Into the Abyss: My Journey into the Raider Nation

90% of NFL fans outside of Oakland would never, even for a second, want to experience life through the lens of a Raiders fan. Throughout the nation they are perceived as ghetto, violent, degenerates who are stuck in the past. The team they root for, the Oakland Raiders, are viewed in largely the same manner. In actuality, the team has made huge strides towards modernization since the death of its owner and one-time savior, Al Davis. However, the rest of the football world still has a very specific image of Raiders fans, as evidenced by this commercial aired by King Stahlman Bail Bonds whenever Oakland comes to Qualcomm:

So why was I so interested in the life of a Raiders fan? Well first of all, could there be a more interesting adventure? Can you imagine being hated and feared by default when you venture anywhere outside of your own town? Not to mention that Oakland fans are probably the most loyal in the entire league, if not slightly delusional. Year after year, fired coach after coach, their belief never waivers. At any rate, my buddy Sergio (who’s been mentioned a few times in my previous stories) and his dad are die-hard Raiders fans, and their passion made the idea even more attractive than it already was. Somewhere in my heart, I love the Raiders and everything about their culture.

So first I needed the opportunity. Sergio’s cousin, a Chargers fan, was visiting and they had tickets for the big Chargers vs. Raiders game. All week we had been hoping for extra tickets to come, but without any luck. On Saturday night they told me that there was still a chance and to be on call. That night I had what will henceforth be known as “The Dream”. Walking through the mall with Sergio, he turned to me and asked “Hey man, if we get you a ticket, how are you going to get to the stadium?” “Oh, I’ll just hop on the trolley, it goes right to Qualcomm”, I answered easily. He then pulled a ticket to the game out of his pocket and handed it to me. Of course, none of this actually happened.

Slightly disappointed after realizing that I had not, in fact, been handed a ticket the night before, I resolved to watch football at my parent’s house on Sunday morning. When I was about a mile away, I got the call from Sergio. I called my dad and had him take me to the trolley station. Before I left, I took off the Jerod Mayo jersey I was wearing. It was time to journey into the abyss.

I’ve heard it said that the Raiders-Chargers feud is unique from any other rivalry in the NFL. My first evidence came on the trolley ride to the stadium. Because I take the trolley everywhere (rain, shine, sleet, or snow) I inevitably end up mingling among the fans of every team that visits San Diego. However, this was completely different. Where other fans usually talk playfully (or not so playfully) with Chargers fans, the theme of the day was silence. It was almost as if the Chargers fans were too busy thinking about what had happened in their late-late matchup with Oakland earlier in the season and the Raiders fans, well they just don’t like Chargers fans. When we arrived at the stadium (2 and ½ hours until game time), it was the exact opposite. Everywhere I turned, tailgating fans played either N.W.A., Tupac, or Mariachi music at the fullest capacity of their speakers. Throughout the parking lot you could hear people letting out long, guttural chants of “RAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIIIDEEEEEEEEEEERSSSSSS” at any and all times. I loved it.

After I finally found Sergio (I’m historically bad at finding friends amongst tailgaters) he handed me a Raiders shirt, which I donned over my Sunday-usual Patriots Football t-shirt, and it had officially begun. To the rest of the world, I was just another Raiders fan. As is obligatory to a tailgate, we played a game of corn hole, one Raiders fan and one Chargers fan on each team. Sergio paired up with his cousin, while I was saddled with the already-drunk family friend in a Tomlinson jersey. I started hot, but the general lack of sobriety by my partner sunk us late in the game. We later moved on to the Bud Light Fan Experience, where I attempted to throw a touchdown pass to a leaping blow-up receiver (I messed-up the pre-snap reads and overthrew him) and we ardently denied Chargers-themed towels from Bud Light girls. “Do you guys want some beads and towels?” “Uh….NO *pulls on Raiders shirt to emphasize the logo*”. We took in the Dolphins vs. Bills game for a little bit; the Chargers needed a Miami loss to remain playoffs-eligible, before finally heading into the stadium.

