Reverend Conehead
Well-Known Member
- Messages
- 9,951
- Reaction score
- 11,849
If you have a memory of a Cowboys fan who is no longer with us, post your memories of them in this thread. Here's mine.
...
The mother of some of our friends when we were kids was also my mom's best friend, a woman named Sandy. She invited us over to watch the NFC Championship in 1972, the one against Washington. We were coming off of a season with Craig Morton at quarterback. Despite winning the starting job the year before, Roger Staubach spent the '72 season on the sidelines until Landry pulled Morton in favor of Staubach in the divisional round against the 49ers. This was Staubach's first miracle come from behind victory. It earned us a trip to DC to take on Washington. We were all excited about the game, which was to be played on the last day of the year. We figured we would celebrate the victory and the new year with Sandy and her family, after she generously invited us. I was only 8 years old, and didn't understand much about football. It was only my second year watching the Cowboys. My dad had explained to me the year before when we watched Super Bowl 6 that this was the big game, and, if Dallas won, it proved they were the best team. With my logic of an 8-year-old, I figured we were the best team last year, and that meant we would be the best team this year too. However, as most of you here know, the 1972 NFC Championship was a disaster. The Cowboys were never in that game. Staubach didn't have a miracle up his sleeve for that one, nor did any Cowboy. The Cowboys got clobbered.
...
I remember toward the end of the game, when I knew it was hopeless, I was sitting on the couch next to my older brother more bummed out than I had ever been up to that point in my life. The typical thing a person might say would have gone something like this: "Don't let it get you down. It's just a game." A statement like that is well-meaning, but it does nothing to fix how deflated a young kid feels. Sandy approached things differently. I'm sure she knew that a game is less important than many, many things, but she understood how important it was to me. Instead of the typical approach, she was compassionate. She said, "It's no fun watching your team lose." The way she said it was full of love, and I felt that she really cared about us. We shut off the TV and she offered us some brownies that she had made. She was always like that. She could say the simplest thing, but the way she said it made you know that she cared about you.
...
A couple years ago, unfortunately, Sandy was in a nursing home with Alzheimer's. My mom went to see her multiple times a week. Sandy had always been there for my mom, and now, with Sandy in peril, my mom didn't think twice about visiting her frequently until she passed, even though Sandy didn't always knew who she was. All her life, Sandy probably didn't even know that her acts of kindness meant so much to people. It was simply in her nature to be kind. She did those things because it was who she was. She was one of our family's best friends. RIP, Sandy.
...
The mother of some of our friends when we were kids was also my mom's best friend, a woman named Sandy. She invited us over to watch the NFC Championship in 1972, the one against Washington. We were coming off of a season with Craig Morton at quarterback. Despite winning the starting job the year before, Roger Staubach spent the '72 season on the sidelines until Landry pulled Morton in favor of Staubach in the divisional round against the 49ers. This was Staubach's first miracle come from behind victory. It earned us a trip to DC to take on Washington. We were all excited about the game, which was to be played on the last day of the year. We figured we would celebrate the victory and the new year with Sandy and her family, after she generously invited us. I was only 8 years old, and didn't understand much about football. It was only my second year watching the Cowboys. My dad had explained to me the year before when we watched Super Bowl 6 that this was the big game, and, if Dallas won, it proved they were the best team. With my logic of an 8-year-old, I figured we were the best team last year, and that meant we would be the best team this year too. However, as most of you here know, the 1972 NFC Championship was a disaster. The Cowboys were never in that game. Staubach didn't have a miracle up his sleeve for that one, nor did any Cowboy. The Cowboys got clobbered.
...
I remember toward the end of the game, when I knew it was hopeless, I was sitting on the couch next to my older brother more bummed out than I had ever been up to that point in my life. The typical thing a person might say would have gone something like this: "Don't let it get you down. It's just a game." A statement like that is well-meaning, but it does nothing to fix how deflated a young kid feels. Sandy approached things differently. I'm sure she knew that a game is less important than many, many things, but she understood how important it was to me. Instead of the typical approach, she was compassionate. She said, "It's no fun watching your team lose." The way she said it was full of love, and I felt that she really cared about us. We shut off the TV and she offered us some brownies that she had made. She was always like that. She could say the simplest thing, but the way she said it made you know that she cared about you.
...
A couple years ago, unfortunately, Sandy was in a nursing home with Alzheimer's. My mom went to see her multiple times a week. Sandy had always been there for my mom, and now, with Sandy in peril, my mom didn't think twice about visiting her frequently until she passed, even though Sandy didn't always knew who she was. All her life, Sandy probably didn't even know that her acts of kindness meant so much to people. It was simply in her nature to be kind. She did those things because it was who she was. She was one of our family's best friends. RIP, Sandy.
Last edited:
