Fans who spend their lives rooting for one team in one town and listening only to the hometown announcers don’t have much of a basis for comparison of the men and women behind the microphones.  As a kid in Cleveland, after the Indians’ games I’d catch a few innings when atmospheric conditions were right from games on WJR in Detroit, WLW in Cincinnati, KDKA in Pittsburgh and KMOX in St. Louis. But I didn’t listen critically, and during football season I only listened to the Browns’ games. It was and remains harder to catch a distant football broadcast on radio, as most games are played during the day when AM signals are limited.

With the advent of satellite radio, fans have an opportunity to listen to broadcasts from other markets. I listened to enough broadcasts on XM Radio the past two baseball seasons to get a sense of the best, such as Bob Uecker on the Brewers network and the John “Yankees win” Sterling. (My opinion is certainly burnished by having lived in both markets, listening to each over several seasons.)

XM has also exposed the “homers” who are shills for their teams and those whose delivery leaves me cold or at least unmoved.

I don’t have access to the other teams’ NFL broadcasts, so my football impressions are based primarily on local broadcasts as I’ve moved around the country. I always catch the 49ers and often take in Raiders’ games – at least until I can no longer stand the pain. Which leads me to the point of this post: Gary Plummer (pictured at right from his days as a 49ers linebacker) must rate as one of the finest color men in professional sports.

In his smooth baritone voice, he consistently offers clear, honest, rational commentary. He praises each team on the field when they deserve it and, just as even-handedly, criticizes the failings of each. He brings his experience from his playing days to the booth, but it never overshadows what’s happening on the field.

I wish all football fans had a chance to hear him.

Hardly a week goes by when some pro isn’t whining about his wretched lot and demanding to be traded from a team that doesn’t sufficiently suck up to his skills and whims. Last year Jay Cutler could no longer stomach the Denver Broncos and by continual harangues orchestrated his way to the Chicago Bears.

Whining about your misfortune seems almost a requirement in the NBA, where a decade ago we had the famous case of Latrell Sprewell trying to strangle coach P.J. Carlissimo of the Golden State Warriors. Sprewell was dealt to the New York Knicks and kept playing. The Warriors, in fact, seem to have more than their share of the tempermental. Chris Webber famously bullied his way off the team in the mid-90s, and this year Stephen Jackson wanted out and got it.

It’s the same in baseball and football, where top college players have turned up their noses at some NFL franchises even before the draft.

Could any of us get away with this kind of behavior in our workplaces or communities?

“Sorry, boss, I don’t want to work evenings.”

“Either I decide my own assignments or you’re going to have to put me in a better job at a better location.”

“I’m sorry, officer, but my husband is asleep and isn’t available to answer your questions about how at 2:30 in the morning he ran over the fire hydrant and crashed into the neighbors’ tree.”

This is the point at which I’d normally conclude by saying “Give me a break.” But I’m not eligible for such. I don’t make enough money.

Thanksgiving Day in America means turkey, cranberries and football, not necessarily in that order. The Detroit Lions and Dallas Cowboys have been featured on national TV for as long as I can remember, and both teams will be in action this year.

I’ll be paying more attention to the Cowboys’ game against the Oakland Raiders, who will start Bruce Gradkowski (at right) at quarterback for the second game in a row.

Living just outside the San Francisco Bay area, I’ve become a student of bad and underperforming football teams in recent years. The Raiders and San Francisco 49ers have introduced high-hype first-round draft picks at QB in that time, and the teams have sputtered. I’ve been drawn to their less-heralded backups, Gradkowski and Shaun Hill for the Niners. When they’re playing, their teams move the ball and, at least in Hill’s case, win more often than not. It’ll take a few more games before we see how the Silver & Black perform with Gradkowski leading the way.

Speaking of the Silver & Black, here’s an unadulterated plug for the Silver & Black blog written by a friend and colleague who’s followed the Raiders for years. He actually knows what he’s talking about when it comes to pro football, as he actually goes to the games. I can only give you the armchair perspective.

