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Boca Raton, Florida John Madden said if he had only one phone call to make, he'd dial Al Davis. Many of Davis' former players - and current attorneys - might agree. The legendary anti-hero is among the most brilliant, loyal and litigious figures in sports today. Some compare him to Castro - charismatic, controlling, and a man who made an entire landscape in his own image. Davis dresses in silver and black in homage to the Black Knights of Army (more on that later). He signed people worthy of ultimate fighting - Jack (the Assassin) Tatum, Kenny (the Snake) Stabler, Ted (the Mad Stork) Hendricks. He slicks back his hair, wears a black jogging outfit and tells his team to "Just win, Baby." And they do. From 1963 until 1992, the Raiders were 285-146-11, the best record in all of professional sports. They were filled with misfits and castoffs and a mystique worthy of the Phantom of the Opera. Al didn't care what you thought of him, which made us care all the more. I've only had a couple of private moments with Darth Vader himself, but they were illuminating. One occurred in January of 2003, before the Raider playoff game against the Jets. I was in Oakland to do a story for CBS, and Al called me into his office. It was 9:30 in the morning, and we had just learned that a mutual friend, the great Boston Globe writer Will McDonough, had died of a sudden heart attack. Al cried before I did. I will never forget him pulling out pictures of Will from 25 years before, when both were young guns in the world of professional football. We talked about Will and the history of the AFL for more than an hour. Most people don't know this, but Al Davis was born in Brockton, Massachusetts, not Brooklyn, although his accent and his attitude are pure New York.  Al Davis and Fidel Castro: Two generals for whom winning and the uniform meant everything, now each in his own world of decline. My second memorable moment with the aging general was in Canton, Ohio this past summer, where he came to present John Madden as the 17th "Raidah" to enter the Hall of Fame. At the party afterwards, Davis was his imperial self, refusing to speak to anyone other than Raiders Jim Otto or Mike Haynes. Sensing that I wanted to talk to him, he let me into his very tight circle, but then he only wanted to speak to my husband, Dick Stockton, about Syracuse football! He told Dick he was disgusted that their alma mater had fallen into such despair. I had to laugh. Al's body is broken, but his mind is MIT. No one is laughing about the Raiders now. One of the great franchises in NFL history has become a sad and withered third-world country. Davis always loved the loyalty and dedication of the Army. His first job was coaching at Ft. Belvoir in Virginia, and he modeled his silver and black after the gold and black of West Point. A student of military history, Davis once even coached at the Citadel. But his Raiders are now the opposite of what he created. This year again, the Raiders had shocking, mind-numbing losses. Oakland stumbled to its fourth straight losing season - 2-14, which was the worst finish in more than 40 years. The pain was nearly equal to the losses Davis endured off the field. In one week, he lost both legend Lamar Hunt, founder of the AFL, and "Run-Run" Jones, the all-purpose handyman who was a fixture at the Raiders' Alameda complex. Davis was also quite close to the great Red Auerbach. "At some point, you run out of tears," he said quietly, holding on to his walker, "but I'll figure this out. We've been to five Super Bowls (winning three). I'll get it straightened out." His fearlessness and maverick style were responsible for Davis taking over the team when he was only 33-years-old. The Raiders had gone 1-13 the year before; they went 10-4 when he took control. He readily employed the vertical game, the bump and run, the rebel in full voice. Three years later, he became the Commissioner of the AFL and was one of the driving forces between the historic merger of the two leagues, creating what we know today. He also became the coach as liberator. It seems like a strong word, but he deserves it. Al Davis was the first to hire a Hispanic head coach (Tom Flores), an African American coach (Art Shell, twice), and currently has the most powerful woman in the NFL, the enormously accomplished Amy Trask – CEO of his team. One of his first interviews for a new head coach was 32-year-old Steve Sarkisian, quarterback coach at Southern Cal. Sarkisian took himself out of the running, and the job went to 31-year-old Lane Kiffin, son of the legendary Tampa Bay coordinator, Monte Kiffin. Davis is nothing if not a risk-taker; Lane Kiffin is younger than his defensive tackle, Warren Sapp. And remember that Davis is the guy who let Bo Jackson play two sports.
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