The Raiders Picked the Wrong Time to Wish Jimmy Garoppolo a Happy Birthday on the Internet

Jorge Lemus. Shutterstock Images.

It's stating the obvious to say that social media has forever changed the way we follow sports. Its creation has affected everything in our world, right down to the way our brains and biology function, so how could the way we consume popular entertainment possibly be any different?

For instance, back when Al Davis was still running everything with the Raiders, he didn't have a social media department. Hell, he probably didn't have a communications department. If Al wanted to get a message out to the public, he picked up the landline on his desk, told his secretary to get Peter King or Will McDonough on the line, and told them what he wanted to say. Just got it off his nylon jumpsuit-clad chest:

Al Pereira. Getty Images.

If he liked a player, he'd pay him what was to him the ultimate compliment: He'd call the guy a Raider. And if he had no use for a player, he'd tell him to his face he's a pussy and release or trade him. There was no ambiguity with Al. American Sniper never shot as straight as he did.

Like virtually ever other American institution, honesty is in decline in the social media age. So is pro football ownership. And nowhere is that dropoff more dramatic than in the gap between how Al did it and how the team his son inherited does it. Because in a tumultuous week of dysfunction, chaos, and turmoil, this is the messaging the Raiders socials are churning out:

I get it. You get it. This is how it's done now, league wide. It's the way the game has been played. These accounts all treat players like 8-year-olds on mom's Facebook. "I can't believe how big you've gotten! I'm so proud of my cutie QB!!!" And like with kids, you can't pick and choose. If you do it for a Maxx Crosby or a Josh Jacobs, you've got to do it for Jimmy Garoppolo. Even if precisely 0.0 Raiders fans in any of the three cities they've called home want to hear it right now. 

The problem is, when you post something this tone deaf, right after you got teabagged on national TV, had 77 net passing yards, and fired your coach and GM halfway through their second seasons on the job, don't be surprised if your fans are in no mood for a Laser Tag and Pizza party at the Fun Center. And thousands of reminders from them and from every market in the league that the X/Twitter door swings both ways. Making for a Very Ratio'ed Birthday:

Ah, but the Al Davises of the league lived in a simpler, more direct time. When, if an employee tried to celebrate the birthday of someone playing on a $72 million contract who was heading to the bench, he'd have had security throw that out-of-work loser onto the sidewalk within minutes. But his billionaire son is in a hot tub with two showgirls from Donny Osmond's residency show at Harrah's, lighting Cuban cigars with $100 bills, utterly oblivious of what he's done to his father's proud legacy. As G. Michael Hopf put it,  "Hard times create strong men. Strong men create good times. Good times create weak men. And, weak men create hard times."

Anyway, Happy Birthday to Jimmy G. If that's even remotely possible.