely nobody was to talk to me. He sealed the stairwell off to keep everybody away from me. The only two guys that could deal with me in that situation are still friends of mine to this day.

As I lay in the stairwell disgusted, I heard the viper, who was truly my worse half, say, “He is being a baby. He needs to get over it.” One of the guys questioned the woman as to whether she had a death wish, or a death expectation.

She then snapped, “You would think it was something important.”

Another girl standing in the area looked at the viper and replied, in a soft voice masked with a thick Russian accent, “Don’t you see. It’s important to him.”

Even in my dazed condition I processed all of this. Later that night I dumped the viper. Several days later, the Russian and I began a 2 year relationship.

A couple of weeks later the Raiders had another psychotic finish. Week 5 was against the New York Jets. It was a miserable first half for the Raiders, and they fell behind 17-0. Quarterback Jeff Hostetler was a leader and a winner, but this was just not his day. Vince Evans, who may have been 100 years old, came into try and give the team a spark.

Normally my new girlfriend would stay far away from me on NFL Sundays, but she saw me in the hallway and saw that I need consolation. She let me rest my head on her stomach. I was in a daze, but she assured me the Raiders would come back and win. She made it clear that while she knew nothing about football, she knew that she wanted me to be happy, and the Raiders would do their part.

I went back to the lounge, and Vince Evans began reining bombs. The Raiders came back and tied the game 17-17, but a costly interception by Evans led to a field goal that had the Jets up 20-17.

The Raiders drove down the field, as the clock was running out. In a complete reversal of 2 weeks earlier, the Raiders had the ball on the Jets one yard line with seconds left. A field goal would have been automatic, but the clock was running and their was no time to get the kicker on the field. Head Coach Art Shell ordered the team to go for it, and Nick Bell barreled up the middle for a touchdown. He fractured his ribs on the play, but ended his season heroically. The Raiders won 24-20, and I remained sprawled on the floor in exhaustion. The Russian found me and helped get me to my dorm room to sleep it off.

Several weeks later the Raiders had a thriller on Monday Night Football against the hated Denver Broncos. The Raiders led 13-0, the Broncos went ahead 17-13, and the Raiders pulled back ahead 20-17. The Broncos were driving for the winning touchdown when the Raiders held them to a field goal and a 20-20 tie. As my close friend and I watched in his apartment off of campus, the entire neighborhood heard the basket case that was me. On the last play of the game, in the Cold Denver air, kicker Jeff Jaeger nailed a 53 yard field goal for a 23-20 Raiders victory. The congratulatory calls began coming in immediately, but I was on the floor unable to speak. My friend let everybody, including my girlfriend, know that I would call them once I came out of my stress induced coma.

Yet this season was never easy. After 15 games the Raiders were 9-6. Week 16 was the rematch with the Broncos. It was do or die. If the Raiders won, they would be in the playoffs. A loss ended their season. It was January 2nd, 1994, but for football fans, it was still the 1993 season.

The Broncos scored the first 6 times they had the ball, and led 30-13. John Elway was on fire.

My girlfriend did not come in the lounge. She would send other people in, and they would report back to her. In that sense, she really failed to make matters worse, unlike the viper.

Hostetler threw a touchdown to close the gap to 30-20. The defense finally stepped up. A field goal made it 30-23. The Raiders had one last drive, and with seconds left, Jeff Hostetler threw a pass as he was being sacked. Alexander Wright caught it. ESPN announcer Chris Berman called him “Alexander ‘If loving you is wrong, I don’t wanna be’ Wright.” The game went into overtime tied 30-30.

The Broncos got the ball first in overtime, and Elway took them right down the field. My friends and I, all rooting for the Raiders, watched helplessly. My Raiders jacket, a silver and black badge of honor, was used by me as something to bite into. Long time kicker Jason Elam came on for a 40 yard field goal, and the chance to end the Raiders season.

At that moment I remembered my relationship with God. There are no atheists in that type of situation. I will not say what promises I made, or whether I honored them. I believed them at the time.

The kick is up…No good!

Winston Moss, the emotional leader of the Raiders defense, pounded his fist into the turf. I pumped mine into the air. The Raiders had life.

Hostetler, aka “The Hoss,” made the most of his opportunity. Several plays later, Jeff Jaeger came on for a 47 yard field goal. Chris Berman’s voice thundered during the post game highlights.

“Jeff ‘Mic’ Jaeger…Paint it black! It’s good! Jaegermeister on the house!”

The Raiders had won 33-30 in overtime. They were going to the playoffs. Their wildcard opponent was…the Denver Broncos. Both teams made the playoffs. The Raiders would be hosting again.

January 9th, 1994, was more than the WIldcard game. It was my 22nd birthday. Mark your calendars everybody. The date has not changed, only the year does.

Friends of mine from all over Southern California joined me in the lounge. We were either all going to a restaurant to celebrate my birthday after the game, or I was going to stay in my dorm room and break things.

The Russian stayed far away, asking anybody who walked out of the lounge how things were going.

The game was tied 21-21 at the half, and everybody was making sure that the day ended in celebration. Sometimes people tease me. Not today. Everyone was supportive.

The Raiders took over in the second half. With 18 seconds left, the Raiders led 42-24. I was still nervous. When the clock hit zeroes, everybody sang the best rendition of happy birthday I have ever had. The Russian heard the jubilation, and I let her know that it was time to plan the carpools for the party. My birthday was held at a 50s cafe, and I was sky high.

On January 15th, 1994, the Raiders had their divisional matchup with the Buffalo Bills. The Bills had been to the Superbowl after the 1990, 1991, and 1992 seasons.

