No Need to Argue About It, Raiders Are Simply Boring

Art Shell and Jeff Hostetler, grumpy old Raiders, are not very entertaining people apart from their work. Neither one is much fun.

In private, Shell is pretty mellow with his players and Hostetler is an all-pro practical joker. Inside an elevator a couple of months ago in Spain, Hostetler pressed every button with his palms before stepping out, leaving Shell trapped in a car that stopped at every floor. Hostetler also leaves smelly fish inside teammates’ bunks and once slapped a sticker on Howie Long’s bumper that made Howie the unexpected toast of West Hollywood.

But to the public eye, Shell and Hostetler have no personality. None. I doubt if any NFL coach-quarterback combo has ever been this dull. These two have demonstrated none of the brass and none of the sass of, say, Mike Ditka and Jim McMahon, whose volatility made every Sunday an explosion waiting to happen.

This explains at least in part why last Sunday’s very public domestic quarrel between Shell and Hostetler on a sideline in Miami threw many viewers for a loss. Shell is one of those tight-lipped NFL types who wouldn’t say Shinola about a player if he had a mouthful. Hostetler keeps to himself before and after practice, doesn’t mingle with the media and ended a preseason group interview with a jaunty: “OK, see you guys next season.”

So, we have no idea how Shell feels about Hostetler.

Or if Hoss hates the boss.

They keep their thoughts to themselves. Or at least behind closed doors. It is a rare day indeed when Shell publicly chastises an individual, and the last player about whom he said anything uncomplimentary was probably Marcus Allen, who already had split.

Hostetler, meantime, is not as sincere and expansive as Vince Evans, not as candid and breezy as Billy Joe Hobert, not as unpredictable and kooky as Todd Marinovich and not nearly as available or amiable as Ken Stabler or Jim Plunkett.

I make my living trying--failing, often--to report or analyze what athletic figures do or say. At times after a game, a coach or athlete will utter those immortal words: “You saw it. You write it.” Within days, I guarantee you, that same person will then remind me that I don’t know a single thing about football.

This also means you--you fans, who sit up there in the stands, as thousands will today when the Atlanta Falcons come to the Coliseum. You watch football, you have opinions, but professional coaches and athletes believe you never know what you are talking about, because few of you have ever smeared Ben Gay all over your bodies and gone out there to make tackles. Being such an amateur, I know no way to dissect what happened between Shell and Hostetler. What I do know is that Shell, although hardly a humorist, made one of the funniest remarks of the season by recently saying, “You guys are blowing this thing out of proportion.”

Coach, do I ever have news for you. In New York, in Chicago, in Philadelphia, in San Francisco, in Dallas, in Miami, you name it, if a coach and his quarterback screamed at one another the way you and Hostetler did, it would have led the nightly TV news over Princess Diana’s love life and Iraq’s troop movement.

A columnist from Boston called a couple of weeks ago, trolling for anecdotes about Art Shell. I told him I didn’t have any. Even a national magazine that spent endless hours with Shell came away with a feature about what a wonderful lineman he used to be, many moons ago. Shell is no Ditka, no Jimmy, no Shula, senior or junior. He is no Marv Levy, belting a fight song of his own creation, or Buddy Ryan, spewing quotes the way craters ooze lava. Shell is solid and stolid. He is stable. He is boring.

And so are the Raiders. Sadly. Which is probably the problem in the first place. This team once specialized in amusement and entertainment. The Raiders’ offense was dynamic. Their players were institutions, or belonged in one. You couldn’t wait to see what the Raiders did next. Now you wait and wait for them to do anything. To use Rocket Ismail. To get the ball to all those road runners who go so fast. To lob the bombs.

A procession of poor quarterbacks preceded Hostetler, who was the best thing to happen to this offense in a long time. Unfortunately, there is no longer an offense behind the quarterback. Hostetler is a quarterback who doesn’t throw long who has a bunch of receivers who love to go long.

Defenses smother the short pass because they know Hostetler seldom goes long and because the Raider rushing game has no bite. Marcus Allen? Eric Dickerson? Heck, at this point I’d settle for Todd Peat back in the backfield, blocking with all of his Refrigeratoresque 330 pounds. At least then the Raiders could run the ball rather than pass it when they need two crummy yards.

Shell wants to let Hostetler call plays about as much as Dan Reeves wanted John Elway to. But somebody had better call plays better than the ones the Raiders are calling now.

Why? Because the argument between Shell and Hostetler was the most interesting thing the Raiders have done all season, that’s why. And if one of them has to leave town at season’s end, I’m afraid it’s going to be the wrong one.