MichaelValentino
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Last night, I watched some of the NFL Network's showing of America's Team. For me, it was a time to reminisce and harken back to what many consider the NFL's glory days.
Now, I realize Cowboys Zone is largely a young man's (and woman's) forum, and that the graybeards among us who have seen the Cowboys success and popularity rise like a Roman candle and who have tasted the most bitter defeats in team history are few and far between.
So, for the older crowd, walk back in time with me and relive, for a brief moment, the special, almost magical, time in team history when "the man in the funny hat" roamed the sidelines and when "Captain America" modeled for America's youth what a true champion and leader should look like. For the younger members, enjoy the retelling of those glory years from someone who was there and who, as a young boy growing up 1000 miles from Dallas, was instantly drawn to the team with the star on the helmet the first time he saw them on black-and-white TV (yes, there was such a thing back then).
Watching the show last night was bittersweet for me, and, I would imagine, for anyone who experienced the heartache of January 21, 1979 in Miami's Orange Bowl. Dallas, coming off a 12-2 season in 1977 and a dominant playoff run, went 12-4 in 1978 and faced the two-time Super Bowl champion Steelers, who had won 14 games that year. Each team was loaded with future Hall of Fame players and coached by men who were destined for Canton themselves. This was, by all metrics, the greatest match-up in the then short history of the Super Bowl.
We know how that game ended. For me - and opinion may vary - Super Bowl XIII was the most bitter defeat in Cowboys history, eclipsing the Ice Bowl and any other playoff loss. This, after all, was not merely a game to determine the NFL champion of the 1978 season. It was a game to determine the 1970s Team of the Decade and to cement, forever in NFL history, a seat at the table of the greatest teams to ever play the game.
It was against this backdrop that the enormity of that loss hung like a dark pall. And yet, it was in the aftermath of the Cowboys most bitter defeat and - almost inarguably - the Steelers single greatest victory, that NFL Films put together its 1978 Cowboys highlight film, and to which the moniker, "America's Team," was given.
Although the name instantly placed a bulls-eye on the backs of the Cowboys, it was not entirely without merit. The Cowboys, after all, did transform from a fledgling, almost comical expansion team to arrive at its nascent form of greatness in the mid-60s led by perhaps the gutsiest - and most maligned - QB to ever grace the field, Don Meredith.
The Cowboys would eventually overcome two close losses to the great Lombardi teams of 1966-67 to embark on an NFL record 20 consecutive winning seasons, and in the decade of the 1970s, win more games than any other franchise - including the decade's greatest teams, Pittsburgh, Miami, Kansas City, Oakland, Minnesota, Los Angeles - play in five of 10 Super Bowls, winning two of them handily and losing three others (all in Miami) by a combined 11 points. Cowboys fans were sprouting up everywhere and the NFL knew it had struck gold with the rise in popularity of the Cowboys to national prominence.
The 1970s Cowboys were loaded with talent, and almost an embarrassment of riches. Doomsday I exchanged Bob Lilly, George Andrie, Jethro Pugh, Chuck Howley, Lee Roy Jordan, Mel Renfro and Cornell Green for Doomsday II's Randy White, Harvey Martin, Too Tall Jones, Bob Breunig, Thomas Henderson, Cliff Harris and Charlie Waters. John Niland, Blaine Nye and Ralph Neely gave way to Herbert Scott, Pat Donovan and Tom Rafferty while Rayfield Wright was a 13-year constant, blocking Deacon Jones to Jack Youngbood all the way to Canton. The enigmatic but immensely talented Duane Thomas and the fun-loving warrior of a fullback, Walt Garrison, along with Calvin Hill would give way to the lightning-in-a-bottle tailback from Pitt, Tony Dorsett, Robert Newhouse and Ron Springs. The blazing speed of Bob Hayes would give way to the sure hands and precision routes of Drew Pearson. At tight end, Mike Ditka passed the torch to Jean Fugett who passed it to the consummate combination of blocker and receiver, Billy Joe Dupree.
And through all of this change and amid the myriad of talent, the constant that remained and the glue which held it together wore no. 12 on his back. He was the ultimate sports hero who had a brilliant football career at Annapolis, then served four years in Viet Nam before coming to the Cowboys as a back-up to the golden-armed Craig Morton who turned scouts' heads while at Cal and who was locked in as the Cowboys starter when Roger Staubach arrived at camp.