The scene inside of the stadium was as you would expect at any NFL game, with fans excitedly hurrying to their seats and greeting other fans of the same team. There were a lot more “RAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIDEEEEEEEERRRRSSSSS” chants, and a few Chargers fans tried to reply with an emphatic “SUCK!”, but they went largely unanswered. I noticed that Chargers supporters took extra care not to bump any of the folks in silver and black, despite the walkways being packed. It was almost as if they expected to be attacked at any second. I loved it! Passing by a group of Chargers fans talking to a news camera, I leapt in front of them and shown the emblem on my chest, screaming “DA RAIDUUUUUUHS!” I just couldn’t help myself. A few minutes later, I let out a long RAIDERS chant of my own. I had officially turned.

Once we got to our seats, we saw the ridiculous imbalance of jerseys. There were far more Biletnikoffs, Stablers, and even Janikowskis than Rivers or Mathews. Whole sections were blacked out with Raiders jerseys. I did see a guy in a Scifres, which marks the first punter’s jersey I’ve ever seen. In our particular section, there was about an equality of both and, you guessed it, the drunkest Raiders fan in the stadium. Before the game even kicked off he was already screaming “RIVERS IS SHIT!!” and imploring Sergio and I to join him. We declined. When the Raiders were introduced and began pouring out of the tunnel, it almost felt as if they were at home. When the Chargers came out of their tunnel, the boos were clearly audible. I booed right along with them. 

The Chargers scored first, held to a field goal. After a long drought, the Raiders answered with a touchdown from zombie Darren McFadden. I high-fived all the other Raiders guys around me and thought “Wow, we’ve got a chance”. I was trying to figure out why I wasn’t already a Raiders fan when Matt McGloin threw a deep pass to Marcel Reese, who had made his way behind San Diego’s defense. Running down the sideline, he appeared to be home free until he stopped running, lost track of the ball, saw it at the last second, and was too far behind it to recover. Oh right, that’s why. An update of the Patriots @ Ravens game came up on the big screen and I silently celebrated with myself. The Chargers also needed a Ravens loss, so I couldn’t be seen cheering along with them.

The Chargers drove down the field (the Chargers fan next to me kept screaming “C’mon P-Riv!” P-Riv? NO) and finished with a Ryan Mathews touchdown. A Janikowski field goal made it 10-10 at halftime. At halftime I mentioned that we probably wouldn’t get to see Pryor now that McGloin had managed a touchdown. We really, really, wanted to see Terelle Pryor play. We had seen our share of momentum swings, with both teams committing turnovers, highlighted by a Keenan Allen muffed punt and an athletic interception by Eric Weddle. The Raiders had already committed about six or seven penalties, and would finish the day with a dozen.

The third quarter was completely dominated by the Chargers, and their fans started to get a little bold. Our drunk comrade was bombarded with “Are you okay, sir?”s from every Chargers fan in a four-mile radius after every San Diego score or third-down conversion. We felt the game slipping away and waited for the sun to slip below the stadium walls, as it was shining right in our faces. I had expected the Raider Nation to be loud all day, but they couldn’t sustain the effort because Oakland committed penalty after penalty after penalty. It was disheartening, to say the least. We went into the fourth quarter still believing in the face a 10-point deficit.

Eventually, the Raiders had the ball, down 26-13 after more field goals, and were driving down the field. It was a long shot, but if they could score quickly there was time for an onside kick and second touchdown attempt. With a minute left on 4^th and 6 with no timeouts, Matt McGloin withstood a Chargers blitz and threw the ball to Marcel Reece in the end zone. The ball floated high and sailed right into Reece’s hands…where it was dropped by the fullback. Dropped. 

The Chargers got the ball back and ran the clock out. The guy at the end of our row, sporting his Rivers jersey, asked if I was going to be okay. Looking around, I lifted up my shirt and showed him the Patriots tee I was wearing underneath. We both laughed and he shook my hand.

Now that the game was over, the Chargers fans were happy to talk smack about how the Raiders would never be on their level, etc. The Raiders fans asked how many Super Bowls they had ever won. I saw a woman in a Richard Seymour jersey simply stand up and put up both middle fingers, not saying a word. As we left the stadium, passing by drunkards and more drunkards, I felt genuinely disappointed. The Raider Nation had really touched my heart that day. Then I checked my phone and saw that my Patriots had won 41-7 in Baltimore. I smiled.