The Black Hole in the Wall

Like many people, I have spent my Sundays this fall in church.

With my new family.

Praying.

Making a lot of noise at the appropriate times.

And at the end of the day, leaving money in the tip jar.

My place of worship is called the Heavenly Church of the Silver and Black.

Otherwise known as The Watering Hole.

19th and Park.

New York, NY.

It’s the only (un)official Oakland Raiders bar in Manhattan.

If you don’t believe me, maybe you’ll believe the ten foot tall Raiders blowup doll standing outside the front door.


It's a great little New York hangout with tables in the back and a long bar up front.

And diehard Raiders fan Johnny as the lead bartender.

Each Sunday, I head over to The Watering Hole to watch the game with my brothers and sisters from the Raider Nation.

Every week a couple dozen of us, who either don’t want to spend the money on the NFL Sunday Ticket or would rather be surrounded by fellow masochists wearing throwback uniforms, meet up to watch the big game.

And every game is a BIG game for the Raiders.

After all, this is our year.

We say that every year.

But really, this year is our year.

It’s only been eight years since we were in the Super Bowl.

Ok, eight LONG years.

Seven straight seasons with 11 losses or more.

That’s out of 16 games.

You do the math.

Nobody has more losses since 2002 than the Raiders.

Well, nobody other than Freddie Mac and Fannie Mae. 

But that doesn’t stop us from coming out to root for our team.

Win or lose, we’re there every Sunday to cheer for the Raiders.

Scream at the TV.

Drink some cold beer.

Eat a burger and some amazing onion rings.

And pretend that the game actually matters.

Well yesterday it did matter.

You see, our beloved Oakland Raiders were trying to win their third straight game for the first time since that 2002 season.

This week we were hosting our hated rival, the Kansas City Chiefs.

A win on Sunday would put us within a half-game of first place.

I can’t remember the last time we were within a half-season of first place.

My old high school buddy Phil was in town for the weekend and he too has silver-and-black blood.

This game was so big, it was #7 on his list of things that he wanted to do in New York this weekend.

Right after going to Ground Zero, which we did on Saturday.

So Phil and I headed over to the bar, arriving just before kickoff.

My new Raiders friend Rick saved us two prime seats.

And for the next four-and-a-half hours, we screamed and yelled and ate and drank.

Just like we were in The Black Hole.

A bunch of fans wore old school Raiders uniforms, as they always do, reminding us of the glory days.

But I’m glad to announce that those days are back.

The last two weeks our team outscored the other team by a total of 92-17.

This week the game was much closer.

But the fact that we can almost smell the thanksgiving turkey and our games actually mean something is a miracle.

Now for those of you who don’t like sports or don’t get sports, you probably didn’t make it this far into the blog.

But for those of you who have suffered watching your team fall short every week, every year, I think you get it.

Like my good friend Cathy, a diehard fan of the Chicago Cubs.

Or my good friend David, a diehard fan of any team wearing “Cleveland” on their chest.

Or anybody rooting for the Kings -- Sacramento or Los Angeles.

Those are people with a serious case of a sports inferiority complex.

None of this "haven’t won in eight years" stuff.

The Cubs haven’t won a World Series since 1908.

The city of Cleveland hasn’t had a victory parade since 1964.

In any sport.

The Kings?   Kings of nothing.

No championships.

Ever. 

No matter how bad things have been lately for the Raiders, I have seen them win three Super Bowls in my lifetime.

But I can’t wait for number four.

Well Sunday, we scraped and clawed our way into a 20-20 deadlock, tying the game on a last-second field goal.

Then in overtime, with the bar on the verge of a nervous breakdown, the Raiders kicked a game-winning field goal.

You would’ve thought they just dropped the ball in Times Square.

My hand is still hurting from the high 5’s.

But it was all worth it.

Raiders-23, Chiefs-20.

And it got even better moments later when my 11-year old son called to celebrate the big win.

And so we begins the next generation of the Raider Nation.