Madden honored in Oakland, where Raiders legacy looms large

OAKLAND — The stadium is usually closed in February. And soon, it may be closed for good. But RingCentral Coliseum was open for one more Monday night in Oakland. For John Madden, whose silhouette brightened the night from the video board atop the iconic venue.

He wouldn’t have been bothered by the overcast skies that enveloped the area all morning and afternoon. Or the cool, damp air that reminded his son Mike so much of the November afternoons he’d spend in the stands or on the sidelines.

“It feels like the Dolphins are going to be coming out of that locker (room). Or the Steelers,” he said Monday before his late father’s memorial. “Like dad would say, ‘Good hitting weather.’ ”

Sounds about right.

Madden’s life was celebrated Monday night. At the stadium in which he coached. In the city he loved. And by the people who loved him. Smatterings of Raiders fans arrived hours before the ceremony began, taligating in the parking lot and tapping into nostalgia that still lingers in the Bay like the fog in the mornings.

The Raiders may be in Las Vegas, but their spirit still resides in Oakland — alongside that of the late football icon, who coached the franchise from 1969-78, called NFL games as a color commentator for more than three decades and died Dec. 28 at age 85.

The memorial was held at the Coliseum at the insistence of his widow, Virginia, who eulogized her late husband alongside a lineup of influential football figures including Andy Reid, Ron Rivera, Peyton Manning, Brett Favre, Al Michaels and Jim Nantz.

“I know he’s up there, and I know he’s smiling down on all of his players that are here,” she said. “John believes in the town of Oakland. He believes in the Coliseum. Most of all, he believed in the Raiders.”

Larger than life

Former Raiders offensive lineman Henry Lawrence said Madden was like a father figure and beautifully belted a tribuatary version of Dottie Rambo’s “He Looked Beyond My Faults.” Former NFL coach Steve Mariucci gushed about Madden’s other favorite sport, bocce ball.

His passion, Marucci explained, extended well beyond the confines of the gridiron.

Rivera recalled a conversation with Madden, during which he encouraged the Washington Commanders coach to trust his instincts. Hence, Riverboat Ron. Reid, now the coach of the rival Kansas City Chiefs endured a chorus of playful boos from the 750 or so spectators to honor one of his coaching idols.

“It’s great to be in the Black Hole,” he said, flashing a shy smile.

Favre and Manning shared their sentiments via video. As did Nantz and Michaels, with whom Madden called “Sunday Night Football” before retiring in 2009. The younger Madden punctuated the evening by explaining that on Sunday, he was at Super Bowl LVI.

“But tonight I’m in a football stadium.

“We knew we wanted to do a celebration of life,” he added. “(My dad) wanted to do it in Oakland. He loved Oakland.”

Oakland in his heart

Oakland loves Madden, too. And the Raiders.

The first “Raiders” chant Monday was rather isolated, boyish and shrill, reverberating through the empty stadium well before the memorial began. Other ones sporadically filled the silence, crescendoing into a cacophony at the end of the service and echoing into what’s becoming a sporting abyss.

Imagine how they sounded on those memorable November afternoons, Mike Madden remembers, with his father on the sidelines and the Raiders at their apex.

“It’s kind of sad walking out there knowing that this place is like a ghost town now,” Lawrence said, eluding to the Raiders’ departure and that, potentially, of the MLB’s Oakland Athletics. “But life goes on. … Coach Madden will always be a part of my life and me.”

The Raiders in that same sense will always be a part of Oakland as well.

“I believe in the Raiders. The Oakland Raiders,” Virginia Madden said, triggering, perhaps, the loudest ovation of the night. “Oakland needs a football team.”

Somewhere, her husband smiled.

Contact Sam Gordon at sgordon@reviewjournal.com. Follow @BySamGordon on Twitter.