Committed to Excellence

The NFL lost a legend today.

The Oakland Raiders lost an owner.

I lost a piece of my life.

Al Davis, who led the Raiders through good.

And into bad.

Passed away this morning.

I’m not sure exactly when my dad first met Al Davis.

But they first worked together in 1966 when Mr. Davis was the Commissioner of the AFL.

Over the years they remained close friends.

And when the Raiders moved to Los Angeles in 1982, Davis brought my dad in to work for the team.

That was quite the move for my dad.

As he was working for the New York Yankees at the time.

Steinbrenner to Davis.

Frying Pan to Fryer.

Both owners had quite a bit in common.

They both LOVED winning.

Both HATED losing.

And both were born on the 4th of July.

One year apart.

Davis was older.

There was a lot that people thought they knew about these two men.

But my dad lived it.

And I think he genuinely loved almost every minute of it.

He certainly loved being part of a World Series team in 1981.

And a Super Bowl team in 1983.

I have the rings to prove it.

But neither one of those moments would’ve happened without the owner.

What made Al Davis different is that he was not just the man in charge of the team.

He was the man in charge.

Off the field and on it.

At the age of 33, the Raiders hired Davis to become their head coach and general manager.

With that, he became the youngest person in professional football history to hold those two positions.

Now there are plenty of bosses, in every business, who think they know everything.

But Al did.

He became the principal owner of the Raiders in 1972 and held that position.

Until 7:44 this morning.

Under Davis, the team won three Super Bowls.

That’s the stuff the people know.

Or the stuff you can read at wikipedia.

But thanks to my dad, I was brought into a world of Al Davis that most people never knew.

Some of it Raiders related.

Some not.

For example, when the Raiders moved to LA, they put a bunch of posters on the side of city buses.

The posters had catch phrases.

Like “Commitment to Excellence.”

Or “Pride and Poise.”

Or something catchy like that.

But no phone number.

When my dad asked his boss why that was he said, “if we win they will find us.”

I guess it was his version of “if you build it, he will come.”

Or a pre-cursor to “just win baby.”

The words that Davis uttered when we won our last Super Bowl in 1984.

The moniker that will be Davis’ legacy.

Al Davis was a very public figure, but he lived a plenty private life too.

One thing people may not know about the Raiders owner is that he was Jewish.

Like my dad.

Maybe that’s why they got along so well.

I’m sure Al did his fair share of praying in private.

But when it came to the holiest of the Jewish High Holidays, he did his praying with us.

At a tiny orthodox synagogue in the heart of LA’s most Jewish neighborhood.

A black town car would pull up to the front of the temple at the beginning of the service.

And a man would come out of the back seat and strut into the building.

That man was Al Davis.

Inside the building there were no more than 200 people. 

More than half of which were men.

Old Jewish men.

These old Jewish men had no idea who Al Davis was.

No idea who the Raiders were.

And no idea what they were missing.

But they knew he was special. 

They just didn’t know how special.

He would always sit in the front row.

Do his own praying.

Presumably for a Raiders win.

Shake a few hands.

And get back in his town car.

Until the next holiday.

There is certainly a hidden irony here for me that the passing of Al Davis came on October 8, 2011.

The same day as Yom Kippur, the Jewish day of atonement.

The holiest day of the Jewish year.

I’m not sure exactly how religious Al Davis was.

But there is no doubt he was looking for any advantage he could get.

I always knew he respected my dad.

But I didn’t know just how much until the early morning of June 30, 2002.

That’s when I picked up the phone and called Mr. Davis at home.

I informed him that my dad died.

Suddenly.

From a massive heart attack.

The only thing I could hear on the other end of the line was crying.

“No. No. No.”

It’s a moment I will never forget.

Unfortunately I had to share this terrible news with many people.

But nobody reacted the way that Al Davis did.

We spoke for what felt like forever.

Even though it was probably closer to ten minutes.

And he ended by saying if there is anything you need, let me know.

It was a nice offer, but I didn’t expect it to go anywhere.

I was wrong.

A few weeks later I got a call from a high ranking person in the Raiders organization.

He said they wanted to talk to me about a job.

I wasn’t sure what kind of job they were talking about.

But they flew me up to Oakland and interviewed me.

Even after the interview, I still wasn’t sure what kind of job they were talking about.

In hindsight, I’m not sure there really was a job.

But Mr. Davis was just trying to do whatever he could.

He wasn’t done there. 

There was an amazing memorial service for my dad, attended by more than 500 people.

Including Mr. Davis.

Paid for by Mr. Davis.

