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Craig Allen Long
March 24, 1970 - February 10, 2007
March 24, 1970 - February 10, 2007
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Speech given by Adam Treu at the Salinas Funeral Service
| "Craig Long, A Difference Maker" As quoted by Rich Gannon, 2002 NFL MVP |
Adam Treu
Former Oakland Raider (Center), Craig’s riding buddy and great friend
As some of you know, I play football for the Oakland Raiders. I have been with the raiders for ten
years as their long snapper and center. I was drafted in 1997; the very same year Craig joined the
Raiders. Like Craig, I was born and raised a Midwestern boy but in Nebraska, which some people say
is Iowa’s richer, better-looking cousin. I attended the University of Nebraska to play football for the
“real” big red, the Cornhuskers. Because of Craig’s deep and abiding affection for the Oklahoma
Sooners it would seem ironic that he and I would become good friends. My instant affection for Craig
shattered the decades-old stereotype that Husker and Sooner fans can’t, and shouldn’t mix.
The first philanthropic event Craig and I attended was a literacy event at a local elementary school. The
story I was to read was “Green Eggs and Ham,” by Dr. Seuss. I remembered the story from when I
was little, but I didn’t quite remember what a tongue twister it was. Needless to say I butchered the
story and al I could think was that Craig finally had the necessary proof that Huskers were dumb. But
during the ride home, Craig, in his typically kind and positive manner, reassured me Dr. Seuss was a
very tough read.
Because I lived in the bay area during the off-season I was afforded opportunities to spend time with
Craig and his roommates and Raiders coworkers, Jack and Pete. I would show up at their house with a
twelve pack, some meat for the grill and ready for the typical discussions that spring from a night
hanging with the boys. You know, deep, soulful conversations about football, ESPN, the best cordless
drill and the merits of gas-versus-charcoal grilling. My expectations for the night would quickly
dissipate, as Craig would inevitably pop in the latest bootleg copy of Royal Rumble from the WWF.
Hours of watching wrestling would soon commence and because I was no scholar of professional
wrestling nor was I privy to what had happened during the last Rumble, I would start heading for the
door. But Craig was a student of the game; the depth of his wrestling knowledge bottomless. He could
name the heavyweight champion; the tag team champions, the girls-on-the-side-of-the-ring champions
and he felt it was his duty to educate me.
It was during one of these sessions I believe; Craig received one of his many nicknames. It was decided
if Craig were to ever become a professional wrestler; his name would be “The Head.” Some folks in
Raider land said this nickname fit because Craig had a large sized head. But I think the nickname was
deserved because Craig’s signature move as “The Head” would be to ram his block into his opponent in
such a way that combatant would be instantly beat. It would be the most glorious move, one not even
Craig himself could completely fathom. This matter of the size of his head would later surface when
Craig started riding his motorcycle because riding required a helmet. Would he be able to find one to fit?
I had always wanted a Harley Davidson and my wife Tracy agreed to this purchase with one
stipulation; could get one when the Raiders made it to the playoffs. Since my rookie season record
stood at 4-12 and the next two seasons at 8-8, she believed my big plans to become a Harley owner
would never materialize. Then we started to win and my dream became a reality. Little did I know that
Craig also had a passion for riding the wind. Craig confided to me he was thinking of buying one too,
playoffs or not. More chances for a Sooner and Husker to bond. We would soon be able to get on our
steel horses and take off any time we wanted. With not a care in the world, we would have loads of fun
touring the highways and byways of this great state. I imagined us to be the more modern versions of
Peter Fonda and Dennis Hopper in Easy riders. Well, none of that happened for at least a year. Turns
out Craig and I weren’t very experienced riders. Each of us enrolled in a motorcycle safety class that
educated us on the dos and don’ts of riding. We spent the next few months practicing in a parking lot
full of lines and cones and through the slow streets of Alameda. We weren’t even allowed to ride at
night. After practicing a coupe of months we both received our certification in the mail. That piece of
paper allowed up to go to the DMV and pick up our licenses. We were so proud to finally have them
in hand.
