Some believe in talent, others rely on motivation, and a few just follow the show.
In 1974, Al Davis instructed me to scout the first World Football League game in Chicago. The Houston Texans visited the Chicago Fire for this inaugural game at Soldier Field.
I figured Davis wanted to know formations and alignments, perhaps what players looked good, and I made sheet after sheet of information while being assisted by Doug Hafner. He was a scout for the Cincinnati Bengals, and a friend of Ron Wolf who at the time was running the Oakland Raiders player personnel department.
Hafner had a much better understanding of formations and defensive alignments than me, and I took full advantage of his knowledge to enhance my presentation for Davis. On the plane ride home I reviewed the game’s play-by-play and took as many notes on each player in the game that I could recall from watching the contest and reviewing the play-by-play to refresh my recollection.
I was ready for my football boards with Al Davis, and I was summoned to his office about 20 minutes after he arrived, which was just past eleven in the morning. Davis was out from behind his desk and motioned me to sit on the black couch beyond the chrome and glass table resting on a sliver carpet. A black throw rug with the Raiders shield was spread out on the carpet between his desk and where I sat across from him while he finished his phone conversation.
I had my volume of notes and diagrams ready to show, and even before being asked I began to review one offensive design while voicing my observations.
Davis let me talk for a sentence or two with a quizzical look on his face.
“Dennis,” he interrupted, “I just want to know this. Did you enjoy it? Was the football entertaining? Do you want to go see them play again?”
I had to mentally discharge all the facts and figures I had compiled to answer his simple question.
Did I enjoy it?
No, I said, explaining that they had Jim Nance, who was a star in the early days of the American Football League with the Boston Patriots, trying to run sweeps.
“He’s four years past being able to turn the corner on the sweeps he was trying to run behind Houston’s horrible offensive line, and they got no help on offense anywhere else. It’s no competition for our games.”
“That’s all I care about,” Davis nodded while retreating behind his desk, a sign it was time for me leave his office.
In other conversations, Davis had emphasized what business we’re in, and my first response of football got a cool reception. After a couple other misses that I offered in rapid succession to try and fill the void after being surprised that "football" wasn’t our business, Davis provided the answer.
“Entertainment.”
For the first time in the history of the American Football League, and in a ten year shorter span that began in 1970 when the National Football League completed the merger with the AFL by introducing the two conferences, American and National, a postseason is being played without Al Davis involved.
Too bad, I think the Raiders owner would have enjoyed this year’s show even if his Raiders were eliminated on the season’s final weekend. There are only four teams left, so we know we are going to have the Patriots meet the Giants or 49ers, or we are going to have the Ravens meet the Giants or 49ers.
If New England beats Baltimore, then the Super Bowl will either be against the same team that ended their perfect season four years ago in Super Bowl XLII, the New York Giants. Or, if the 49ers win in San Francisco, it will pit Tom Brady against the team he idolized as a kid.
If the Ravens upset the Patriots on the road, they will either play the team that they trounced in Super Bowl XXXV, the Giants, or send both Harbaugh brothers to Lucas Oil Stadium to decide what team is best in all the land. A San Francisco/Baltimore matchup would be a repete of the night game on Thanksgiving won by the Ravens in Baltimore, 16-6.
In the world of entertainment, the NFL is on a can’t miss course.
