We hit 42 in our Raiders countdown to kickoff. Who wore it best and who's wearing it now
No. 42
Who's wearing it now: LB Matt Jones
Not THAT Matt Jones. Or that one. This is a new Matt Jones. This Matt Jones is an undrafted rookie linebacker out of Baylor. Hoping he can make enough of an impression on special teams to crack the roster or at least earn a spot on the practice squad.
Who wore it best: S Ronnie Lott
Lott had already established his Hall of Fame career as a nine-time Pro Bowler with four rings in San Francisco by the time he joined the Raiders in 1991. But he wasn't done. In his first season with the Raiders at the age of 32, he put up eight interceptions and was named to his 10th Pro Bowl and a first team All Pro for the sixth time. Even though he spent just two seasons in Silver & Black, he earned earned the title as best to wear the number 42.
Honorable Mention: S Eric Turner
Turner had also already established himself in his career before joining the Raiders. The two-time Pro Bowl safety joined the Raiders at the age of 29. He spent three seasons in Oakland and was part of the resurgent Raiders team of the late 90s. Tragedy would end his career and his life the following offseason, when he died from complications caused by abdominal cancer. He was just 31 years old.
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Yahoo
an hour ago
- Yahoo
Ichiro Suzuki becomes comedian during Baseball Hall of Fame induction speech
COOPERSTOWN, NY. — The day was filled with passionate speeches, inspirational messages, and ended Sunday with a comedy show by the least suspecting Hall of Famer, with most of the audience unaware he even spoke English. Ichiro Suzuki, the first Japanese Hall of Famer in baseball history, brought down the house with one of the most humorous speeches since the late Bob Uecker. Suzuki, who has had a full-time interpreter since he arrived in the United States in 2001, delivered his entire speech in English, cracking jokes with a perfect delivery, entertaining the crowd of 30,000 at the Hall of Fame induction ceremony. He was one of five players inducted in the 76th induction ceremony, joined by CC Sabathia, Billy Wagner and the late Dick Allen and Dave Parker. 'People often measure me by my records,'' Suzuki said. '3,000 hits, 10 Gold Gloves, 10 seasons of 200 hits. Not bad, huh? But the truth is that without baseball, you would say, 'This guy is such a dumbass.'" Suzuki's comedy act was just beginning, reciting baseball stats, his 3,089 hits, his record 262-hit season, and saying how his career was recognized by the Baseball Writers Association of America, but it still wasn't good enough for the one anonymous writer who didn't vote for him, preventing him from joining Mariano Rivera as the only unanimous Hall of Famers in history. He paused, listened to the laughter from the crowd, and then with a perfect delivery said, 'Oh, by the way, and that offer for that writer to have dinner at my house has now ... expired.'' He thanked the Seattle Mariners and Hall of Fame GM Pat Gillick for believing in him and signing him in 2001, thanked the New York Yankees for his 2 ½ years with them, and Hall of Famer Derek Jeter for his valuable leadership. And then thanked the Miami Marlins for extending his career for three more years, but with a twist: 'Honestly, when you guys called to offer me a contract for 2015,'' Suzuki said, pausing again, 'I had never heard of your team.'' Suzuki's teammates all knew that he spoke perfect English, and had a delightful sense of humor, but now the baseball world became clued into his secret. 'I played with him for three years, so I knew he could do that,'' Sabathia said. 'I was just excited for people to get to know his personality and how funny he is.'' In the press conference after the ceremony, Suzuki said there was never any thought to delivering his speech in Japanese, saying it was important to him to provide humor to the fans and baseball officials in attendance in Cooperstown, while also making sure everyone understood the importance of respecting the game. 'I always said that being a Hall of Famer wasn't a goal,'' Suzuki said, 'but to make people laugh here was a goal of mine.'' The only time Suzuki spoke Japanese during his entire speech was thanking Hideo Nomo for giving him the courage to play Major League Baseball. 'Because of Hideo's courage,'' Suzuki said, my eyes opened to the idea of challenging myself by going somewhere I never imagined.' Nomo was the first Japanese player in 30 years to play in MLB in 1995, pitching for the Los Angeles Dodgers, and was an inspiration to Suzuki, who wrote an essay when he was in the sixth grade that he wanted to be a professional baseball player. 'I think you can imagine, there was much doubt when I tried to become the first position player from Japan in MLB,' he said. 'But it was more than just that. There was criticism and negativity. Someone even said to me, 'Don't embarrass the nation.' 'I encourage young players to dream, and dream big, but to also understand the difference between your dream and the goal. In order to make your dream your goal, you must be honest in thinking about what is important to achieve it.'' CC Sabathia hopes to see more Blacks in baseball Sabathia stressed throughout his speech and afterwards in a press conference, that he wants to do everything in his power to make sure he's not the last Black pitcher inducted into the Hall of Fame. He wants to be a role model in hopes of increasing the Black population of baseball, declining to just 6% on opening-day rosters this season. 