Rich Gannon surveyed the ragtag assemblage--pudgy punks with red

baseball cleats, workout warriors in tank tops, old guys with

beer bellies and tattered gym bags, pimply poseurs chowing down

Double Whoppers, street thugs in long mesh shorts--and thought he

must be having an out-of-body experience. Or maybe that's merely

what he wished it were, instead of a very real reminder of his

inglorious place on the football food chain. Fourteen months

earlier Gannon had played quarterback for the Washington Redskins

at RFK Stadium. Now, in February 1995, here he was in a public

park in suburban Dallas preparing to display his talents at an

open tryout for the Canadian Football League's Winnipeg Blue

Bombers.

Think The Longest Yard meets a high school jayvee team's first

practice of the summer, and you're still not there. "It was even

worse," Gannon says. "I've never really told anybody the story

because it was probably the most humiliating moment of my life.

Guys were running here, jumping there, with no apparent rhyme or

reason. I remember thinking, Am I really here? Have I entered the

Twilight Zone?"

For a player known to erupt over the slightest sign of

shoddiness, this was torture. However, with a rapidly shrinking

bank account and a daughter on the way, Gannon swallowed hard and

finished the workout. The Blue Bombers had wooed him for months,

and now Gannon was resigned to making an unwelcome border run.

"When I finished that workout, they told me they wanted to sign

me," Gannon says. "I said to myself, This is it. This is the

alltime low. I'll never get back to the NFL."

Instead of signing, Gannon went home determined to make one final

push for the big stage, which landed him a backup job with the

Kansas City Chiefs. For this the Oakland Raiders are grateful.

Since being coaxed to Oakland by coach Jon Gruden following the

1998 season, Gannon has helped prod one of the league's sloppiest

ensembles into a lean, mean fighting machine. The All-Pro

quarterback (2000) serves not only as the Raiders' fiery leader

but also as their de facto den mother, snuffing out

distractions--he only recently allowed games of pool to resume at

the team's Alameda training facility after a hiatus of nearly two

years--and venting at anyone who fails to match his focus. The

21st-century Raiders thus have fewer weekday diversions and far

more fun on Sundays, as evidenced by last year's AFC Championship

Game appearance, the team's first in seven seasons.

On Sunday, Gannon completed 21 of 28 passes for 209 yards and a

touchdown to lead Oakland (3-1) to a 28-21 victory over the

Dallas Cowboys. With a 99.6 passer rating that ranks him tied for

first (with Denver's Brian Griese) in the AFC, the cunning, agile

Gannon seems headed for a third consecutive Pro Bowl and is the

team's unquestioned MVPP: Most Valuable Party Pooper. "On several

occasions Rich has gotten in front of the team and laid out his

views rather strongly," says fullback Jon Ritchie. "I know some

guys don't agree with everything he says, but they have to

respect him for speaking his mind." Gannon has been known to

castigate teammates for turning around too quickly on 20-yard

back-and-forth sprints. Says Oakland tackle Barry Sims,

"Sometimes in practice he'll get mad in the middle of a play and

start yelling--with the ball still in his hands."

It's not uncommon for coaches and quarterbacks to engage in

heated exchanges, but the G-men, as Gruden and Gannon call

themselves, take it to another level. Because they are so close

in age--Gruden, the NFL's youngest head coach, is 38, while Gannon

turns 36 in December--and temperament, they often go at it like

combative guests on Politically Incorrect. Pressed for an

example, Gruden cites last season's 34-28 overtime victory over

the San Francisco 49ers. "Rich wasn't in rhythm, so at halftime I

asked, 'Are you O.K.? Do you want me to go with [backup Bobby

Hoying]?'" Gruden says. "He went off on me: 'Bleep this, bleep

that, you bleepity bleep.' Sometimes something like that snaps

him out of his funk." Gannon finished the game with 310 passing

yards, including a game-winning 31-yard touchdown throw, and 85

rushing yards.

Gruden would like to see less loose cannon and more loose Gannon,

but he's reluctant to meddle with a winning formula. "Every year

at our quarterback orientation I tell him his number one weakness

is those displays of emotion," Gruden says. "He can say whatever

he wants to me--he knows that--but around others, sometimes he'd be

better off internalizing. I have to be careful about this because

he's an emotional man, and that's one of his qualities I admire

most, but I tell him, 'Don't carry the weight of the world on

your shoulders. You're a Pro Bowl QB. Enjoy this time.'"

Excessive enjoyment, though, is against Gannon's nature. As a

freshman at Division I-AA Delaware, a Belushiesque roommate

compelled Gannon to abandon his dorm for an off-campus apartment.

Now, having fought his way through a career that has spanned five

teams and numerous setbacks, he's determined not to take this

opportunity for granted. "I've invested a lot of time and

energy," he says, "and one promise I made to Jon and to myself is

that if I'm going to go down, I'm going to go down swinging--in a

ball of flames."

Gannon's NFL career appeared to be toast after the 1993 season,

when his contract with the Redskins expired and a routine

arthroscopic procedure on his right (throwing) shoulder revealed

a torn rotator cuff. He had surgery, then returned home to Eden

Prairie, Minn., and underwent a long and painful rehabilitation.

The '94 season began, and Gannon stayed unemployed, working out

on his own in Minnesota and, at night, meticulously building a

model train layout in his basement. His lone tryout during that

season was with the Arizona Cardinals because, Gannon surmised,

"Buddy Ryan [the Cardinals' coach at the time] wanted to piss

off his quarterbacks."