In 1971, a year after a heartbreaking defeat in Super Bowl V, Coach Landry alternated quarterbacks through the first seven games. The Cowboys were 4-3 and floundering with a divided locker room. Landry then decided to go with Staubach and the Cowboys never looked back - until March 1979 when after suffering a dozen, or more, concussions, Staubach retired after having led the NFL in passer rating at the ages of 36 and 37 and was still in the prime of his career.
It is ironic that after NFL Films gave the Dallas Cowboys the title of America's Team, Roger played only one more season in Dallas. Without Captain America leading America's Team, things would never be the same.
In some ways I consider Roger Staubach to be the Gale Sayers of quarterbacks. Why? Because Sayers was a star who shined brightly for such a short time. He played 68 NFL games, and still 50 years later is regarded among the greatest at his position despite such a small window in which to show his talents. Roger, unlike the great QBs before and after who enjoyed long careers - Van Brocklin, Unitas, Starr, Tarkenton, Dawson, Bradshaw, Montana, Elway, Manning, Favre, Brady - played only eight full seasons as the Cowboys QB, leading his team to four Super Bowls in that time. Like Sayers, one can only wonder what a long and healthy career might have brought.
For me, when Staubach retired, I knew the magic was gone; the candle's flame still flickered but its brightness would be much subdued. Danny White did an admirable job, but there was only one Captain America.
Eventually, even the magic of NFL Films would come to an end. With the death of John Facenda, the nonpareil narrator with the melodious baritone voice, in 1984 some of the aura of football died. Harry Kalas would take over narration and Steve Sabol did a brilliant job after the passing of his father, Ed Sabol, who founded NFL Films, but even so it was not quite the same.
The making of the Dallas Cowboys as America's Team seems, to me anyway, to have been a perfect confluence of events - the rise from "next year's champions" to Super Bowl champion; the leadership and image maintained by the stoic, brilliant and devoted man of faith, Tom Landry, and the unflappable and unassailable character of a sports icon at the single most important (and visible) position, Roger Staubach; the brilliance that was NFL Films and its marriage with Facenda seemingly made a great game bigger than it even was; and yes, the heartbreak of Super Bowl XIII which tempered the euphoria of the 1970s with the most heartbreaking of defeats.
I think of the 1970s Dallas Cowboys and am reminded of Dickens' opening words in his greatest work: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair..."
Now, I realize Cowboys Zone is largely a young man's (and woman's) forum, and that the graybeards among us who have seen the Cowboys success and popularity rise like a Roman candle and who have tasted the most bitter defeats in team history are few and far between.
So, for the older crowd, walk back in time with me and relive, for a brief moment, the special, almost magical, time in team history when "the man in the funny hat" roamed the sidelines and when "Captain America" modeled for America's youth what a true champion and leader should look like. For the younger members, enjoy the retelling of those glory years from someone who was there and who, as a young boy growing up 1000 miles from Dallas, was instantly drawn to the team with the star on the helmet the first time he saw them on black-and-white TV (yes, there was such a thing back then).
Watching the show last night was bittersweet for me, and, I would imagine, for anyone who experienced the heartache of January 21, 1979 in Miami's Orange Bowl. Dallas, coming off a 12-2 season in 1977 and a dominant playoff run, went 12-4 in 1978 and faced the two-time Super Bowl champion Steelers, who had won 14 games that year. Each team was loaded with future Hall of Fame players and coached by men who were destined for Canton themselves. This was, by all metrics, the greatest match-up in the then short history of the Super Bowl.
We know how that game ended. For me - and opinion may vary - Super Bowl XIII was the most bitter defeat in Cowboys history, eclipsing the Ice Bowl and any other playoff loss. This, after all, was not merely a game to determine the NFL champion of the 1978 season. It was a game to determine the 1970s Team of the Decade and to cement, forever in NFL history, a seat at the table of the greatest teams to ever play the game.
It was against this backdrop that the enormity of that loss hung like a dark pall. And yet, it was in the aftermath of the Cowboys most bitter defeat and - almost inarguably - the Steelers single greatest victory, that NFL Films put together its 1978 Cowboys highlight film, and to which the moniker, "America's Team," was given.
Although the name instantly placed a bulls-eye on the backs of the Cowboys, it was not entirely without merit. The Cowboys, after all, did transform from a fledgling, almost comical expansion team to arrive at its nascent form of greatness in the mid-60s led by perhaps the gutsiest - and most maligned - QB to ever grace the field, Don Meredith.