'When I first started watching baseball, and Dave Parker was crushing homers,'' Sabathia said, 'the number of black players in the major leagues was at its highest, about 18%. Me and my friends played the game because we saw all of those guys on TV. There was always somebody who looked like me in a baseball unfiorm. 'Baseball has always been a great game for Black athletes, but the baseball culture has not always great for Black people. I hope we're starting to turn that around. ... 'I'm sitting here and thinking about it now, 'Who's next? Who's the next Black starting pitcher to win 20 games? Will there be another? I don't want to be the final Black pitcher standing here giving a Hall of Fame speech. I think it's on me and the next generation to find that next kid.'' Sabathia's speech also was effusive in praise for the women in his life, from his mother, Margie, to his aunts and grandmother, Ethel Rufus, raising him in Vallejo, California. He wouldn't be on stage this day, he said, if not for the love and support of his wife, Amber. His mother used to put on catcher's equipment to help him work on his pitching mechanics, and even talking about pitch selection in the garage. And he spent plenty of nights at his grandmother's house where he would pick grapefruits from her tree and throw them at a folding chair used as a strikezone in the back yard. When he wanted to work at Marine World as a teenager, his grandmother wouldn't let him, telling him he needed to focus on baseball. 'You'd be lucky to have even one of those women in your life,'' Sabathia said, 'and I had them all. A village of women who raised me, guided me, made me laugh, fed me, protected me, and a few times, literally save me, starting with my mom.'' Billy Wagner's wait finally ends Wagner, who had to wait until the 10th and final year of eligibility to enter the Hall of Fame while Suzuki and Sabathia made it on the first ballot, thanked dozens of teammates from Jeff Bagwell to Russ Springer to his pitching coaches to bullpen catchers to managers to writers. Wagner, 5-foot-10, is the second pitcher to be inducted under six feet tall. 'I wasn't the biggest, I wasn't left-handed [until twice breaking his right arm], I wasn't supposed to be here,' Wagner said. 'Perseverance isn't just a trait. It's a path to greatness. 'Being up here today, I feel like my baseball life has come full circle.' Dave Parker: Poet Parker, who died last month after battling Parkinson's since 2012, was able to let his son, David Parker II, present just what he wanted to say in his Hall of Fame speech, and wrote a poem before he passed. Here I am, 39. About damn time. I know I had to wait a little, but that's what you do with fine aged wine. I'm a Pirate for life. Wouldn't have it no other way. That was my family, even though I didn't go on Parade Day. I love y'all, the Bucs on my heart because those two championships I got, y'all played in the first part. I'm in the Hall now, you can't take that away. That statue better look good -- you know I got a pretty face. Top-tier athlete, fashion icon, sex symbol. No reason to list the rest of my credentials. I'm him, period. The Cobra. Known for my rocket arm, and I will run any catcher over. To my friends, families: I love y'all. Thanks for staying by my side. I told y'all Cooperstown would be my last ride.'' Dick Allen presented by his widow Allen's widow, Willa Allen, spoke for the Allen family, letting people know that her husband was a kind and passionate man, and was much more than just a Hall of Fame ballplayer. She told the story about the time a 16-year-old fan asked for his autograph at Dodger Stadium. They talked for two hours, and Allen wound up helping him throughout his life. He was in attendance Sunday at the age of 70. "It's not about where you come from, but where you're determined to go,'' Allen said. 'It's about principle, passion and determination.'' When the ceremony ended, the players retreated to the Otesaga Hotel where they had a dinner for Hall of Fame players only. No family members. No friends. Just the players and commissioner Rob Manfred. But, before they got together and sat down, Suzuki had a request to his new Hall of Fame teammates. 'I hope I can hold the values of the Hall of Fame,'' Suzuki said. 'But please, I am 51 years old now. So easy on the hazing.'' Follow Bob Nightengale on X @Bnightengale. This article originally appeared on USA TODAY: Ichiro Suzuki Hall of Fame speech highlight of weekend in Cooperstown
Indianapolis Star
4 hours ago
- Indianapolis Star
Bubba Wallace envisioned joining NASCAR legends, again doubted himself, then ended 100-race drought
