John Jones III was born in Oakland to members of the Black Panthers at a time of division and strife in America. But he remembers the Raiders’ glory days in the NFL with fondness. “I grew up in church, which is segregated. [But being a Raiders fan] was transformative and beautiful in a way that stays with me. It was, and still is, a time of racial disparity and a lot of institutions are set up to divide people. But never the Raiders ... I’ve never been a part of another entity that was as inclusive. Didn’t matter your age, economic status, or race. For three glorious hours, we’re family.”

Now that family – my grandfather liked to say his beloved, gritty Raiders represented the people of Oakland – is about to break apart.

Earlier this year, NFL commissioner Roger Goodell announced the Raiders would leave Oakland for their new home in Las Vegas (it will be the second time they have left the city: they relocated to Los Angeles from 1982 to 1994). The league owners voted 31-1 in favor of the move, with only the Miami Dolphins’ owner, Stephen Ross, ruling against it because, he said, the league “owed it to the fans to do everything we can to stay in the communities that have supported us”.



The Raiders’ owner, Mark Davis, had tried to replace the 51-year old Oakland Coliseum for years. The league gave him $100m to do so but estimates for a new home ballooned to $1bn. By now, the league was accustomed to public subsidies to cover costs. But with Oakland struggling to pay for basic services, funding a stadium that would host eight regular season games a year was, to put it mildly, imprudent.

So Las Vegas flashed the cash. Nevada county officials promised the NFL $750m from a public bond approved by the voters in 2016. Even though those funds were first earmarked for jobs and schools, and community groups oppose their use for football, big-money interests always win out.

Despite the bad blood between residents and the NFL, though, most in the city wanted the Raiders to stay. The reason is found in the rebel aura the team is known for around the world. It’s a tangible quality the league has profited off for decades but one that originates directly from Oaklanders.

From left to right: Raiders quarterback Ken Stabler, Daryle Lamonica makes a pass against the New York Jets in December 1970, head coach John Madden paces the sideline. Composite: Getty Images

Rebels and Raiders

The Raiders were not born rebels. Although they were an American Football Conference charter team in 1960, they had a low profile and their first home was San Francisco. But in 1963, the team’s fortunes changed when they moved to Oakland and the Los Angeles Chargers’ assistant Al Davis became the coach.

Davis gets and deserves a lot of credit for what happened next. He developed the team’s exciting attacking “vertical” offensive scheme and changed the uniforms to a stark, intimidating silver and black that matched the no-nonsense grittiness of the game. Just as important, his intense personality – he was once described as “the NFL’s middle finger” – matched the city’s in-your-face attitude.

Davis was lucky to ply his trade in Oakland. His arrogance would have seen him run out of town in conservative outposts such as Kansas City and Green Bay. But in the Oakland of the 60s and 70s, counterculture was king. Berkeley students led a revolution exploring drugs, sex and anti-war politics. African Americans established the Black Panther Party there, Hell’s Angels bikers roamed streets, and rockers encouraged people to fight the system.

Raiders players were inspired by the social changes around them. Some supported the Panthers at political rallies while others drank with fans at local bars. And quarterback Ken Stabler’s flowing hippie-long hair and itinerant boozing epitomized the devil-may-care ideology. When the Raiders started winning – they claimed two Super Bowls in 1976 and 1980 – the team and city together cemented a reputation as a haven for rebellion.

Jones says the team’s hiring of the modern-era NFL’s first Hispanic and African American head coaches, as well as the first woman executive, are key examples of the team’s willingness to reflect the city’s diversity. He also says the Raiders helped give its citizens an identity.

Today, Jones is an intervention specialist who talks to young crime victims. He “interrupts retaliatory violence” at hospital bedsides and “assists them with programs to reintegrate them into a productive life”. He worries the Raiders’ move will lead these kids to lose a feeling of representation.

“[Kids] can only dare to dream as much as they experience and witness. Losing the team means losing a north star. The team represented camaraderie, community, and teamwork. And having a viable place to express their feelings. When you’re watching sports and you’re with friends – that’s positive productive [expression of] energy that won’t be there now.”

