by Jim Miller
For those who hate the team and its image, though, violent fans have come to stand in for all Raiders fans in a way that frequently is little more than a thin veil for class prejudice and racism. As one “Raider hater” we interviewed characterized both Oakland and Los Angeles fans, “I think both are scum really. Oakland because of its middle- to lower-class people and L.A. because of [the] South Central environment. Hell, taking my kid to a Raiders [game] in L.A. was like watching Boyz in the Hood over and over and over.” Another hater put it this way, “A book on Raiders fans? You mean a book on lower class criminals and idiots?” For people like these, hating “Raiders fans” is a good way to express general prejudices about race and class that they might perhaps keep to themselves in a different context. Raiders fan Mohamed “NOOR” Ahmed cites having to encounter such attitudes as the worst thing about being a Raiders fan. He recalls, “Getting messed with by the cops when we were younger. Cops think you’re in a gang because you’re sporting Raider gear. Today, it’s snobby people who think you’re some kind of low-class, like some of these clowns I run into at Stanford shopping center when I pick up my girlfriend at work. Sometimes I just growl at them.” Hence much of the Raiders “we feeling” is fostered by a collective reaction to the way “they” demean Raiders fans. In this way, the imagined community of Raider Nation (from underclass to white collar) is a fan subculture that shares a sense of persecution and revels in its perceived “difference.”37
Cultural studies scholar Dick Hebdige has pointed out that subcultures, “express forbidden contents” such as “consciousness of class, consciousness of difference.” Clearly this is the case for a large percentage of Raiders fans though from varying perspectives. As one Indian fan put it, “Growing up, the Raiders, and Raiders fans have always been prejudged by the actions of a few. Throughout my life, I’ve drawn parallels to how the Raiders are perceived and how I’m perceived.” Raiders fan Derek Ottman notes that “Raiders fans have a lot in common with kids who end up in alternative high school. Under ‘the system’ they don’t fit in as a model student.” Dave Kosta remembers, “My Dad, who was a biker back in the ’70s, liked them because they were sort of the NFL’s version of the Hell’s Angels. A bunch of renegades and misfits, fun-loving guys who liked to drink beer and raise a little hell.”38
Subcultures are, according to Hebdige, “profane articulations” that transgress “sartorial and behavioral codes” and sometimes includes the “breaking of laws.” This explains the range of identification within Raider Nation, with a small minority engaging in law breaking (fighting, or peeing on 49ers fans sitting in front of them in the stands), while some others express their devotion with bootleg t-shirts that proclaim the wearer to possess a can of “100% Raider Whoop Ass” or denounce other teams and fans with a provocative “Fuck the Rest.” Another subset of fans simply parties like maniacs and dresses up like pirates or evil skeletons, while others still might mildly express their “otherness” by frequently hanging out with this rowdy crew without doing much transgressive themselves.39
Hebdige also points out that subcultures are frequently met with “a wave of hysteria in the press” and elsewhere that is often characterized by “dread and fascination, outrage and amusement.” Decades of press fascination, ridicule, and condemnation of Raiders fans attest that this is true for Raider Nation. Los Angeles Times columnist Bill Boyarsky bemoaned, “The Raiders have always viewed themselves as an outcast brigade, and their followers in the stands strive mightily to emulate.” The San Francisco Chronicle’s Glen Dickey has portrayed Raiders fans as “a disgrace, drunken, and disorderly,” who are no better than British soccer hooligans and who “look much like the Hells Angels.” Jo Sparkes of the Arizona Sports Fan Network described an influx of Raiders fans at a 2002 Arizona Cardinals game as follows: “All we see are black and silver fans. Big ugly fans. Honestly, tattoos, gang scarves, teeth missing. Men and women alike. My season ticket holder lot is infested with Raider fanatics.” Most recently, Oakland Tribune columnist Dave Newhouse lambasted the Raiders faithful as a bunch of “uncouth louts” and “a pack of drunken/stoned animals.”40
A final aspect of Hebdige’s subculture model that helps explain how the imaginary community of Raider Nation manages to hold groups with conflicting interests together (thugs and cops, white collars and blue collars, drunken heathens and sober Christians, and fans of all races) is how its symbols are both mainstream commercial properties (the Raiders logo) and pirated signs of rebel street culture (gangster, hip-hop, Chicano pride, etc.). Hence the multiple meanings of the Raiders’ image form the glue that holds the nation together. Indeed, in the case of the “cholo-ization” of the Raiders logo (bootleg shirts that change the script to mimic cholo style for instance), the Raiders organization has reappropriated the latinized symbol and in turn sold it back to fans as “official” gear in Spanish or even in graffiti or low-rider style. In the case of the marketing of red and blue “Raiders” ball caps at some sports gear shops, even the gang use of the Raiders logo has been commercialized by savvy if unethical businesses. As Hebdige points out, the pirating of dominant cultural symbols and their subsequent “recuperation” by market forces is a part of the dynamic of subcultural style. Hence a white Republican from the Northern California suburb of Livermore and a black gang member from South Central Los Angeles might share an interest in football and some of the same “rebel” readings of the pirate shield, while their manifestations of “rebellion” would surely be quite different. The fact that many outsiders prefer to see the entirety of Raider Nation as a criminal underclass says more about the sordid political unconscious of the United States than it does about reality.41
While it is true that Raider Nation’s heart is blue collar, it also includes physicists, doctors, teachers, lawyers, business executives, and a whole range of other professionals. As Raiders fan David Slack puts it:Most non-Raider fans seem to have the impression that Raider fans are a bunch of crazy, heavy metal biker folks, but my impression is quite different. While there certainly may be some fans that fit that description, I think of all the sports fans out there Raider fans are the most diverse. I am a perfect example of that. I am a 38 year old, Ph.D. in Aerospace engineering who writes computer software for a living—hardly the stereotypical Raider fan you see on TV.
