Art Shell comes across as unflappable, almost serene as he goes about his job. But he obviously has his boiling point. Wednesday, Shell told a reporter: "I don't like the tone of that question." Thursday, the big man got a lot hotter than that.

The Raiders were in the middle of another nondescript afternoon practice in Napa, at about 4:10 p.m., when Shell abruptly called the players around him at midfield. He's a soft-spoken man, and it was impossible to hear what he was telling the group. But the absolute silence shrouding him made it clear he wasn't telling knock-knock jokes.

After a few minutes, Shell dismissed his athletes. They were done for the day. And whereas the players usually walk to the locker room chattering, this time they jogged off the field soundless.

None of the writers could figure out what had preceded the implosion, and Shell wasn't in a mood to clue us in. Asked why he ended early, he said only, "Practice is over," not slackening his pace one bit as he left the field. Why, coach? "You gotta work when you're out here." Do they have extra assignments now? "They got meetings tonight."

The players soon began to trickle from the locker room, but they weren't talking. They had either been intimidated into silence, or expressly directed not to discuss what happened.

Defensive end Derrick Burgess: "No, I got nothing to say today. - Not after what just happened."

Cornerback Fabian Washington: "Not today."

Safety Stuart Schweigert: "Ummm- I don't think I should talk anything about it."

Rookie quarterback Kent Smith: "Best just to stay out the way."

Most bizarre of all, normally reticent quarterback Aaron Brooks approached reporters unsolicited and said, "I apologize for that (stuff) today." It only added to the mystery of a strange afternoon.

Some Raiders were guessing that Shell might schedule an impromptu Friday-morning practice to go with the afternoon session. You can bet there will be some spirited hitting. Perhaps we'll even figure out what irked the coach so much in the first place - if any of us can muster the courage to ask him.

• First of all, I would like to nominate Vikings coach Brad Childress for NFL coach of the year, Time magazine man of the year and a Nobel Prize in the category of his choice. In Minneapolis on Monday night, we were perilously close to one of the most distasteful phenomena in sports - the overtime preseason game. I get queasy just saying it. Childress could have sent the game into a fifth quarter with an easy field goal, but instead went all-or-nothing and tried for a last-second touchdown from the Raiders' 22-yard line. His explanation: "I had seen enough." Amen, brother.
• Art Shell has big problems on his offensive line. I don't want to belabor the point, as I touched upon it in my game story. But despite the presence of 2 1/2 Hall of Fame line coaches, these guys are having trouble (a) moving opponents off the line for run plays, and (b) keeping pass rushers out of Aaron Brooks' sternum. It isn't one guy, it's the whole unit (though, thus far, right tackle Langston Walker might warrant special discredit). And the scary thing? There isn't much good veteran depth behind the starting five.
• Randy Moss' return to Minnesota was something to see. It wasn't just the enthusiastic greeting he got when he was introduced at the Metrodome. No. 84 Vikings jerseys were spotted all over town that day, and the stadium was full of them. One kid wore a hybrid; from behind, it was a purple No. 84 with one silver-and-black sleeve.
• Speaking of Moss, I wish this guy would talk to us more. Yes, it's partly out of selfishness, because it makes my job easier. But I also think he has a lot to say - and a colorful way of saying it. It would be nice if the Bay Area fans got to hear him on a regular basis, not just after games. (And who knows how long that will last?) Most of the Raiders were trying to put a handsome face on the play of the offense. But when Moss was asked if he was seeing progress, he said: "I don't see it. Hell, no, I don't see it. - It seems that way in practice, but when we get to the games, it doesn't seem like we're moving in the right direction." Moss' complaints about being removed from the action, and his disdain for Vikings management, got big play after the game. Maybe too big. He did say those words, but he didn't seem angry, and they were mixed with more conciliatory comments. Damn media.
• Good to see Rich Gannon in the press box. The best Raiders quarterback since Ken Stabler looked fit and sounded happy.
• You know those 3-D stickers showing a web of cracks radiating outward from half a baseball, the ones that make it look like a baseball just cracked your windshield? Picture this: Al Davis getting a ride to the visitors' locker room in a golf cart, seated directly behind a fake baseball and broken windshield. Weird stuff.
• How you know it's preseason: Two identical white No. 4 jerseys, running down the field side-by-side as they chase a Vikings kick returner. Cornerback Dennis Davis and wide receiver Burl Toler, both rookie free agents, currently share the number.