By the next February, Gannon was desperate enough to attend that

tryout session with the Blue Bombers, but before agreeing to bolt

to Canada he gave the NFL one final push. Gannon went to the

Minnesota Vikings' headquarters, scoured the entire set of NFL

media guides, identified 18 teams that had at least one staff

member with whom he was acquainted and started calling. "Almost

everyone blew me off," Gannon says. "It was very humbling and

very frustrating. I'd get a lot of, 'He's in a meeting. May I

tell him what it's in regard to?'"

Two candidates emerged, the 49ers and the Chiefs. Gannon chose

Kansas City, beat out Matt Blundin for the backup job and, under

the guidance of offensive coordinator Paul Hackett and

quarterbacks coach Mike McCarthy, improved his timing, footwork

and decision-making. It was also then that Gannon began enlisting

the services of his wife, Shelley, a daughter of former Vikings

running back Bill Brown. "She'd quiz him on formations while they

lay in bed," says McCarthy, now the New Orleans Saints' offensive

coordinator. "It might not sound romantic, but that's Rich--the

ultimate professional from a work-ethic standpoint."

When Elvis Grbac was injured late in the 1997 season, Gannon

shone in winning five of six starts, but when Grbac returned,

Gannon was benched for K.C.'s divisional playoff loss to the

Denver Broncos. After his contract expired following the '98

season, which he'd spent trading places with Grbac as the Chiefs'

starting quarterback, Rich told Shelley he would sign with anyone

but the AFC West rival Raiders, for whom he had "complete

disdain." Gruden won over Gannon during what has to rank as the

NFL's coolest-ever job interview. "We went out for Mexican food

and margaritas," Gruden says, "then had the limo driver stop at

7-Eleven so we could get a six-pack. We went back to my office,

watched film of our most recent game against Kansas City and

talked into the night."

The Raiders signed Gannon to a four-year, $16 million deal.

Despite owner Al Davis's fondness for the deep ball, Gruden had

enough juice to jettison turbo-armed quarterback Jeff George for

a journeyman who relied on touch, accuracy, scrambling ability

and field awareness. "Everyone thinks Rich is the classic

overachiever because of all his intangibles," says New York Jets

general manager Terry Bradway, who as a Chiefs personnel

executive helped initiate Gannon's signing. "But the guy can

throw the ball with zip, he's very accurate, and he can really

move."

An MVP candidate last year, Gannon doesn't restrict his battles

to Sundays. In his eyes a team's toughness and mood are molded on

a continuous basis, which is why he confiscated the pool balls

from the team's player lounge late in the '99 season. "I was used

to an organized, disciplined system," he says, "and when I got to

the Raiders, guys were showing up late to practice and meetings,

and missing curfew, among other problems. Then we had this lounge

that was like a big playroom, with a pool table, one of those

pop-a-shot basketball hoops and video games."

The noise from the lounge could be clearly heard in the room

where Gruden holds his midday meetings with the quarterbacks. "We

were cramming for a Thursday game against Tennessee late in the

season, and I finally flew off the handle," Gannon says. "I went

in and took all the pool balls and put them in a box over my

locker."

The following Monday, Gannon stood up in a team meeting and

delivered a now famous speech. (It's commemorated by a T-shirt

featuring Gannon's face inside the Raider logo.) "I told them to

look at guys like Steve Wisniewski, Tim Brown and Russell

Maryland and consider why they've been so good for so many

years," Gannon says. "It's like, sit next to the kid who keeps

getting A's in class; don't hang in back with the dummies. It was

a difficult thing to say to my teammates, and there was a group

that didn't like what I said. At least two guys told me so, and I

know there were more who didn't come to me directly."

Despite Gannon's locker room clout, he's hardly spared intrasquad

abuse. It's always an event when he boards the team plane for

road trips, because Gannon's wardrobe has been known to include

such gems as a multitoned leather jacket featuring the logos of

each NFL team. "Dude tries to be down, but it ain't happening,"

says halfback Tyrone Wheatley. "Sometimes we have to get the

fashion police on him. He wears the tightest jeans I've ever

seen, and he has that walk like Travolta in Grease." Ritchie

calls Gannon's look "Minnesota shopping mall, with glam-rock

Muzak playing on the sound system."

Imagine what Gannon's teammates might do with this bit of

information, courtesy of Shelley Gannon. "We have two daughters

[Alexis, 6, and Danielle, 4], and Rich plays Barbies with them,"

she says. "The girls got him a Prince Ken doll for Christmas,

with the little sword and everything. He was thrilled."

Chide him as they might, the Raiders can't fathom life without

their leader. Take away Rich and they are poor. Exhibit A: Last

January's AFC Championship Game defeat to the Baltimore Ravens in

Oakland. After taking shots from defensive linemen Michael

McCrary and Tony Siragusa that could have been flagged as

personal fouls--"Let's be honest," the 6'3", 210-pound Gannon

says, "defensive line coaches teach players how to take

quarterbacks down"--Gannon left the game in the second quarter

with a bruised collarbone. The Raiders lost 16-3.

"He means so much to us, even though he drives me nuts

sometimes," Gruden says. "But deep down, I know the sumbitch

knows I love him."

COLOR PHOTO: PHOTOGRAPHS BY PETER READ MILLER Loose Gannon Although he's notoriously intense on the field, Gannon can unwind a bit when he's behind bars--handlebars.

COLOR PHOTO: PHOTOGRAPHS BY PETER READ MILLER Rich in ability He may seem like a classic overachiever, but Gannon has a strong, accurate arm and great feet.

COLOR PHOTO: PHOTOGRAPHS BY PETER READ MILLER Family plan Gannon even reviews plays with his wife, Shelley, seen here with their two daughters, Alexis (left) and Danielle.

Gannon has helped prod one of the NFL's sloppiest ensembles into

a lean, mean fighting machine.

"The girls got him a Prince Ken doll," says Shelley. "He was

thrilled."