A fellow Raider player, John Parella, also had a motorcycle. The three of us spent a lot of time talking
about bikes and what we wanted to add to them to make them faster and cooler. Like kids talking about
the latest JCPenney’s Christmas catalogue, we would sit around the Raiders locker room or cafeteria
discussing what we were going to get, even if we knew none of it would become a reality. Because John
lived in Pleasanton, which wasn’t far from the freeway, Craig decided that he and Allison’s house wasn’
t far from the freeway, Craig and I decided his house would be a fitting destination for our first ride
together. Wow, what an experience cruising down the highway in the far right lane at speeds neither of
us cold have dreamed of. We rode side-by-side, ala Ponch and John from that 1980’s show CHiPs. I
will never forget the huge smile on Criag’s face when he was on his Harley. We would look at each
other and grin and then back to the pavement in front of us because our instructor told us to never take
our eyes off of the road. We arrived at John’s and as soon as we dismounted we laughed and talked
about how incredibly cool we were. Our Hogs were the greatest. Being on them with the wind in our
face, the smell of exhaust and the bugs in our teeth. There was nothing in the world that compared.
John knew a few more guys with bikes who were joining us for the afternoon; Jim, Rich, Larry, Bill
and Wayne. They arrived and we discussed the route we were going to take. I suggested we take a less-
traveled one with very few curves. Craig looked at me like I was crazy and fearlessly suggested we take
the twisting, scenic route through the hills South of Livermore that would eventually spit us out into
Tracy. With some apprehension I agreed and it turned out to be a wonderful inaugural trip for the two
of us.
There were a number of these rides over the next few years. It not only gave us a chance to unleash our
macho power on the road but the time to talk about the events of our lives since our last excursion. It
didn’t take many of these rides to discover Craig had turned into a throttle-happy rev monger. It didn’t
matter if we were stopped at a stoplight or going under an overpass, he would look over at whomever
was beside him, grin, put his bike in neutral and rip the throttle. This would create a deafening noise for
every bike or car behind him. It was hilarious. He was also the one who wanted to race everyone in the
group. If we were stopped at a stoplight the person who pulled up beside him was going to get a run
for his money. Craig would look over at them and smile and as the light changed the race was on. The
two bikes would lurch off the line and have at it to the next stop. I don’t know what his win loss
record was bit it didn’t matter. His smile was priceless.
Because of a shared past experience with the Oakland Chapter of the Hell’s Angels and an invitation to
their St. Patrick’s Day Party, we soon deemed ourselves the “Foothill Riders.” But unlike the real Hell’
s Angels, our rides would end with a visit to Fenton’s Ice Cream Shop on Piedmont Avenue in one of
Oakland’s nicer neighborhoods. Some guys ordered hamburgers and some of us coffee and Craig? He
promptly ordered a triple scoop of bubblegum ice cream. Yet another nickname was born. Bubblegum.
Though we wanted desperately to believe it, we knew we would never become the super menacing,
black leather-clad bikers terrorizing the streets of Oaktown by sitting at Fenton’s enjoying our ice cream
treats.
Craig’s ability to banter was easily his most likeable quality. He could take a ribbing as easily as he
could dish it and that is what drew people towards him. He put up no boundaries and though he
possessed the intelligence, poise and success very few have at his young age, he had no arrogance about
him. If he had to track down one of the more high profile members of the Raiders to persuade him to do
a story he would, and without fail, get it done. I’m sure that is why the local media loved him; Craig
could get anything done for them in moment’s notice and do it professionally and perfectly. Craig was
so well liked and held in such high esteem by me and other players because of his ability to lift others
up without having to be on top. It will be a very long time before I stop looking for him in the front
parking lot of the Raiders headquarters as he films his next segment of “On The Edge with Craig Long.”
I will forever remember his standard greeting of “What’s Up. Brother?” and I now know he is up; up
where I imagine they have the fastest and loudest bikes, where the Sooners never loose and the
wrestling matches are endless.
Allison, among the many gifts Craig possessed, you were his greatest gift. It is an understatement to
say he was taken away from you much too early. May his love and his legacy live on through you,
Ava and her little sister. When she enters this world in June, she does so with Craig’s guidance from
above. May the deep adoration he felt for you and his daughter wrap you in peace and comfort. You
were easily the best thing that ever happened to him and may knowing this sustain you.