SAN DIEGO – There was a time when you could find flashes of consolation in locker rooms like this one, specks of hope mingled with the residue of failure. That was a different NFL, when it was only logical that this year’s runner-up could naturally aspire to be next year’s instant favorite.
The Oakland Raiders knew better last night. They know better this morning. There was a reason why they attacked this season with such urgency. They were in a hurry, all right, hoping to blitz through the season, grind through the playoffs and grab the Vince Lombardi Trophy before someone figured them out.
“There are a lot of reasons why we wanted to get this done now,” said Rich Gannon, an MVP quarterback across every hour of this season save the final one. “But the biggest one is that you never know when you’ll get a chance to get this close again. You only get so many cracks at it.”
This one died in a flurry of bad plays, bad execution and bad coaching, and it was clear to everyone who saw Tampa Bay thoroughly throttle them that it will probably be a long while before we have to endure another week of Raider Nation pillaging and plundering Super Bowl Week.
The Raiders were exposed, they were embarrassed, they were chased all the way back to the Pacific Coast Highway by a younger, faster, quicker, stronger and better batch of Buccaneers. The final score may have been 48-21, but even those unsightly numbers don’t tell the tale of what died on the Qualcomm Stadium turf last night.
It isn’t just a season that ends for the Raiders now, but a quest, a holy mission, put forth by a room overstuffed with geezers and wheezers who have far too many yesterdays on their dossier, and far too few tomorrows.
As long as they were able to squeeze a little more life out of their legs, a little more magic out of their ride, then they were always able to use euphemisms to hide their deficiencies, especially the most troubling one: They were older than jazz.
No need to hide that now. No need to cover it in soft soap. The Raiders needed to win the Super Bowl this year because far too many of their key core players are moments away from joining AARP. They needed to finish what they started this time around, because too many of them are on the wrong side of 30, and too many teams in the AFC will be gunning for them next year.
“It’s a long way getting back here from here,” Tim Brown, one of those esteemed veterans, said quietly. “I think it’s going to be on our minds right up until training camp next year. You don’t come this close and not feel agony about it.”
But for the Raiders, coming this close comes at an extra price, with a stiffer premium. Everyone on the roster will take another giant leap closer toward drawing a pension check between now and next summer, for one. For another, the Raiders project to be so far over the salary cap next year, they may need to ask cafeteria workers to double up as special teams players.
“I don’t want to hear nothing about salary cap,” Jerry Rice snapped. “The salary cap has nothing to do with what happened here tonight. The salary cap has nothing to do with this Super Bowl.”
But the salary cap, and those yellowing birth certificates, have everything to do with the Raiders’ future and with the cold truth that this may well have been their only chance to add more sterling silver to Al Davis’ personal stock. They are too old on the field, too fat in the payroll office.
Too bad.
It isn’t hard to get caught up in the romance of the Raiders, the mystique of who they are and all they’ve been. It was even easier to believe this team was primed to restore the silver and black vestments to a place of prominence.
“We were playing so well,” Gannon said, “and time just ran out on us.”
Which is nothing compared to the tricks that time, and circumstance, are about to play on them. They tried to sound hopeful. Tried to talk about next year. But one of the blessings of experience is also one of its curses: The Raiders, to a man, can recognize the sight of a closing window of opportunity.
And the sound of one slamming shut.