Color Them No Longer Intimidating : Raiders: Much of the swagger is missing from the team wearing silver and black.

Long before inner-city kids even thought of wearing UNLV or Georgetown garb, they were wearing the silver and black of the Raiders. It wasn’t just color scheme that made the Raiders cool: They were one of the most feared--and infuriating--teams in pro football.

The Raiders not only beat you up, they beat you. From 1963 to 1983, their .715 winning percentage was the best in pro sports. They went to three Super Bowls between 1976 and 1984, and they won them all in rip-roaring fashion. The only Super Bowl Redskins Coach Joe Gibbs ever lost was to the Raiders--38-9 in 1984.

While the Dallas Cowboys self-righteously sold themselves as America’s Team, the Raiders, first in Oakland and then in Los Angeles, epitomized the outlaw image. Like America’s most feared motorcycle gang, the Hell’s Angels, the Raiders were born and thrived in gritty Oakland. The comparison was not lost on either group.

The Raiders had character and characters. They were a veritable halfway house for NFL outcasts and assorted wild men such as John Matuszak and Lyle Alzado, both of whom died long before their time, to the surprise of no one who knew them.

But the biggest outcast of them all--self-appointed and anointed--was their former head coach and forever owner, Al Davis.

What other owner in pro sports wore black leather jackets and a ducktail and moved as mysteriously as a Mafia don? Grew up in Brooklyn but spoke with a southern accent? Had the guts to sue his fellow owners and the league that made him rich--and win--when it tried to stop him from moving his franchise? Had the unmitigated gall, when the L.A. Coliseum balked at building him luxury boxes, to threaten to move the Raiders to Sacramento, suburban Irwindale, or back to Oakland? And pocketed $20 million when those fantasy deals fell through?

But his players loved him. He paid them top dollar and didn’t sweat the small stuff. Their small stuff. If you were a Raiders coach or front-office type, you did it Al’s way or you did it somewhere else. “Commitment to excellence” was Davis’ and the Raiders’ motto, but what it really meant was commitment to him.

But the team the New York Giants play today at the Coliseum is no longer a monument to excellence, but living testament to how quickly a team descends into the muck of mediocrity -- and below -- when the man at the top loses his touch.

Under Davis, the Raiders have won only one playoff game -- a 1990 wild card victory over the Cincinnati Bengals -- in the past eight seasons. They have finished better than 9-7 only once in the past six seasons. They enter Sunday 0-4, their worst start since 1964.

Offensive coordinator Terry Robiskie was demoted this week, which came as a surprise to most of the non-Raider world, since nowhere exists a piece of paper identifying Robiskie as the Raiders’ offensive coordinator in the first place. The Raiders list him as their tight ends coach.

Because of Davis’ philosophy -- now seen as rigidity -- the Raiders have adhered to the same basic offensive strategy for the past 30 years. But when it comes to writing accurate job descriptions on paper, Al likes to keep you guessing.

Al doesn’t care about race, color or creed, he only cares that you do things in what he calls “the Raider way.” His way. When Al made assistant coach and former Raider All-Pro offensive tackle Art Shell the NFL’s first black head coach in the modern era, some applauded maverick Davis’ daring.

They couldn’t have been more wrong. It wasn’t a daring move, it was a conservative, close-to-the-vest move. The 300-pound Shell didn’t get the job because he was white or black. He got it because he was silver and black.

But with the Buffalo Bills visiting next Sunday, and the very real possibility that the Raiders will start 1-5 or 0-6, he’s also looking at a lost season.

It shouldn’t be that way. The Raiders dominated the Broncos in their opening game in Denver, but Raiders turnovers at the end of drives kept the game close, and John Elway won it with another in his series of astounding, last-gasp, 85-yard touchdown drives.

In Week 2 in Cincinnati against the Bengals, Raiders quarterback Jay Schroeder had one of his greatest days, but the Raiders lost in overtime when their two kickoff return men collided, the Bengals recovering the fumble deep in Raiders territory. Two plays later, the Bengals kicked the game-winning field goal.

In Week 3 against the woeful Bernie Kosar-less Cleveland Browns, the Raiders lost fumbles deep in their own territory on their first two possessions, propelling the Browns to a 14-0 lead and 28-13 victory.

Monday night, the Kansas City Chiefs ran through an aging Raider defense in an easy 27-7 victory.

In their heyday, the Raiders were known for huge pass-blocking linemen who gave their quarterback time to throw the deep patterns Davis loves. But although Steve Wisniewski is a great guard and Don Mosebar a solid center, the tackles are run-of-the-mill. Davis has never made rebuilding the line a priority, and it shows.

Even as salaries spiraled, Davis used to be way out in front of other owners when it came to signing key players. No more. Scott Davis, one of his defensive line stalwarts, has yet to report because of a salary dispute. And defensive end Greg Townsend didn’t sign and report until the eve of the season, and he came in 25 pounds overweight.

For years, Davis has feuded with running back Marcus Allen, who is now suing him. Davis plays and drafts his favorites, often over the objections of his coaches and player personnel people. Willie Gault, the ex-Chicago Bear, is no longer a particularly productive receiver, but he plays more than he should because Davis acquired him and loves him. Easier for Davis to play a guy than bench him and admit the judgment of “The Genius” was wrong.

The Raiders haven’t had a good quarterback since Jim Plunkett or a dominant back since Bo Jackson’s career-ending hip injury. It’s been almost 10 years since their linebacking trio of Ted Hendricks, Matt Millen and Rod Martin terrorized opponents, since Lester Hayes and Mike Haynes were the world’s best cornerbacks, since Allen and Howie Long were young.

All that’s left are the memories, and a 63-year-old man whose monumental ego gets in the way of building a better football team.