Just Died, Baby

Or
A commitment to excellence? Those words you keep using, I do not think they mean what you think they mean
Al Davis, the man who showed that sports ownership should come with term limits, has died at the age of 82. He will be buried in Oakland, dug up and re-buried in Los Angeles, potential new graves will be dug in Fresno, Burbank and Inglewood, before he is ultimately reburied in the same hole in Oakland after some sprucing up that will inconvenience mourners coming to adjacent graves. The Cryptkeeper lookalike with the librarian glasses was hired to be the coach and general manager of the Oakland Raiders in 1963, and stayed too long at the party by about 30 years. He served as the commissioner of the American Football League in 1966, and steered the league in its full-on assault on the NFL, starting with a bidding war for players that forced the merger in 1970. He returned to populate the Raiders with sociopaths, reprobates and lunatics, instilling the team with the outlaw image it has carefully cultivated long after it only applies to the team’s deranged fan base. In 1982, he sued the NFL to force it to allow him to move to Los Angeles; he later sued again, accusing the league of hindering his efforts to build a new stadium in Los Angeles. In 1995, seeking to find a relevance his team had lost on the field, he moved back to Oakland, and sued the NFL again out of habit. Although the Raiders had the best record in professional sports from 1963 to 1985, more recently Davis’ decisions were along the lines of drafting JaMarcus Russell first overall to see him out of the NFL just 3 years later and hiring Lane Kiffin, ripping him for a year and a half, then firing him after 20 games.