It was January 1985 and I was a young kid growing up in southern California. Having had the unfortunate luck of being born to a family of Raider fans, my early memories were of my parents and older brother shouting at the TV on Sundays for the likes of Jim Plunkett and Cliff Branch. And while I found those two to be likeable enough - as well as head coach Tom Flores - the fact was that overall the Raiders weren’t a very likeable team.
I tried to like to them. But week after week I found myself pulling against Al Davis and his band of miscreants.