Many other white-collar Raiders fans we met made similar observations, but while some of them distanced themselves from the “criminal” image, no one felt the need to reject the blue-collar, working-class image. Indeed, they embraced it. Kris Snider makes that clear when he says, “The public would like to think that we are all drunks, rowdies, hooligans or gangbangers. Truth is a lot are professionals—doctors, lawyers, working class, normal people.” For those who do not fit the working-class description economically, it stands in for grit, toughness, and authenticity. Daniel Chen, an oncologist and scientist at Stanford University, says, “Football is a tough sport and I like their tough, blue-collar, smash-it-up image.... I think having a Raiders sticker on my car, does ‘protect’ my car. It’s sort of like being part of the Mafia.”
Indeed, one might argue that in deindustrialized Oakland, the Raiders’ blue-collar image is a throwback to the heyday of the great American industrial working class, a kind of nostalgic touchstone. While many of the men who built America may have had their unions busted and their jobs shipped overseas, in post-9/11 America the image of the noble beat cop, the heroic fireman, and the tough blue-collar guy is back (unless he’s asking for a raise). Today, when the theme-parking, corporatization, and commodification of nearly every aspect of our lives threatens to make the American landscape into one big, antiseptic megamall, grit has an aura of authenticity that is otherwise lacking. As David Rowe points out, “A nation that has fragmented and lost any sense of common cultural identity,” like the postmodern United States, “is preoccupied with the problems” that come with “capitalism and the erosion of authentic feeling and cohesive, self-sustaining community.” Hence, one centra
l source of meaning in the Raider Nation is working-class authenticity and community, a commodity happily shared between actual working-class fans and their professional colleagues at the tailgate. Raiders populism is at the core of the imagined community of Raider Nation. You can check your elitism, racism, and class prejudices at the parking lot entrance on the way in.42
It’s all about the Raiders
Raider Transcendentalism
Raider fans are a surprisingly diverse bunch, despite their reputation
as being mostly male swine with rap sheets and stunted vocabularies. I
think many Raider fans revel in that notoriety regardless of their actual
temperament or station in life; I know I do. There’s a certain amount of
personal satisfaction—perhaps it’s just amusement—when fans of other
teams find I’m not what they expected and they have to rearrange their
prejudices.... [Raiders fans] are often wickedly funny and irreverent.
They’re loyal and optimistic even in the worst of times. And they bond
like blood brothers.
Mike Sheehan, “The Beast of Bourbon,” Raiders fan
Raiders fans are downright Whitmanesque when it comes to the inclusive, egalitarian, democratic nature of their fan community. As Steve Lamoreaux puts it, “First, my impression of Raiders fans is that WE fans are a family.” Marc Lein says of the Raiders and his fellow fans, “They taught me about life, that it isn’t fair. The fans have been great, I have made friends of different ethnicity, religion, color, and creed.” Mike Rosacker tells of a similar experience:The best part is going to Oakland. Wherever you go, you’re hearing 3 different music artists AC/DC, Snoop, or 2Pac. The main thing I love about the Coliseum is the cultural fusion and the partying! Hispanics, African-Americans, white boys like me, and all other races join forces . . . The diversity, loyalty, and energy of the fans at the H.O.T. [House of Thrills] are something that you will NEVER find in any other NFL stadium.
Margaret Caraway, one of the many female fans we interviewed and a cofounder of a booster club, believes Raider Nation is notable because it is “accepting, friendly, and inclusive.” She and other women fans attest to the fact that the imagined community of Raider Nation, though still predominantly male, is not hostile to women, as some feminist critics have claimed about football in general. James Shock notes how Raiders fans “are like family” where “all differences are put aside and people bond together,” and Tim Bryner sees Raiders fans as a tribe remarkable for its “friendliness, camaraderie and common sharing of the tribal feeling . . . regardless of race, creed, color, religion, or whatever.”