I usually try to avoid staying at the Raiders' team hotel on the road, and if you've ever found yourself sharing accommodations with an NFL team, you know why. The lobby tends to be so packed with fans - whole families seeking autographs, starry-eyed would-be groupies, the guys with the aluminum-foil spikes on their shoulder pads - that it can be hard to get from the front door to the registration desk.

In Minneapolis, though, I stayed at the Marriott City Center, and so did the Raiders. Thankfully, the spectacle was kept to a minimum because the team arrived from California late Sunday night. Still, there was a lot of celebrity synergy being generated at the Marriott.

Besides the Raiders' massive entourage, the Chicago-bred rapper Twista (come on, you must know the words to "Badunkadunk") and his posse had rented out the entire 23^rd floor. Ah, that explained the steady stream of buxom young ladies to and from the elevators. Moreover, Raiders executive John Herrera, who handles the team's advance travel, told me that he was on a treadmill in the exercise room a day or two earlier, and finally realized the mismatched couple on the machines next to him was Andre Agassi and Steffi Graf.

At the bar late Sunday night, there were the typical drunken football fans who had driven from Southern California to see the game. The twist? These were Minnesota boosters, members of the SoCal Viking Fan Club. Hearing that the Raiders had just arrived by bus from the airport, a middle-aged woman -- who seemingly had sampled every drink on the menu -- hunted down enemy players for photo opportunities.

Seeing a big guy at the front desk, she ran over, took his picture and gave him a hug. Returning to the bar she announced, "That was Joe Hall, and he smelled great." As if to relieve any doubt, she called across the hotel to the 280-pound fullback: "Hey, Joe, you smell great!"

Sorry, I have no plans to verify that in tonight's post-game locker room.

-- Phil Barber

Training camp is more than a daily regimen of tip drills, special teams period and sweat. It's also a giant BS session. There's always something to hear, whether it's one player threatening another to keep his hands off the facemask, a coach ripping into an unfortunate rookie or simply Randy Moss' usual stream of consciousness.

Sunday, I got a chance to see a sneak preview of "Invincible," the Disney/NFL film starring Mark Wahlberg as Vince Papale. If you didn't know, Papale was a 30-year-old bartender from South Philly who played his way onto the 1976 Philadelphia Eagles after a cattle-call tryout.

I was blown away - by the venue. The premiere was held at the Palace Theatre, a 1926 example of architect John Eberson's "atmospheric theaters." Decorated to re-create a Spanish courtyard, the Palace has an ornate columned proscenium arch over the stage, a giant pipe organ, and a ceiling that features not only twinkling stars, but wispy clouds that actually move across the sky. Sweet.

The tear-jerker isn't my favorite film genre, but this was a good one. Yes, the music welled a bit too stirringly on occasion, and the radio-broadcast voice-overs were unrealistic. But director Ericson Core nailed Philadelphia circa 1976, with the strikes, the garbage, the down vest jackets, the mutton-chop sideburns and crappy Chevelles. And the usual bane of sports movies - the sports - was good enough to move along the plot.

Best of all, the "pit drill" I recently discussed in a story was featured prominently. (In the movie, Eagles coach Dick Vermeil calls it "the nutcracker.") Papale's improvement in the drill signals his rise to respectability.

My only real complaint about the film is Greg Kinnear's portrayal of Vermeil. He has the coach's speech down to a T, but he doesn't convey Vermeil's toughness. The Calistoga native is a quick-to-tears players' coach, yes; he's also a world-class hard ass when he needs to be.The punch line, for me anyway, came when they rolled some graphics at the end of the movie, explaining what happened to the main characters. When Vermeil (the real item) appeared, the text noted that he took the Eagles to the Super Bowl after the 1980 season. Instead of sniffling, a Raiders fan sitting behind me yelled, "Took the L, though!"

--Phil Barber

Sights and sounds from Hall of Fame weekend in Canton.