All of it.

I’m not sure he wanted anybody to know that.

So I didn’t say anything.

Until now.

I hope that’s ok.

Mr. Davis spoke at the service and shared stories about my dad (and me) that entertained the crowd.

And eased the pain of our loss.

That was the last day that Mr. Davis and I spoke.

I still watch every Raiders game.

Religiously.

And I have passed on my undying love for the Raiders to my son.

Just as Al Davis is passing on the ownership of the Raiders to his son.

RIP Mr. Davis.

Win One For The Kippur

Saturday was the holiest day of the year in the Jewish religion, Yom Kippur.

The day of atonement.

I spent the day at the Temple of the Doomed, Citi Field, the home of New York’s OTHER baseball team.

The Mets have enjoyed two World Championships since joining the league in 1962.

But when you play in the same city as the Yankees, a team with 27 World Championships, two is too few.

This was my first trip to Citi Field, which opened just last year.  

The Mets used to play right next door at Shea Stadium, but they paved Shea and put up a parking lot.

Now Citi Field stands where you used to park for Shea.

The new stadium is completely different than the old one, but there is one thing that remains the same.

The trademark jet planes that fly literally right over your head throughout the game.

LaGuardia Airport is just minutes away and the planes are so close, you can almost see what movie they are playing.

It’s a good thing the planes do scream by or there might not be any noise in the stadium.

You see, there’s very little to cheer about this year if you are a Mets fan.

Unless somebody hits a home run.

Its not the home run that gets people out of their seats, it's the ceremonial rising of the “big (red)  apple”, located in center field.

Whenever a Mets player puts one out of the park, the apple pops up and the fans go nuts.

It happened twice on Saturday.

That’s the most work that apple has had all year.

I’m not sure if the apple is Jewish, but if it is, it really was not supposed to work on Saturday.

Sandy Koufax, perhaps the greatest Jewish player of all-time, made headlines many years ago when he refused to play for the Dodgers on Yom Kippur.

Shawn Green, also with the Dodgers, also chose to do the same several years ago.

But this year several Jewish baseball players decided to work on the holiest of holy days.

In the Jewish religion, the new day begins at sundown, so even though Yom Kippur was on a Saturday this year, it technically began on Friday night.

Jason Marquis, a Jewish pitcher with the Washington Nationals, decided to tempt fate by making his scheduled start on Friday night.

Not a good choice.

He didn’t even make it out of the first inning, giving up six runs on six hits, while posting just one out before he was removed from the game.

Coincidence?   You make the call.

According to www.jewishmajorleaguers.org, yet another reminder that there is a website for EVERYTHING, there are just 14 Jewish players in the major leagues right now.

Upon further review, I actually found three more.

14?  17?  What’s the difference. 

(The line is a lot funnier if you read it with a Jewish accent.)

A pair of all-star hitters, major league all-stars, not just Jewish ones, Milwaukee’s Ryan Braun and Ian Kinsler of Texas, both chose to play on Friday and Saturday.

Braun had three hits on Friday, but went 0-4 on Saturday, while Kinsler got just one hit in his seven at bats during those two games.

Minnesota’s Danny Valencia was born to a Jewish mother and non-Jewish father, who reportedly converted, according to www.jewishbaseballnews.com.

Did I mention there is a website for everything?

Well, Danny was bar mitzvahed when he was 13, so he is officially a member of the team, but you wouldn’t know it by his performance on Friday AND Saturday.

Danny homered both days, while picking up four hits in seven at bats.

Then there is Ike Davis, the rookie first baseman with those New York Mets.

His mother Millie is Jewish, which makes him Jewish in our world, even though his father Ron, a former major league pitcher, is not.

Ike, born Isaac Benjamin Davis, oy, has enjoyed a fantastic first season in the major leagues.

He is a promising star for the Mets.

But he had a very tough decision to make when it came to playing this weekend.

You see, a large portion of his mother’s family from Lithuania was killed in the Holocaust.

And even though Ike doesn’t practice Judaism, he is certainly respectful to the people that do.

Especially his mom.

Not to mention the huge Jewish community that lives in the New York area.

So like any good Jewish boy, when you have a tough decision to make, you ask your mom to make it for you.

Even though she admitted that she “leaned” towards Ike sitting out, Millie handed the hot potato right back to her son, saying that he should do whatever he felt like.

So Ike played on Friday.

And he played on Saturday.

And he had seven at-bats.

And in those seven at-bats, he got a hit in exactly none of them.

Striking out five times.

Coincidence?

I think not.