That’s Weird: Why Hasn’t This Raiders Fan Stabbed Me Yet?

I’ve come totally prepared. It’s Sunday, I’m at a bar in Las Vegas, and there’s a Raiders fan sitting  right next to me. Now, there are always variables in any given Raiders fan situation: Switchblade or folding? Which hand will they use? Which famous Raiders defender’s name will this guy scream while he shivs me full of holes? But seeing as it’s already the middle of the third quarter, I’m now left with a much more unsettling question: why hasn’t this guy stabbed me yet?

When I came to Las Vegas, I packed two things: my Chiefs jersey, and a Kevlar vest. I’d already sung “Sweet Caroline” at Fenway and “Jumped Around” at Camp Randall Stadium, and I was looking forward to having the full Raiders experience. So far, though, I’ve spent two days here, and despite seeing dozens of silver-skull adorned certifiable psychopaths along the strip, not one of them have used their years of pent-up fury over supporting a mediocre team to ceremonially knife me in the sternum. What gives?

It’s gotten so bad that even when I leaned over to this guy and told him Derek Carr is overrated, all he did was curse me out. Verbal insults? What happened to the old, traditional Jim Plunkett Plunge or Marcus Allen Assault? Am I catching this team’s die-hards in a weird lull, or has moving to a new city miraculously turned the entire fanbase into a bunch of mentally stable, non-homicidal wusses?

This guy must be a bandwagon fan. That’s the only way you could possibly explain how someone rooting for a team with Al Davis’s famous “Just stab, baby!” quote inscribed on the statue of him outside the stadium can be just sitting there nursing a beer instead of bathing gloriously in my arterial spray. Truly disappointing.

I’ll give him five more minutes, and then I’m out. There’s a Cardinals bar across the street, so I can at least cross “being groped by a guy in a Lacoste shirt” off my bucket list.