Inside the Raiders: Why I’m shedding my objectivity and hoping for Hall of Fame call for Flores, Woodson

I’ve got a partisan interest Saturday night, and it only took 40 years.

I’m rooting for Tom Flores and Charles Woodson to make the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

Not because it will mean two more former Raiders to get busts in Canton, Ohio.

Not because Flores won two Super Bowls, owned winning records against several Hall of Fame coaches and presided over two transition periods which would have tested the mettle of anyone from Vince Lombardi to Bill Walsh. Or because Flores is a trailblazer in that he was a prominent Latino quarterback and head coach.

Not because Woodson is decorated in a way that only the all-time greats aspire to, ranking fifth in interceptions (65) tied for first in defensive touchdowns (13), was named as an NFL Defensive Rookie of the Year in 1998 and Defensive Player of the Year in 2009. Or because Woodson passed the eye test of being a transcendent talent so gifted it was impossible to take your eyes off him.

The votes have already been cast, and those enshrined will be rolled out gradually during the NFL Honors broadcast Saturday night (6 p.m. PST) on CBS.

I’ve got a pretty good feeling it’s going to happen, with Flores needing an 80 percent vote of 40 selectors on a yes-or-no basis as the nominee of the Coach Committee, which means he’s not running against current players that this year includes Woodson, Peyton Manning and Calvin Johnson for the first time.

As for Woodson, he was so good I half-seriously wondered if his presenter would just give his name, have a seat and assume he’d be elected by acclamation.

I’ve fielded questions in emails and blogs for years from Raiders fans about whether I’m a fan, and my standard response is other than the various baseball teams my son played on through high school and college, the answer is an unequivocal no.

I’ll compliment, be critical, analyze and have an opinion, but have always stayed detached in terms of having an emotional stake in the outcome.

But I’d be less than honest if I didn’t admit to having more respect and admiration for some people I deal with than others. Flores and Woodson happen to be at the top of the list, and they could both wind up being honored on the same night.

Flores, 83, has been turned away twice, and there’s no guarantee he’d get another chance through the coach committee if he doesn’t make it this time. For Woodson, it’s inevitable.

Football has had its share of coaches who seem to view themselves as something beyond that, as if they cured cancer as opposed to coaxing the maximum out of grown men to run and hit with abandon.

Yet Flores, who I’ve known since the Raiders returned to Oakland in 1995, has never carried it that way. He could walk through a grocery store and no one would notice he was there. His sideline demeanor was the polar opposite of his predecessor John Madden, and there was always the omnipresent shadow of Al Davis, who was the owner while Flores was 83-53 in nine seasons not including 8-3 in the playoffs with Super Bowl championships following the 1980 and 1983 seasons.

It would be hard to imagine two better prepared teams than the ones that beat the Philadelphia Eagles in Super Bowl XV and Washington in Super Bowl XVIII, with the placid Flores in the center of a hurricane with Davis as the owner and huge personalities in the locker room.

When I wrote a column two years ago why Flores’ induction was warranted, I got emails from former neighbors in the Bay Area who for the longest time had no idea the polite, unassuming man was head coach of the Raiders.

That’s why I liked the Coors Light campaign and commercials, which got it right in terms of portraying Flores how he is, including a trace of deadpan humor.

Woodson, by contrast, has always been the center of attention since winning the Heisman Trophy at Michigan as a defensive player and the No. 4 overall draft pick by the Raiders. He was charismatic, supremely confident in his own ability and refreshingly blunt and honest when posed a question.

Yet when Woodson left the Raiders in 2005, the Hall of Fame didn’t seem possible. He’d been slowed not only by injuries, but a scheme which too often left him on the outside looking in as far as playmaking as well as his own issues with maturity.

It wasn’t until Woodson reluctantly landed in Green Bay in 2006 that his career went into overdrive at age 30. In seven seasons with the Packers, Woodson had 38 of his 65 interceptions, 10 of his 13 touchdowns and won a Super Bowl championship.

When he returned to the Raiders in 2015, Woodson may have been the most respected player in the NFL by his peers. He was married, had two sons and prepared in a way he seldom did during his first tenure with the Raiders. Outside of football, Woodson established a clinical research fund for children’s diseases at Michigan for children.

As the lone media member who had witnessed both the beginning of Woodson’s career and the end, it was remarkable to see his transformation — all while retaining his sense of confidence and honesty.

Oh, and he could still play — making a Pro Bowl as a safety at age 39.

A few days before Woodson announced his retirement, I approached him in the locker room and told him it had been a privilege to see him both early and late in his career and to thank him for being so candid in good times and bad. It’s something I’d never done and probably won’t again. He seemed genuinely appreciative.

While Flores got his picture on cans of beer, Woodson has gone on to winemaking and has his own line of bourbon.

I’m hoping to raise a glass to both men Saturday night.