INDIANAPOLIS — Bubba Wallace drove the closing laps of Sunday's Brickyard 400 with a pair of guests in his cockpit. Their voices echoed the dichotomy of emotions the 23XI Racing driver elicits whenever he steps on stage for pre-race introductions: those thundering boos filled with hate, disgust and doubt, and the raucous yells and rhythmic chants of his name that rain down whenever one of NASCAR's most divisive drivers finds successes. Though he's worked in recent years to silence the noise and silo himself off from the world on race days in an attempt to discover an internal calm to help lessen the valleys on bad days and refocus himself on the ones where success seems within his grasp, dueling voices still linger. One: a nagging, irritating and oftentimes successfully demotivating devil in his ear that tells him he's not good enough to be leading the closing laps of a Crown Jewel race — and certainly not good enough to win one. And the other: a snarky, somewhat sarcastic wit that spars back with the simple notion of '(expletive) it, we can do this.' Sunday, with the sport's best talent oscillating between hugging his outside on restarts and otherwise breathing down his neck, Wallace's angel on his shoulder won out. Why the 31-year-old eight-year Cup series veteran still wars with those doubts is an introspective journey for another day. What matters is after a 100-race winless drought — two full seasons and nearly an entire third regular season — and the constant reminders he's yet to secure what would be just his second NASCAR Cup series playoff berth, Wallace can race the rest of this year and well into the future knowing he's taken the next step in his career. He slayed the dragon, snapped the streak and captured his first Crown Jewel with Sunday's Brickyard 400 victory, becoming the first Black driver to win on the IMS oval 'Does anyone know where the goalposts got moved to now? Anybody? Did they get moved yet? Oh, that's right, it was rigged. Of course,' Wallace chided in his post-race news conference, a reference to the ways in which the stockcar world's most high-profile active Black driver is held to what he believes to be either unreasonable or unfair standards by some when he falters, combined with the ways in which his successes are knocked down a peg, too. 'You're gonna have people boo you, and you're going to have people cheer you. I had a guy today call me a 'punk.' Well, punks get trophies, I guess. 'I like to have fun with the fans, and it is what it is, but I really do appreciate the support, deep down, as a guy who used to struggle with the boos and wonder 'Why?' It's just sports, and people are going to have the drivers they like and the drivers they hate, the drivers they want to see win and the drivers they want to see crash. But you've just got to go out a compete.' Entering Sunday's race, Denny Hamlin, one of the co-owners of Wallace's No. 23 Toyota, took notice of what was rounding into a notably impressive race weekend for his 31-year-old driver who had shown flashes on the IMS oval in his career but never quite been able to put it all together. Wallace started Sunday afternoon sharing the front row with Hamlin's own Joe Gibbs Racing teammate Chase Briscoe, and as Hamlin fought tooth and nail to claw his way up from a last-place starting spot earned from a Saturday qualifying crash, he noted the way in which Wallace's No. 23 continued to hang around the top of the pylon. But to be frank, this wasn't his race … until it was, as race leader Joey Logano suffered a blown tire while leading on Lap 134 of 160, Wallace trailing behind in second. All a sudden, the two-time NASCAR Cup series race winner — whose pair of wins had never come over the course of the regular season — held the lead of the Brickyard 400 with the final round of pit stops complete and ticking by. With six laps to go and the field largely strung out, as they so often get around what some in the NASCAR community call the 2.5-mile rectangle that has hosted few race-altering passes not off restarts in recent years, Wallace looked as if he was going to win walking away, leading defending Brickyard 400 winner Kyle Larson by four seconds or more. And then, trundling through Turns 1 and 2, he saw his tires kick up water. 'My last time through, I thought to myself, 'OK then …'' Wallace said. The yellow lights flashed, quickly followed by the red, and down pit lane he drove, reflections on the way in which his breakthrough victory four years ago at Talladega came — via a rain-shortened race fiercely panned by his detractors — quickly, if not briefly, becoming top of mind. ''Here we go again. If it rains (a bunch), then Lord have mercy, Twitter's gonna blow up,'' Wallace remembered he said to himself. 'And then, it changed to this. 'I really want to win this straight up. I want to go back to racing.' So I was content with it going on. Bummed we gave up the lead. 'And then once I saw it was Larson (who he'd be restarting next to), I knew I'd have to roll my sleeves up. He won here last year. He's arguably the best in the field, and I have no problem saying that. I respect the hell out of what he does and how he drives. He pushes us all to be that good, and so to be the best, we had to beat the best today, and we came out on top.' It all sounds so prophetic now, but Wallace said Sunday morning felt eerily different as he roamed the grounds of IMS and readied himself for what in five or 10 years he might look back upon as a career-altering success for the 23XI driver. Derived by daily readings from a micro-meditation book called "The Daily Stoic" and the realities of parenthood with his baby boy Becks born in September, Wallace said he spends much of life nowadays with a reframed mindset that his life inside the cockpit is not his life alone. Whenever this job he gleefully calls little more than a hobby ends there will be a life afterwards — one filled with the joys, weights and responsibilities of parenthood and marriage that already exist. And so sometime in the last 12 to 18 months or so, Wallace said he recalibrated in a way in which managed to become more driven, but also the calmest, most even-keeled version of his professional self — a switch flip that Hamlin noted. 