erod
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This 2015 go at a championship is meaningful on so many levels. Far beyond what another Lombardi would mean for this landmark brand of a franchise.
It could mark the definitive end to a dark and wayward spiral that began pre-internet, long before 9/11, the advent of HD television, smart phones, XBoxes, or Randy Gregory's first-grade report card. Last we spoke honestly in these terms, the Spice Girls were a big deal, if you can imagine the horror.
Essentially, Dallas is at the end of its Reconstruction, following a long and hollow 17 years of maddening ineptitude. What could go wrong did go wrong, too many times to count, and our wildcatting owner doubled down and let it ride over and over and over, certain that he could fix it all with pixie dust and stacks of million-dollar chips.
It didn't work, often ending in the most calamitous thuds in NFL history. It was giddy fodder for a jealous league that had been pulverized on and off the field by Dallas for so painfully long.
Owner Jerry deserved so much better. He worked so damned much harder than his silver-spooned and coat-tailing counterparts. He sweats football from his pores and wears his hopes on his sleeve the same way we do, albeit his of the Valentino Collection variety, but his unhealthy obsession with chasing away Jimmy's shadow, and a stubborn dance with his own flaws and ego, wouldn't allow the madness to end. It was like watching endless re-runs of Maude.
Finally, and incredulously at that, he let go. Maybe not all at once or without a kicking fit or two in the grocery store, but now he's let his son, his coach, and his confidant all sit in the front seat. And best of all, he looks to be a man at peace with it all, which can only be healthy and positive for a man staring straight into the autumn of his life.
The result is striking. The plan and approach is obvious. The future looks paved in hope. And the rest of the league, including the media slobbery, are none too happy about it. Glorious.
Already the roster looks solid and tough to crack for newcomers. I struggle to find a more complete collection of players in the NFL, and another draft or two could make that a rap, especially if Tony Romo can play 3-4 more years as he claims.
There's not a better OC-DC tandem in football than Scott Linehan and Rod Marinelli. There's not a better drafting team than Will McClay and his fighting draftniks. There's not a bigger stage than Cowboys Stadium, or a brighter light than what gets shined on the Cowboys head coach, and there's not a more grounded and well-prepared personality than Jason Garrett to carry that heavy water.
The must-haves are in place enough already. What's left is to raise another trophy in late January, if not this year, then next. This resurgence needs a crown and a coronation.
I want it for Jerry because he finally let me re-embrace him. I want it for Romo because no Cowboy ever deserved it more, apologies to Jason Witten and Danny White. I want it for Garrett because his strength and patience allowed it all to change. And I want it for me, well, because I'm needy and selfish, and it's all about me.
And if the young guys can get a championship taste, then those painful 17 years will be just a reference to the past that we can finally laugh at and put to rest. It'll be on like Donkey Kong for a good long while.
This may sound all too theatrical and overthought for a silly game, but I'm a silly fan who gets too silly involved with this silly team. It's the lone remaining connection I have to my childhood, and I'm not letting it go. Many of you, I'm sure, do the same.
So let's get these three weeks and training camp over with. There's a Super Bowl to go win. Finally, long at last, that's not a crazy thing to say anymore.
It could mark the definitive end to a dark and wayward spiral that began pre-internet, long before 9/11, the advent of HD television, smart phones, XBoxes, or Randy Gregory's first-grade report card. Last we spoke honestly in these terms, the Spice Girls were a big deal, if you can imagine the horror.
Essentially, Dallas is at the end of its Reconstruction, following a long and hollow 17 years of maddening ineptitude. What could go wrong did go wrong, too many times to count, and our wildcatting owner doubled down and let it ride over and over and over, certain that he could fix it all with pixie dust and stacks of million-dollar chips.
It didn't work, often ending in the most calamitous thuds in NFL history. It was giddy fodder for a jealous league that had been pulverized on and off the field by Dallas for so painfully long.
Owner Jerry deserved so much better. He worked so damned much harder than his silver-spooned and coat-tailing counterparts. He sweats football from his pores and wears his hopes on his sleeve the same way we do, albeit his of the Valentino Collection variety, but his unhealthy obsession with chasing away Jimmy's shadow, and a stubborn dance with his own flaws and ego, wouldn't allow the madness to end. It was like watching endless re-runs of Maude.
Finally, and incredulously at that, he let go. Maybe not all at once or without a kicking fit or two in the grocery store, but now he's let his son, his coach, and his confidant all sit in the front seat. And best of all, he looks to be a man at peace with it all, which can only be healthy and positive for a man staring straight into the autumn of his life.
The result is striking. The plan and approach is obvious. The future looks paved in hope. And the rest of the league, including the media slobbery, are none too happy about it. Glorious.
Already the roster looks solid and tough to crack for newcomers. I struggle to find a more complete collection of players in the NFL, and another draft or two could make that a rap, especially if Tony Romo can play 3-4 more years as he claims.
There's not a better OC-DC tandem in football than Scott Linehan and Rod Marinelli. There's not a better drafting team than Will McClay and his fighting draftniks. There's not a bigger stage than Cowboys Stadium, or a brighter light than what gets shined on the Cowboys head coach, and there's not a more grounded and well-prepared personality than Jason Garrett to carry that heavy water.
The must-haves are in place enough already. What's left is to raise another trophy in late January, if not this year, then next. This resurgence needs a crown and a coronation.
I want it for Jerry because he finally let me re-embrace him. I want it for Romo because no Cowboy ever deserved it more, apologies to Jason Witten and Danny White. I want it for Garrett because his strength and patience allowed it all to change. And I want it for me, well, because I'm needy and selfish, and it's all about me.
And if the young guys can get a championship taste, then those painful 17 years will be just a reference to the past that we can finally laugh at and put to rest. It'll be on like Donkey Kong for a good long while.
This may sound all too theatrical and overthought for a silly game, but I'm a silly fan who gets too silly involved with this silly team. It's the lone remaining connection I have to my childhood, and I'm not letting it go. Many of you, I'm sure, do the same.
So let's get these three weeks and training camp over with. There's a Super Bowl to go win. Finally, long at last, that's not a crazy thing to say anymore.