In 1990, the 4-0 Raiders, who have never been 5-0, led the Bills 24-14 in Buffalo. The Bills then exploded, with a blocked punt and several turnovers leading to a 38-24 Bills victory. Because of that game, the Raiders ended 12-4, and the Bills 13-3. The rematch was played in the AFC Championship game, with the winner going to the Superbowl. The Bills led 41-3 at halftime, and won 51-3. It was humiliating.

In 1991 the Raiders wanted revenge. The 10-3 Bills came to Los Angeles to play the 9-4 Raiders. The Raiders led the Bills 27-14 with 5 minutes left. The Raiders then collapsed, and the Bills won the game 30-27 in overtime. The Bills went to the Superbowl again, while the Raiders went into a tailspin, losing every remaining game.

In 1992 The Raiders defeated the Bills, but had a terrible year and finished 7-9. The Bills went to the Superbowl.

In the magical 1993 season, the Raiders had their best game one week after their worst game.

In Week 11, they played the 0-10 Bengals at Cincinnati. The Bengals won the game 16-10. Jaeger missed 4 field goals. The entire game was a nightmare. 0-10, and they beat the Raiders.

Yet Week 12 was against the Bills in Buffalo. The Raiders were 6-5 and desperate, especially after losing to the Bungles. The Bills were 8-3. Despite the cold, the Raiders showed a ton of heart. Trailing 24-16, they converted two Buffalo turnovers into a 25-24 victory. This game saved the season.

Now the Raiders needed to beat the Bills again, in Buffalo. The wind chill made it 30 degrees below zero. These Raiders would not back down. A touchdown pass by Hostetler had the Raiders up 23-22 in the 4th quarter. Another one point shocker was possible.

The Bills went up 29-23 on a touchdown, and the Raiders next offensive series went nowhere. Buffalo had 6 1/2 minutes left, and they ground down the clock, and my heart with it.

This hurt worse than 51-3. This game was winnable. Yet it would be Buffalo going to their 4th straight Superbowl. The 1993 Raiders went 10-6, and 11-7 including playoffs.

I wanted Buffalo to suffer consequences, perhaps a tornado. Instead it was Los Angeles that got rocked two days later.

On Monday, January 17th, 1994, I went to bed about 4:15am. I was still fried from the emotional football weekend. 15 minutes later, the Northridge Earthquake rocked Los Angeles.

Like any football fan, the first words out of my mouth were pure me.

“Oh, great. First the Raider game, and now this. This week is really going to suck.”

I was always calm in these situations. After all, with Earthquakes you either live or die, and the answer comes quickly. Besides, I was exhausted, and just wanted to go back to bed. It’s not like this was something stressful, like football. It had been a long season, and I needed the offseason to recover. 2 days into the offseason, the timing of this quake could not have been worse.

People began yelling about everybody going to the basketball court on campus, because that was the flat level ground. When people knocked on my first floor window to get to the basketball court, I replied, “I don’t want to play basketball. I’m tired.”

I would have stayed in bed but somebody yelled that the Russian hurt her foot running outside.

I grabbed my keys and wallet, and tended to her. She was frightened, but I ignored orders about going back into the building to get her a couple blankets. I wrapped one around her foot and the other around her body. Also, I got my sneakers and socks because I was cold.

Then after being told not to go back into the building, I remembered that I had orange soda in the fridge. I went back and got it. What were they going to do, write me up? That was not new to me.

I told one Resident Assistant. “I am really cool, calm and collected right now. I can be very helpful…or very cranky. Now which do you want in this type of situation?”

The R.A. pointed out that if I kept going back into the building, it could collapse on me and kill me. I replied, “Then I would deserve it, and you would not have to deal with me anymore.”

Then I ignored orders not to use any telephones by going back into the building and calling my friend, who lived in a house around the block from campus. Everybody else stayed on the cold basketball court until about noon.

We were ordered to stay on campus, so I had my friend pick up the Russian and me, and we were back asleep in a warm house by 7am.

That night one of the Resident Assistants, whose sole reason for living was to write me up, confronted me about my actions.

“If everybody had done what you did…”

I immediately laced into him.

“Look, my girlfriend was hurt. She wasn’t looking to R.A.s for help. She was looking to me. It is my responsibility to keep her safe. Now if you want to write me up the next time I get in a fistfight, or break any number of screwed up rules in these dorms, do it. Let this one go. I did the right thing, and I will go into the Dean’s office and accept my medal if that will get you off of my back.

You were busy trying to do things. I actually did them. That’s why you guys froze till noon, and she and I were back in bed by 7am. Now I don’t have time to sit here and sing kumbaya with you. I handled things my way, and my way worked.

I acted out of love. She’s safe. That’s it. Now I am going to go take care of her while you fill out paperwork.”

He never wrote me up, and that very night I told the Russian that I loved her.

I made sure that she fell asleep safely, and my two closest friends, who as I previously said, are still close to me 15 years later, were on the phone. These guys knew me like nobody else in this world. They understood me.

“Eric, can you believe what an awful situation…I mean what a disaster.”

I knew what they were talking about, and it had nothing to do with a natural disaster. Their voices got intense.

“Why the hell did the Raiders run the ball on 3rd down and 10? You have to throw in that situation!”

Finally! People were speaking common sense.

Yes, I had finally professed my love for my girlfriend. Yes, the Earthquake was unpleasant, although my running the campus radio station lightened the mood as I thundered out “What’s Shakin’ Baby!,” over the microphone, before playing ACDC singing “You shook me all night long,” and Europe singing “The Final Countdown.”

Yet nothing could change the fact that the 1993 NFL season had ended. The Raiders did not win it all, but I remain a believer in the silver and black.

September of 1994 was only 8 months away. I needed to get some rest before kickoff.

eric

This entry was posted on Sunday, July 13th, 2008 at 3:08 pm and is filed under SPORTS, WOMEN. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.