The Cowboys would eventually overcome two close losses to the great Lombardi teams of 1966-67 to embark on an NFL record 20 consecutive winning seasons, and in the decade of the 1970s, win more games than any other franchise - including the decade's greatest teams, Pittsburgh, Miami, Kansas City, Oakland, Minnesota, Los Angeles - play in five of 10 Super Bowls, winning two of them handily and losing three others (all in Miami) by a combined 11 points. Cowboys fans were sprouting up everywhere and the NFL knew it had struck gold with the rise in popularity of the Cowboys to national prominence.
The 1970s Cowboys were loaded with talent, and almost an embarrassment of riches. Doomsday I exchanged Bob Lilly, George Andrie, Jethro Pugh, Chuck Howley, Lee Roy Jordan, Mel Renfro and Cornell Green for Doomsday II's Randy White, Harvey Martin, Too Tall Jones, Bob Breunig, Thomas Henderson, Cliff Harris and Charlie Waters. John Niland, Blaine Nye and Ralph Neely gave way to Herbert Scott, Pat Donovan and Tom Rafferty while Rayfield Wright was a 13-year constant, blocking Deacon Jones to Jack Youngbood all the way to Canton. The enigmatic but immensely talented Duane Thomas and the fun-loving warrior of a fullback, Walt Garrison, along with Calvin Hill would give way to the lightning-in-a-bottle tailback from Pitt, Tony Dorsett, Robert Newhouse and Ron Springs. The blazing speed of Bob Hayes would give way to the sure hands and precision routes of Drew Pearson. At tight end, Mike Ditka passed the torch to Jean Fugett who passed it to the consummate combination of blocker and receiver, Billy Joe Dupree.
And through all of this change and amid the myriad of talent, the constant that remained and the glue which held it together wore no. 12 on his back. He was the ultimate sports hero who had a brilliant football career at Annapolis, then served four years in Viet Nam before coming to the Cowboys as a back-up to the golden-armed Craig Morton who turned scouts' heads while at Cal and who was locked in as the Cowboys starter when Roger Staubach arrived at camp.
In 1971, a year after a heartbreaking defeat in Super Bowl V, Coach Landry alternated quarterbacks through the first seven games. The Cowboys were 4-3 and floundering with a divided locker room. Landry then decided to go with Staubach and the Cowboys never looked back - until March 1979 when after suffering a dozen, or more, concussions, Staubach retired after having led the NFL in passer rating at the ages of 36 and 37 and was still in the prime of his career.
It is ironic that after NFL Films gave the Dallas Cowboys the title of America's Team, Roger played only one more season in Dallas. Without Captain America leading America's Team, things would never be the same.
In some ways I consider Roger Staubach to be the Gale Sayers of quarterbacks. Why? Because Sayers was a star who shined brightly for such a short time. He played 68 NFL games, and still 50 years later is regarded among the greatest at his position despite such a small window in which to show his talents. Roger, unlike the great QBs before and after who enjoyed long careers - Van Brocklin, Unitas, Starr, Tarkenton, Dawson, Bradshaw, Montana, Elway, Manning, Favre, Brady - played only eight full seasons as the Cowboys QB, leading his team to four Super Bowls in that time. Like Sayers, one can only wonder what a long and healthy career might have brought.
For me, when Staubach retired, I knew the magic was gone; the candle's flame still flickered but its brightness would be much subdued. Danny White did an admirable job, but there was only one Captain America.
Eventually, even the magic of NFL Films would come to an end. With the death of John Facenda, the nonpareil narrator with the melodious baritone voice, in 1984 some of the aura of football died. Harry Kalas would take over narration and Steve Sabol did a brilliant job after the passing of his father, Ed Sabol, who founded NFL Films, but even so it was not quite the same.
The making of the Dallas Cowboys as America's Team seems, to me anyway, to have been a perfect confluence of events - the rise from "next year's champions" to Super Bowl champion; the leadership and image maintained by the stoic, brilliant and devoted man of faith, Tom Landry, and the unflappable and unassailable character of a sports icon at the single most important (and visible) position, Roger Staubach; the brilliance that was NFL Films and its marriage with Facenda seemingly made a great game bigger than it even was; and yes, the heartbreak of Super Bowl XIII which tempered the euphoria of the 1970s with the most heartbreaking of defeats.
I think of the 1970s Dallas Cowboys and am reminded of Dickens' opening words in his greatest work: "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair..."
