Column: Los Angeles still feels like home to the Raiders, so the NFL should make it official

It was a season during which the NFL finally returned to Los Angeles, all the buzz surrounding one team, all title hopes pinned to one roster, many of the fans dressing up in one color.

But, well, the one team was the Oakland Raiders.

While the Rams played in front of booing fans at the Coliseum, the renewed Raiders played in front of packed living rooms from the South Bay to San Bernardino.

Where the Rams couldn’t dominate a discussion beyond their struggling quarterback and fired coach, the bluster over the Raiders’ starry lineup and smart leadership filled the Southland’s barber shops and sports bars.

The Rams’ honeymoon ended in September, while the Raiders party extended to an amazing Dec. 18 game in San Diego during which nearly the entire Qualcomm Stadium was colored silver and black.

“It’s crazy,’’ said Raiders linebacker Bruce Irvin at the time. “I’ve never been in an away stadium where the away fan base just took over the game like that.’’

That “away” fan base was mostly folks driving down from Los Angeles, and it’s finally time that their team’s power in the Southern California market be legitimized.

If the NFL really insists on bringing in a second team to share the Rams’ new stadium in Inglewood — and they might — they should know that the Raiders would be welcome.

The San Diego Chargers would have to first decline to exercise their Jan. 15 option to come to Los Angeles, allowing that option to roll over to the Raiders. It would have to then be clear that the Raiders could not make it work in Oakland. At that point, NFL owners should realize that, while Las Vegas is a nice attraction, Los Angeles is the only logical Raiders home, because in many ways it already is their home.

This is, yes, a complete change of heart from a columnist who has long railed against the return of a dysfunctional franchise with scary fans. But this is, indeed, the autumn that everything changed.

This is not the Al Davis team that left town in disgrace. This is a Mark Davis team that has seemingly cleaned up its act, from the Black Hole in the stands to the black hole of a front office.

The general manager-coach combination of Reggie McKenzie and Jack Del Rio is among the smartest and savviest in the league. The roster is deep and talented, witness them qualifying for the playoffs for the first time in 14 years. Even the infamous Black Hole fan base has become almost cuddly, their image transformed from dark-clad hooligans to long-suffering fans who just like to dress up. The Black Hole now has a website, sells T-shirts, does charity work and is even sponsored by both a beer and salsa company.

“The Raider fan base, as a whole, is positively sensational,’’ said Amy Trask, former Raiders chief executive, current CBS football analyst, and author of, “You Negotiate Like A Girl: Reflections On A Career In The National Football League. “I bristle when the focus is on the handful of knuckleheads and not the fan base as a whole.’’

During Trask’s final seasons with the Raiders, from where she resigned in 2013, she made it her mission to clean up the Black Hole, and it mostly worked. Today, Raiders season ticket-holders agree to a code of conduct, and one of the Black Hole rules is, “Don’t Bring No Crap.’’

It’s a shame those good Oakland folks are going to lose their team, but the O.co Coliseum is such a wreck, it already seems like a done deal. The Raiders will probably take this opportunity to leave and, really, finally, there seems no better place than Los Angeles.

“The team continues to have a tremendous, tremendous following throughout Southern California,’’ said Trask. “Would the Raiders be embraced there? Absolutely.’’

I experienced that passion this fall when I spent a couple of Sundays in a satellite Black Hole, the West Covina living room of Tony and Vicky Ramirez. They are friends from church — yes, Raiders fans go to church! — and every Sunday after Mass, nearly a dozen people representing three generations of the Ramirez family would gather in front of the television to watch their beloved team.

From toddler to grandma, wearing Bo Jackson jerseys and Raiders sweaters, they would scream, groan, stomp on the floor in excitement and pain, all this in the first quarter in an ordinary game in October. I witnessed a bond that feels much stronger than just one between fans and their football team, and here’s guessing this scene is played out throughout Southern California homes every Sunday,

“It’s a culture thing around here, and it’s been that way for a while,’’ said Tony, 55. “It’s an inner-city culture, black, Latino, everyone following the mystique of an underdog team, something many people in all parts of Los Angeles can relate to.’’

Those who always thought the Raiders were popular here only because of their street cred should meet the Ramirez family, whose living room represents one of the most powerful sports connections in the Southern California landscape.

This is not a connection that could be forged by the Chargers, who should realize that and stay in San Diego. This is perhaps not even a connection appreciated by the NFL, which doesn’t care as much about fan support as the team’s ability to make money. Trask warns that the Los Angeles fans’ love for the Raiders should not be confused with what still might be a reluctance from the Los Angeles business community, and thus the NFL, to embrace the team with the renegade reputation.

“Just because you’re the team with the biggest fan base doesn’t mean you have the business capability to generate the higher revenue,’’ said Trask. “Who draws the most fans, and who can make the most money, are considered two different issues.’’

Right now, it feels like the Raiders could do both. Their status became clear this fall during a trip to visit my youngest daughter in New York. One day Mary Clare wore a funky sweatshirt she had grabbed out of a pile in a Brooklyn thrift store, and we both marveled over the number of compliments she received from a diverse group of friends and strangers alike. Much to our surprise, even though it contained three words that did not fit together, the shirt was considered cool, the nostalgic admiration real.

“Los Angeles Raiders,” it read.

bill.plaschke@latimes.com

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