Byline: KAREN CROUSE
ALAMEDA - We found a book tucked away in one of the locker cubicles at the Oakland Raiders' practice facility that contains the secret of the defense's success.
It's not classified material. If we tell you how we got our hands on it, we won't have to turn around and kill you.
The Baltimore Ravens, the Raiders' opponent Sunday in the AFC championship game, need not carry out a reconnaissance mission to find out how thickset tackle Darrell Russell and his cohorts managed to manacle Miami last week.
The Ravens don't have to send a mole into Oakland's famed Black Hole. You don't need Howie Long to decode it with the help of a telestrator. The secret of the defense's success is as close as the nearest bookstore.
It requires some digging but anybody who really searches the shelves and his own soul (that's a hint) can find enlightenment. It's all there in Max Lucado's book ``Just Like Jesus.''
You read that right. The team that gave the sports world Lester Hayes is finding inspiration in a Christian tome. If that doesn't convince you the Raiders' renegade image is now more myth than mystique, you haven't been listening to the Raiders talk about teammate Eric Turner's death last May of abdominal cancer.
``Being led by an unseen hand'' is the subtitle of one of the book's sections and the narrative of the defense's season. On Saturday it was as if the Raiders had 12 players on the field when the Dolphins had the ball.
In holding Miami to 10 first downs in a 27-0 win, the defense never was flagged for too many men. It's no wonder; it's hard to collar a memory.
``I know he's still with us,'' said Russell of Turner. ``I know he's smiling down on us.''
You can feel Turner's presence in the Raiders' locker room at their practice facility. His cubicle remains the way he left it at the end of last season, right down to the bottle of mouthwash on the shelf that's one-quarter full.
It isn't really a dressing area, it's a window into Turner's personality. He was spiritual and playful and tough and tender, and all those aspects of his character are on display. A Hollywood set designer couldn't have captured the man's essence any better.
The books ``Just Like Jesus'' and ``Good Morning Holy Spirit'' share shelf space with the stuffed Karate Kritter that screams ``Hai-Yah'' when squeezed. A shell necklace hangs over a team photograph.
One item in Turner's locker he didn't put there. It's a trophy that's bulkier than tackle Lincoln Kennedy. It is the Eric Turner Award. Cornerback Eric Allen, a close friend of Turner, was the first recipient.
``I made a pact with myself after (Turner's) funeral saying I'm going to play to my utmost and always keep him in mind and try and do things that would make him proud,'' Allen said upon receiving the award.
That's a tall order. It entails smiling often and playing each down as though it could be your last and helping the younger players negotiate the rich and, in parts, rocky terrain of professional sports.
``He was a big part of my development,'' said Russell, a former first- round draft pick out of USC. ``He helped me to adapt to the mental side of football at this level. He taught me how to handle success. He taught me how to handle the friends and family who change and become very, very fake once you make money.''
Turner, who starred at Ventura College and UCLA, always kept it real. He was the Lucy Van Pelt of the locker room, sitting at his cubicle and dispensing advice.
Safety Calvin Branch continues to talk to Turner every day. He knows he is listening. How else to explain how Oakland and Baltimore (nee Cleveland), the last two teams Turner played for, are meeting for a Super Bowl berth?
``That's pretty eerie, if you think about it,'' Branch said.
Branch scribbled Turner's number (29) on the shirt he wears underneath his pads. He wrote it close to his heart, of course.
It's a trend among the Raiders. They no longer tattoo their bodies, they Turner them. Players write Turner's number on their taped hands and ankles. They scribble it wherever they can find the space.
Safety Johnnie Harris' fashion statement is a neck band that reads ``29 love E.T.''
The Raiders worship at Turner's altar. His locker is a shrine where every player on the team has come to pray. Harris touches it reverently before every game. Branch will stop at it and offer a benediction.
``It gives you goose bumps to look at it,'' said Marquez Pope, a first-year Raider who feels he has gotten to know Turner pretty well this year because his teammates have talked so much about him.
Reserve linebacker Elijah Alexander visits Turner's locker whenever he's tired and sore and feeling like there's no more he can endure.
``You look at his locker,'' Alexander explained, ``and you realize we've all been blessed.''
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Photo: (color) The locker of Eric Turner, who died of cancer in May, has become a shrine for the Oakland Raiders this season.
Ben Margot/Associated Press
