They're intertwined, the life of Carmel Valley, Calif., resident Mike Haynes and the money-obsessed, loyalty-be-damned wanderlust of this day's NFL.
He cemented his name as a game-changing cornerback for the Raiders, who will shuttle their slot receivers to the slot machine din of Las Vegas. He lives in San Diego, where the Chargers surrendered more than a half century of history for the irrelevance of over-saturated Los Angeles. The Hall of Famer grew up in L.A., which continues to sort its feelings about the rickety return of the Rams.
It's hard to imagine someone more connected to the NFL's wandering eye.
That doesn't mean the man who leverages football stories to raise awareness about the American Urological Association's "Know Your Stats" campaign that combats prostate cancer saw the chaos coming.
"No, not at all," said Haynes, who was inducted into Canton in 1997. "I would have had a hard time thinking about all of that happening. It's just a reminder that the NFL is a business. I think a lot of people forget that. I know I do, on occasion."
Haynes provides a unique window into a game that grew from mere sport into a multi-billion-dollar corporation, testing cheering wants and civic wills that stretch from Baltimore to Balboa Park.
The NFL once fueled imaginations with stars like Gale Sayers and Johnny Unitas. Now it stokes modern-day vocabularies, forcing premium seat licenses and franchise valuations into everyday conversations. The thing that delightfully delivered Jerry Rice now serves up Jerry Jones. Then, Stan Humphries. Now, Stan Kroenke.
Innocence is more than lost. We couldn't find it with a locker room full of smart-phone apps.
"We'll look back at this as a key moment in NFL history," said Haynes, 63, a nine-time Pro Bowler with 46 interceptions and a Super Bowl ring from the Raiders' 38-9 rout of Washington in 1984.
"There will be lessons learned from this, about moving, about the communities, about what happened when they left."
An uncomfortable education includes the realization that we've never felt more disconnected from the game of our youth. The time of Bambi and Butkus long ago wilted to the whims of the rich, who often become more famous than their workforce.
Teams have moved 10 times in the last 35 years, though never with such flurry. More has vanished, in Haynes estimation, than stadium mailing addresses.
"What I've always loved about professional franchises is what they add to the community," said Haynes, who paired with Lester Hayes on the Raiders to form arguably the greatest cornerback duo in history. "In L.A., they were all pretty active in the community."
Haynes recalled seeing Lakers and Dodgers at Bellevue Park just northwest of downtown L.A.
"You'd see guys at the park like Jerry West and Elgin Baylor," Haynes said. "They'd come up and say, 'Hey, you kids go to school and work hard and make something special out of your life.' What I didn't realize at the time was how special it was to talk to those guys. Guys of that character and quality, guys I really looked up to, those kinds of interactions were key."
That's fading in San Diego, where Chargers often mixed with the community at school and charity events.
"If a Chargers player really wanted to make sure an inner-city kid was getting support and get a college education, he could work with a local charity," Haynes said. "He could do that from L.A., but it's not the same thing."
Sometimes those moments became irreversibly etched for other reasons.
"I remember being a kid at a pickup game at LACC, the community college by my mom's house," Haynes said. "These stars are playing and I go, 'Wow, that's Sandy Koufax' _ and he's cussing like a sailor."
All of it _ the famous, the funny, the unforgettable _ signal what NFL teams mean to a cities. Losing that, be it in San Diego or rival Oakland, forges a painful kinship.
Haynes never imagined the Raiders would link with Sin City.
"When I first heard it I thought, 'No way. The league will never allow it to happen' (because of the gambling connection)," he said. "Twelve months later, I've done a total flip. I started thinking about it. I'd gone to the Super Bowl and talked to some NFL executives and there's a lot of interest in growing football globally.
"So one of the best things they could do was have a team there where they could attract different markets. You can imagine people coming in bucket-loads to Vegas."
The new NFL, with its new realities, causes Haynes to pause.
"I really feel sorry for the fans," he said. "I go back to the days with the great Chargers teams. They'd sing that crazy song all the time (San Diego Super Chargers). I hated that so much. Those fans were great, though. You lose that.
"But hey, it's a business, right?"
Unfortunately.
