Allen, Raiders Still Fumbling Around

Whatever the imperfections of the Los Angeles Raiders--their critics submit a formidable list--they enjoy the reputation of looking after their own.

One of their own, Art Shell, is head coach. He is assisted by two of their own, Fred Biletnikoff and Odis McKinney.

The front office, including the personnel department, shows four of their own, Mickey Marvin, Dan Connors, Kent McCloughan and Morris Bradshaw.

And they even have a position in the broadcasting booth for another of their own, the redoubtable warrior, Jim Plunkett.

For years they employed one of their own, Willie Brown, as coach of the secondary. Willie was uncoupled by a new coach who wasn’t one of their own, Mike Shanahan, who was detached in favor of Shell.

And Lyle Alzado, 41? Removed from the football scene, Lyle tells management it is important to his mental health he return, and he is given the opportunity to try.

The point is, the Raiders have a soft spot for their soldiers, present and past, leading you to wonder how it developed that Marcus Allen and the club fell out so sharply.

Allen did a lot of work for the Raiders; gained more yards, in fact, than anyone else ever carrying the ball for that team.

But, in the eyes of management, respect would turn to contempt, for whatever reason you choose to accept.

Ownership began to see him as a virtuoso, never entering fully into the spirit of the organization. And a faltering relationship deteriorated last year when Allen, under contract, demanded an extension of three years.

When he didn’t get it, he skipped mini-camp, training camp and the exhibition season. And, finally returning, he got hurt.

By this time, a large effort was required on the part of the Raiders to develop a fondness for him.

In his defense, Allen was able to show the large contribution he made to the club during his first seven years.

It was enough, he felt, to get the contract he wanted. And while he studiously avoided using the “B” word--with reference to Bo--it was pretty clear that Bo’s arrangement with the Raiders ticked him off.

Missing camp and the exhibition season, Bo didn’t arrive until the second week in October, at which point Allen would be shuffled between halfback and fullback and maybe upstaged, creating a dignity problem.

So before the start of this season, Marcus, who is 30, demands to be traded and the Raiders offer to accommodate, inviting him to make a deal with a club willing to tender a player of reasonable quality.

The problem was complicated by an Allen stipulation that the Raiders deal only with clubs on the West Coast.

So the Raiders enter into dialogue with the Rams, offering Marcus for linebacker Kevin Greene, disturbed over the salary proposition the Rams were making him.

This is not official, but reports circulated that John Robinson, coach of the Rams, was willing to make the trade, but was shot down by the front office.

Did the Rams feel that a running back the age of Marcus was too much of a risk to give up Greene, or did the Rams run a temperature over the $1-million pay of Marcus?

The Rams, you know, have been likened to the late Jack Benny, who, accosted by a highwayman in a TV skit, was ordered:

“Your money or your life!”

Jack responded, “Can I have a little time to think it over?”

So, on Allen, they passed. About the league, the Raiders tried to bag a first round draft pick for Marcus, but failed in that effort, too, dramatizing for Allen the cruelties of age in his line of work.

Once a running back strays past 30, his market diminishes, leaving you to ask how much better off would Marcus have been if he had proceeded steadily with his old team, instead of rocking the vessel?

It doesn’t make a lot of sense that Allen’s reward at this point should be embarrassment.

The viewer doesn’t put a lot of credence in preseason football matches, mainly because the principals don’t take them seriously, either.

But looking at the Chicago Bears the other night against the Raiders, you found it hard to believe the deterioration that obviously has beset this distinguished force.

In 1985, the Bears rose to a position of the highest esteem in pro football, running a season of 15-1 and adding three more wins in postseason, including the Super Bowl in which they ate up New England, 46-10.

In order, the next three years, the Bears finished 14-2, 11-4 and 12-4, still putting on the field a machine to be reckoned with.

Then, as swiftly as they rose, the Bears fell on their helmets last year. Their record: 6-10.

And what you are seeing now doesn’t seem noticeably improved.

It is painful for any team to admit that a decline can be due to the absence of one man, but an outsider can’t help believe that Jim McMahon’s injury, then departure, has hurt the Bears.

McMahon is a recognized screwball, but he clearly was the wasp stinging the rears of the Bears and making them move.

Now the Bears are trying to generate motion with Mike Tomczak and Jim Harbaugh, and what they show you isn’t pretty.

The Raiders have suffered similarly since the exit of Jim Plunkett, reaffirming the theory of Sid Gillman, the wily old coach, who told the world one day:

“Quality control is important in football until you lose your quarterback, in which case you can throw quality control in the crapper.”