Pro football is a fickle business. Shaun Hill won the San Francisco 49ers’ starting quarterback job with strong performances during the latter half of the 2008 season. He prevailed over Alex Smith in the exhibition season this summer and the team got off to a fast start.

But they played terribly against the Atlanta Falcons. Even after their bye week, the Niners were listless against the Houston Texans in the first half Sunday. So Coach Mike Singletary made a change, inserting Smith into the lineup.

And pow! The Niners scored three touchdowns and were seemingly on their way to a fourth when the Texans intercepted the ball to preserve a 24-21 victory.

Now today comes word that Smith will start the next game. The starting job is his to lose.

And the way things go in the NFL, he will lose the job eventually – to Hill or to some other quarterback who comes along.

I was lukewarm to Smith when the Niners picked him up as a top draft pick a few years back. He was inconsistent whereas with Hill at the controls, the 49ers seemed to move the ball. Hill isn’t flashy, but the team won more often than not.

I give Smith tremendous credit. He has not sulked or demanded a trade or trashed his organization — as so many multimillionaire malcontents do. He’s kept his focus, and he was ready when called.

Even more, he delivered.

In the brutal world of the NFL, that matters most.

We doubted his word. We doubted his motives. But as the Minnesota Vikings have surged to a 4-0 record this season, no one doubts that Brett Favre has the drive and the talent to succeed for his new team. Favre shone again Monday night as the Vikes defeated his old team, the Green Bay Packers, 30-23.

I’m betting the TV ratings for the game were high as curious Americans tuned in to watch Favre attack the Pack. Although he wore his familiar No. 4 jersey, it was purple instead of the usual Packers’ green and gold. Didn’t matter. Favre performed like a man half his 40 39 years of age.

I wasn’t surprised. A week ago, I watched Favre shred the San Francisco secondary on a last-minute drive that he punctuated with a 32-yard touchdown strike to the end zone with 2 seconds left.

I lived in Wisconsin during the Bart Starr coaching era when the Packers were awful. At the time I appreciated the Packers for their heritage but could not fully embrace the team. In recent years the Pack returned to some measure of glory, and Favre deservedly got much of the credit.

The Monday night loss to the rival Vikings will be even more bitter for Packers fans, who rightly felt jilted and betrayed when Favre “retired” only to sign last season with the New York Jets. His outrageous, teasing courtship dance with Vikings over the summer makes his performance with them in this first quarter of the season even more remarkable.

Call him what you will. But Brett Favre has delivered on his promise.

A tip of the cap to the National Football League, which is raising awareness about breast cancer this week with its “Crucial Catch” campaign. In partnership with the American Cancer Society, the league is encouraging women – especially those over the age of 40 – to get yearly screenings to detect breast cancer as early as possible. As part of the campaign, NFL coaches are wearing caps with pink bills (as shown by Bears coach Lovie Smith in this Chicago Tribune photo) and the players are wearing pink gloves. I thought I saw a few pink shoes flashing by in the Oakland-Houston game, at least on the Texans. The Raiders weren’t moving very fast.

It’s not easy being silver and black. The Oakland Raiders, one of the most intimidating and successful franchises in the history of professional football, are reeling. On so many Sundays the past few years, the Raiders have been outplayed and outclassed. Since 2002, when they last won an AFC title and appeared in the Super Bowl, they haven’t posted a winning record. I didn’t realize how bad it was until I checked the stats — the Raiders haven’t won more than five games in any season since.

With the way the team has played this season, six victories seems like a tall order.  A colleague who has season tickets (and writes a fine Raiders blog) said the fans in the Black Hole at the Oakland Coliseum relentlessly booed quarterback JaMarcus Russell on Sunday as the Broncos embarrassed the Raiders 23-3.

This is pitiful football. My Raiders’ credentials are a bit tenuous, but I have enough of a connection to justify a few observations. Growing up in the snowbound Eastern time zone, I watched a lot of Raiders games from the West Coast after the Browns wrapped up. The Raiders in those days were Daryle Lamonica and Fred Biletnikoff, Ken Stabler and Cliff Branch, not to mention scores of outstanding defensive backs and linemen both sides of the ball.

When the team returned to Oakland from exile in Los Angeles, I lived in Alameda – where Al Davis & Co. set up their corporate home. My kids’ high school manned concession booths at home games as a fund-raiser. While I saw little action on the field, I poured plenty of beers for the fans. The early years in Oakland Phase Two were mediocre, but the team had passionate backers who knew better times lay ahead.

For maddening contrast, today’s Raiders fans need only look across San Francisco Bay to see how the 49ers are resurrecting their program. I wish I had a solution for the Raiders, who for so many years found a way to win. Right now, the fabled “Commitment to Excellence” has a hollow ring to it.

Matthew Stafford

The Detroit Lions are feeling mighty pleased today. They chose Georgia quarterback Matthew Stafford as the No. 1 pick of the NFL draft. He’s shown at right, sporting the new Lions’ logo on his cap.

The Lions made a big fuss the other  day in announcing the logo, which is supposed to represent a fiercer look. Maybe, maybe not. They couldn’t do any worse than they did last season with the old logo.

As for Stafford, I know nothing more than that he was touted as the catch of the draft. All I can say to that is, “Good luck, Mr. Stafford, and good luck, Detroit.”

My years as a football fan are littered with busted first-round QBs. Exhibit A is Mike Phipps, for whom the Cleveland Browns gave up wide receiver Paul Warfield in a move stunning in its stupidity, even by Cleveland standards (See, Colavito for Kuenn). Farther west and more recently, the San Francisco 49ers put all their draft eggs in the Alex Smith basket, and that, to say the least, has not been a picnic.

If any NFL team wants to pay me what Stafford is reportedly getting – $41 million, give or take a few thou – my services are available. But I’d settle for $1 million and a couple of ball caps.

John Madden announced today that he’s retiring from the broadcast booth, and that was major news.

Madden is one of the greatest football broadcasters of all time, and I’d rank him among the greatest sports broadcasters overall. His energy, enthusiasm and wit pair wonderfully with his knowledge of football and life at large.

He announced his retirement on KCBS radio in San Francisco, whose listeners over the years have received an extra helping of his analysis and larger-than-life persona. In my 10 years in California, I’ve listened to him hundreds of times. He never has failed to be entertaining, and he’s often more engaging on subjects other than football.

While the world knows him for his network broadcasts, his eponymous line of video football games and as coach of the Oakland Raiders, fewer people know that he played college football at Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo, Calif. My daughter and son-in-law are proud Poly graduates, and I’ve visited that terrific campus many times. Coincidentally, I was there earlier this week and snapped a photo of these caps with my iPhone.

So here’s a tip of the Mustang cap to John Madden. I wish him happy travels for the rest of his days.

The Thursday night game between the Redskins and Giants notwithstanding, today marks the real kickoff to the 2008 National Football League season. In celebration, I took my natty corduroy Cleveland Browns cap out into the warm California sun for a morning portrait.

Classic Cleveland Browns corduroy cap

I call this a classic Browns cap because it dates not from the present franchise but from the last years of the old Browns, the team that the sinsister Art Modell carted off to Baltimore to become the dead-to-me Ravens.

The original Browns started in the All American Football Conference that was folded into the NFL in the early 1950s. My early childhood centered on baseball, and football didn’t enter my consciousness until early grade school. In fact, my earliest pro football memory is of the day of the 1964 championship game in which the Browns defeated the Baltimore Colts (another team that would ultimately and appallingly be wrenched from the hearts of its fans). The game was blacked out on television in Cleveland, so my dad sent me to the attic to move our antenna around so we could catch the game on a Toledo station.

The demise of the old Browns roughly coincided with my move to California, where I’ve since attached my primary allegiance to the San Francisco 49ers and, given a few beers and the right opponent, the Oakland Raiders. I have not bonded with the new Browns, but should they advance to the playoffs, I’ll be pulling for them hard. And yeah, I want them to crush the Dallas Cowboys today.

In the meantime, I reserve my Browns cap mainly for the winter months, always hoping for the delightful contrast of white snowflakes settling on its rich brown bill.