'His peaks and valleys, he shallowed that up to where his valleys weren't as lot, and I think it seems like on the bad days, he's able to compartmentalize that and think about the positives vs. everything sucks all the time, because that's a tough way to live,' Hamlin said. 'We're in a business where if you can win 5% of the time, you're a Hall of Famer. You're gonna lose. This is a losing business, and you've got to find happiness in something other than actually winning. 'When I hired Bubba, I believed in his capabilities — not necessarily the results that he'd shown, but I understood his potential. And then there was a time where we were wrestling with, 'Man, do I want it worse than him?' I can't make him want it. That's going to have to come from within. So what I'm hoping is this shows him that hard work pays off, and hopefully we see more of this.' What was clear within Wallace's internal monologue midday Sunday was this: He wanted it ever so badly, and not just the victory and its monkey-off-back and playoff berth implications, but for what the opportunity of success at the Racing Capital of the World invites. In his speech during Sunday's drivers' meeting, IMS president Doug Boles remarked on how the track was celebrating Dale Earnhardt Sr.'s win in the second running of the event 30 years ago, and how 10 and 20 years after, drivers we now view as modern-day legends of the sport, Tony Stewart in 2005 and Kyle Busch in 2015, triumphed, too. 'I felt different walking into that drivers' meeting and finding a seat by myself, pulling out my phone and looking at my race notes, and when (Doug) was speaking, he mentioned that little caveat, and I thought it was interesting,' Wallace said. ''This could be the start of becoming a legend.' 'Now, I don't think I'm a legend in my own mind. I've got a lot of work to do, but it all starts with days like today.' And so therein lay the confidence that managed to slay the doubts that ever so routinely surfaced as Wallace sat through an 18-minute red flag, followed by the slow trundle of additional caution laps and then not one late-race green-white-checkered restart, but two. As he characterized it, Wallace 'caught everybody sleeping on the initial overtime and wielded a comfortable lead coming down the back straight when his 23XI teammate Tyler Reddick and Zane Smith got tangled up and forced the field into a do-over. Now sitting dangerously low on fuel — so much so that a third restart likely would've forced him into the pits and left him outside the top 20, Sunday's race winner dug deeper into his proverbial toolbox, re-racked and rolled off again. 'Those last 20 laps, it was probably 20 laps of me telling myself I'm not going to be able to do it, and so I found my biggest problem, and that's that if I could shut that off fully, we could do a lot more of this,' he said. 'I really thought this year started out way different than any other, and mentally it has, but here we were in the same spot before the race. 'Is Bubba Wallace going to make it into the playoffs?' Like, 'Damn, dude, is it me?' 'There's a lot of expectations on you to deliver with this team we have at 23XI, with having the right people and the right sponsors. It takes everybody at (the shop) to have days and moments like this, and so there's a certain expectation level to win. To not be able to for almost three years, you really start to doubt yourself and wonder, 'Wow, really is this it?' After this contract is up, is this it?' I still have a couple years left now, but hopefully this gives me at least another year more.'
Yahoo
5 hours ago
- Yahoo
Dwight Muhammad Qawi, boxer who went from prison to champion, dies at 72
CAMDEN, N.J. (AP) — Dwight Muhammad Qawi, the Hall of Fame fighter who took up boxing in prison and became a two-weight world champion, has died. He was 72. Qawi's sister, Wanda King, said he died Friday following a five-year battle with dementia. Born Dwight Braxton in Baltimore, Qawi grew up in Camden. He competed in the boxing program at Rahway State Prison while serving a sentence for armed robbery, and turned professional at age 25 soon after his release in 1978. In December 1981, Qawi — who legally changed his name in 1982 following his conversion to Islam — stopped Matthew Saad Muhammad in the 10th round to win the WBC light heavyweight belt. Qawi stopped Saad again eight months later, taking six rounds. After a loss Michael Spinks, the 5-foot-7 Qawi — called 'The Camden Buzzsaw' — moved up in weight and took the WBA cruiserweight title from Piet Crous in July 1985. Qawi lost the title to future heavyweight champion Evander Holyfield in a 15-rounder in July 1986. Qawi later fought as a heavyweight, with George Foreman stopping him in seven rounds. Qawi retired in 1998 at age 46 with a 41-11-1 record and 25 knockouts. He was inducted into the International Boxing Hall of Fame in 2004. After his retirement from the ring, he worked as a boxing trainer, youth advocate and drug and alcohol counselor. ___ AP sports:
