9101020809
DETROIT FREE PRESS
910114
Monday, January 14, 1991
METRO EDITION
1D
MITCH ALBOM
SEE ALSO METRO FINAL EDITION, Page 1D
Copyright (c) 1991, Detroit Free Press
ALLEN'S TRUE COLORS SHOW IN RAIDERS' WIN
LOS ANGELES -- The greatest myth about the Raiders is that you need only a
uniform to be a part of them. As if the colors make the man. You slip on the
silver and black and suddenly, you're not just good, you're Raider-Good.
You're tough. You're intimidating. You're different. It is the reason that
wherever you look across the American landscape, would-be heroes are wearing
silver jackets and black caps these days. Look at me. I'm a Raider.
It doesn't work that way, of course. Marcus Allen, a real Raider, knows
it. He has always known it. All during the stampede of TV cameras that plowed
past him this season to get to this guy, Bo Jackson, he knew it. All during
the clamor they made last year to bust down the door of Art Shell -- his
former teammate -- he knew it.
And now, at this moment, he knew it again. Here he was, on another Sunday
afternoon in the Coliseum, like so many other Sunday afternoons in his career,
and Allen, now 30, gazed at the crowd that was on its feet, not leaving. The
game was over. The freeways were thickening with traffic. But the fans stayed.
They cheered his name. "MAR-CUS! MAR-CUS!"
He waved. He didn't smile much. Real Raiders don't. The security guards
formed a human wall. The cheerleaders tried to peek in through the openings.
Allen kept walking toward the tunnel. He was tired. O.J. Simpson, the last guy
to make No. 32 famous in these parts, slipped into the circle, and stuck a
microphone in Allen's face. NBC wants an interview, he said.
Allen stopped. The cameras rolled.
"Great game, Marcus," Simpson said of the Raiders' 20-10 playoff win over
the Bengals. "Tell me, when Bo went out with the injury, did you feel you
really had to pick it up?"
Allen grinned. He should have laughed. He should have taken the mike,
twirled it around O.J.'s neck and said, "Get serious."
Instead, this is what Marcus Allen said: "I hope Bo gets better. I hope
he's back next week. But, you know" -- pause -- "I've been doing this a long
time."
Spoken like a true Raider.
Bo Jackson hasn't earned it yet
Listen up, kids, all you non-shavers who think that those neat silver
helmets are just another marketing tool to help make Bo Jackson famous.
Jackson still has not earned his Raider uniform. It is still on loan. He
hasn't played a full season. He hasn't led the team in guts. Most important,
he has never been to the mountaintop. He hasn't won it all yet. And remember,
the motto of Al Davis' bandits is not -- despite what some people think -- "Bo
Knows Football."
The motto is "Just Win, Baby."
Marcus Allen knows how to win.
It was beautiful to watch him out there Sunday afternoon, cradling the
football, racing to the outside, leaving the Cincinnati defenders diving at
his feet, the way he did it to the Washington Redskins that Sunday night in
Tampa seven years ago, when, with the whole world watching, he galloped for
191 yards and took home a Super Bowl MVP trophy.
That was back when Allen had the most famous feet in the Raider
backfield. That was a long time ago. Things have changed. New faces. New
coaches. Losing seasons. Dwindling crowds. For a while, the Raiders seemed
destined to go the way of Dillinger, Bonnie and Clyde, Al Capone -- legendary
past, no present.
But now we see that for all those changes, Allen has not changed. At least
not when it counts. Sunday was a big jump over the broom for this Raider
team, its first playoff game in five years, and once again, here was No. 32
leading the way. He took a handoff in the first quarter and burst through an
opening for 19 yards. A few minutes later, he took it again, off left tackle
for 16 yards. It was this kind of day. Big holes. Big runs.
And then, in the fourth quarter, with Jackson on the bench with a hip
injury and Cincinnati rising from the dead, threatening to steal this game,
the Raiders gave the ball to Allen again. Do the old magic, Marcus. When he
started running there was 5:41 left and when he finished, there were 19
seconds left. He had gained half a football field during that drive. He had
140 yards on the day. Twenty-one carries. He sealed the win.
"I've been doing this a long time," he said.
Older Raiders savor winning again
So it was the old guys Sunday who gave the Raiders one more taste of the
good stuff. It was Allen, and it was Greg Townsend, the big defensive end who
also remembers that Super Bowl in Tampa, grabbing Boomer Esiason and slamming
him to the ground for a sack. And it was Shell, who was in his last year as a
Raider player when this USC kid named Allen joined the team -- it was Shell
who guided them Sunday, kept them cool, played it smart.
Mostly it was Allen, being himself again. "I haven't minded all the fuss
that's gone on (over Jackson)," he said. "It's been interesting. But for
games like this, well, I still know how to focus. I still remember.
"I'm just glad we're winning again."
Won't it be something if guys like Allen and Townsend -- not Jay Schroeder
or Jackson -- get these Raiders to another Super Bowl this year?
You know what? It won't be a surprise. You earn your colors out in LA. Bo
may know marketing. But Marcus Allen knows how to make Sundays black and
silver. Go ask Al Davis which really matters.
FOOTBALL; MARCUS ALLEN