Losing the Raiders, Jones says, is also an example of how Oakland is losing the battle against gentrification. Keeping alive cultural and ethnic diversity as rich outsiders move in droves is not easy. With wealthy tech companies raising the costs of living, and San Francisco lacking space for infrastructure, Oakland is bearing the social brunt of new development.

I felt like I had the city on my back. I could not give a half-hearted effort Former Raiders player Kirk Morrison

Artists all over the city, he points out, are getting kicked out to make way for high-end condos while politicians cater to techies. Oakland may have made a good decision refusing to give public money to a stadium, he says, but when the city approves the building and sale of 2,800 housing units at the highest market rates in the world while only 40 are made for affordable housing, what then? Jones says it means Oakland is also losing what it’s known for: its culture.

Kirk Morrison is torn about Las Vegas with good reason. An Oakland boy who grew up to play for the Raiders, he understands how ruthless football can be.

“People are upset about the move but I can see the owner’s part of it too. They’ve been trying to get a new place to play for years. I’ve felt like I’m numb to the fact owners have to do what they have to. If I’d never played, I wouldn’t know. But it’s a business. If you think about it as investment, they’re going to a stadium where have almost nothing to pay.”

Despite his rationality, Morrison feels the hurt fans are experiencing because his career was deeply affected by the Raiders. After playing college at San Diego State, Morrison was drafted by Oakland in 2005. As a hometown player, he says fans pushed him to be the best.

“I felt like I had the city on my back. I could not give a half-hearted effort because they’d see that and I wanted to give them everything I could. I wanted them to say ‘Man, he plays hard, like the mentality of the city, hard-nosed, not getting enough credit, unified in what they do, and a joy to be around.’ I tried to take on that mentality when I played.”

As he became a veteran and his profile grew, posting team-high tackles in 2007, Morrison says he came to realize how much Oaklanders followed his career with pride and affection. “[Their attention] gave me a sense of purpose. I never felt like I could neglect or overlook people who I represent.”

The loyalty of Raider fans is well known, and Morrison remembers a year when he saw fans buying jerseys while the team was struggling. That’s why, despite being diplomatic about a move the league endorsed, he says the Raiders belong in Oakland.

“They should always be in Oakland because I know what they mean to the city and fans.”

Left: Raiders fans protest a proposed move. Right: Fans tailgate before a game against the San Diego Chargers. Composite: USA Today/Getty Images

A future without the Raiders

In the five months since the vote, the mood in the city has been complex.

The team announced it would honor the contract it previously signed with the city to play two more years in Oakland before moving. That puts fans in an odd situation where they are both jilted and needed, like a couple that decided to live together after breaking up. Then, 2,000 season-ticket holders were upset enough to give up their buying rights. But they were quickly snapped up by people who were on a waiting list alongside 20,000 fans.

A group of fans hired lawyers to “seek justice” against the Vegas vote. People have interpreted the move to mean the league and Marc Davis will be sued on behalf of the city for the right to keep the Raiders’ insignia, colors, and team records. At some point, the thinking goes, the NFL will give Oakland an expansion team that’ll magically repopulate as the Raiders of old (there is precedent, the Browns won back their history when they returned to the NFL as an expansion team).

The current players were caught between trying to be good employees and good public servants. Quarterback Derek Carr was criticized for saying Oakland fans who didn’t follow the team to Las Vegas weren’t “real fans”. He later apologized.

My grandfather Anastasio came to the US from central Mexico as part of a rental workers program to build railways. He settled in Oakland, worked hard, raised a family, and enjoyed fleeting enjoyment every Sunday by watching Raiders games. If he was around today, he’d be clear on one thing. Despite his love for the Raiders, he’d tell Roger Goodell and Marc Davis exactly where they could put their luxurious school-bond-killing stadium – far away from the city that became his home. The city that gave a team from the most corporate sports league in the world authenticity and life.