Mark Bryant, who is currently writing a novel on the Raiders and the city of Oakland, says of the city, “Oakland is a working man’s, blue-collar mensch town.” Raiders fans, according to Bryant, “see themselves as the underdog, the champions of the poor.” Noting that “the East Bay is home to rich diversity, and people of all backgrounds,” he holds up the “gritty” character of Raider Nation’s place of origin in opposition to San Francisco, which is “only accessible to rich yuppies.” Mary Anne, who is known in her family as a “Raider baby” because she was born just after the team’s 1983 AFC Championship season, has feelings similar to Mark’s: “I think for many in Oakland, the Raiders represent the little people, those of us that don’t get any respect in society.”
Raiders transcendentalism is what Mark calls “a state of mind, a religion, a daily sacrament.” It brings with it a feeling of belonging and oneness. Bobby Davis remembers seeing his first game in Oakland as a pilgrimage of sorts:I’ve always been a lone Raider kook for all these years, and suddenly I was part of a silver and black sea. It was like going to a secular Mecca. We parked next to some Latino guys from L.A. and became fast friends with them, talked all night with some guys sitting next to us in the stadium, and everybody was friendly and excited about the game. It was a big street party.
While being a part of “a silver and black sea” is not at quite the same mystic level as Ralph Waldo Emerson’s “I become a transparent eyeball” musing in his famous essay Nature, such expressions do show how the social event that is a Raiders game transcends the contest and takes on a broader significance as site of idealized racial and class harmony. Even while watching the Raiders on TV, fans are small “d” democrats. Shawn Utterback recalls first meeting one of his good friends in a sports bar in Richmond, Virginia, where they both went to watch the Raiders: “We were completely different, ethnically, age wise, economically, just about everything was different. But we had one thing in common. We both loved the Raiders and ever since that day we became brothers and have watched almost every single game of the last six seasons, together in that same bar.”
Sometimes the game-day togetherness leads to other community-minded activity totally outside the context of football. As Jan Frost says, “It is a real trip to be part of something like the parking lot gang. Also the Black Hole group gathers long before games, sometimes to eat and drink, sometimes to collect food for Mother Wright and other groups. Everyone knows of the reputation of the Raiders and their fans, but we’re just regular people who love our team and yes, we do charity work and donations also.”
This sentiment was echoed by countless fans during our research who told us about their work sending care packages to military personnel overseas in Afghanistan and Iraq, feeding the homeless, helping needy kids, or donating money to help fight diseases. Stories of generosity abound. As one fan emphatically told us, “Raiders fans will give you the shirt off their backs.” While it is unclear whether the sense of community that helps fans transcend their differences at the tailgate or in the sports bar ultimately smoothes over racial, economic, regional, and/or gender differences outside those contexts, it is certain that the experience, however transitory, of “one big family” is one of the most compelling and genuinely meaningful aspects of Raider Nation.
The “one big family” of Raider Nation is held together and greatly expanded by a sense of simultaneity and unity that transcends space and time. Today, the ritual of the “simultaneous consumption” of media that Benedict Anderson says gave birth to large-scale imagined communities centuries ago has gone into overdrive. As Rowe notes, “Media sports texts” now have an “almost unprecedented capacity to ‘flow’ across and around . . . ‘economies of signs and space’ in both local and global contexts.” When these texts, “heavily loaded with symbolic value,” are transmitted not just via the newspaper, but by radio, television, and the Internet, their consumers can be disconnected from the locality and/or the particular class, racial, gender, or other “necessary” aspects of fan identity and take on meaning independent of those things or adopt them regardless of any real connection to them. Hence the notion that one’s team must be connected to one’s city has been tossed into the dustbin of history by Direct TV and fifty-plus Raiders websites that make it possible to watch the game in real time and take part in the morning-after analysis of the big plays and bad calls.43
This shared consumption of Raiders football and the simultaneous rehash during the week that follows as well as the off-season are prime manifestations of what Rowe claims is the special magic of media sport: “It is able at particular moments to reconstruct symbolically disparate human groups, to make them feel at one with each other.” According to Rowe, the feeling of unity created by this ritual of shared consumption goes beyond the game at hand to the creation of a shared myth that unites the past, present, and future: “Sport can connect the past, present and future, alternately trading on sepia-tinted nostalgia, the ‘nowness’ of ‘live’ action, and the anticipation of things to come.” Thus members of Raider Nation from Poland to Maui who may never meet in the flesh can watch the game “live,” confident of the fact they are doing so in concert with hundreds of thousands of their colleagues. They can also cite stories from the Raiders’ historical canon of “great moments” and know that fellow chat room Raiders will recognize referenc
es to any number of Golden Era greats from Lamonica to Plunkett. Any member of Raider Nation worth his or her salt should also be able to hum the Raiders theme song, “The Autumn Wind,” and know that AC/DC’s “Back in Black” is the song that blares over the Coliseum speakers as the team takes the field. And if the team mantras, “Just Win, Baby!,” “Pride and Poise,” and “Commitment to Excellence,” are not tattooed on his or her hindquarters, a Raiders fan should at least have them memorized. Thus a “massive” and “disagreeable cult,” as Hunter S. Thompson imagines Raider Nation, is born.44
Señor Raider Man
One
Bin Laden Is a Raider Fan
