The Rage Of A Cowboys Fan
Let me start by saying I avoided two major catastrophes last night and I am currently strutting around the house like Vince McMahon (should I use Conor McGregor here instead of Vince…ah, Vince is the OG strutter…I’ll stick with him, legal troubles and reprehensible morality issues be damned) and basking in my good fortune.
What were the two catastrophes, you ask (or, maybe you won’t ask. Maybe you read the first sentence and were like, ‘Oh, god, not more of this bullshit. Jesus Christ, where are the sleeper RB suggestions…I say ‘pearls before swine’ in those cases!) First, I nearly stubbed my toe, and not just any toe, I nearly stubbed my piggy toe. Lord, I’m getting the flop sweats just remembering it. I was walking in my cluttered basement and I felt the toe hit a storage bin, and, just as I braced for the eye-watering pain of a piggy toe stubbing, I realize my foot miraculously bounced off the bin instead of slamming toe-first into it and I received only a glancing blow. It was such a tremendous moment of good fortune that I damn near went wee, wee, wee, all the way home.
I didn’t, however, go wee, wee, wee all the way home. What I did do 30-seconds after narrowly avoiding that disaster was take a bite of a piece of beef jerky and (here’s near catastrophe #2) and nearly, NEARLY accidentally bit the side of my mouth. I’m sure you’ve all had that happen. And, honestly, I can’t believe it doesn’t happen more often, the surprise, blood-drawing, nerve-shattering pain of biting into the side of your mouth. Honestly, your teeth are moving constantly and the inside of your mouth is just pressed right up against there. It’s a calamity waiting to happen…and when it does. Ouch. So, I bit into the beef jerky and I could feel what was going to happen a millisecond before it did. JUST enough time to hold up and avoid incident. Whew. Who says there’s no such thing as luck?
Now that we’re through that nonsense, I’d like to talk about how much it sucks to be a Cowboys fan. Fellow Dallas fans will commiserate with me and fans of every other team in the league are gonna be like ‘Good. Suffer. Fuck Dallas.’ Which I kinda get, but then also, Dallas has been pretty harmless for the last three decades, especially in the post season. Hating Dallas is like the equivalent of hating a Muppet. Yes, sometimes they’re loud and annoying, but generally aren’t going to do much damage at all.
1992, 1993, 1995. Glorious years. My college years. I remember sitting in Hood Hall at Plattsburgh State, full head of hair, probably even a mullet. I remember sitting there and thinking, “Football is kinda getting boring. We win every week.” Can you imagine!!! Looking back on it 30 years and zero, ZERO conference championship game appearances later, I think how that dominance was wasted on that young Plattsburg Cardinal who didn’t know how good he had it. Oh, to have that run of excellence again. But it ain’t gonna happen. Not with this regime.
I don’t even mind Mike McCarthy. He’s guided us to very good regular season records. Yeah, he shits the bed in the playoffs, but part of that might be to the $60 million man getting nervous for the big games, or whatever the hell goes wrong with him. Maybe McCarthy gets out-schemed by better coaches? I don’t know. He did win the Super Bowl…albeit with a very crafty Aaron Rodgers. Dallas ain’t got no crafty Aaron Rodgers.
Honestly, it’s Jerry. It’s all Jerry. When he fired Jimmy Johnson he brought forth a curse the likes of which has never been seen. I think, maybe, he fired Johnson, realize what a shithead move it was, then made a deal with the devil to allow one more Super Bowl victory with Barry Switzer as head puppet in charge. The devil’s price was organizational futility for the rest of eternity. Good move, Jerry. And, he didn’t help McCarthy at all. Waited too long for contract extensions that we bound to happen, costing the team valuable cap room…the contracts only go UP in price, Jerry. No sense waiting…and they made no impactful off-season pick-ups (no offense Mr. Kendricks). I mean, I’m no expert, but it seems like Derrick Henry could have brought something to the table. I mean, he’s no Rico Dowdle, but still. I’m not one to defend McCarthy, but he’s under-gunned…and I blame Jerry!
Honestly, what other general manager in any sport do you know who could go 30 YEARS and not even play for the conference championship and keep his job. THE ANSWER IS NONE. You have to own the goddamn team to put together a record like that. Shit, even Billy Beane would get the A’s straightened out and in the playoffs with a team payroll that wouldn’t even cover Otani’s (translator’s) gambling debts every once in a while. You blew it, Jerry. Half a lifetime of championship opportunities for the most valuable and arguably the most popular franchise in team sports and you’ve given us jack crap. What have we gotten? A fumbled field goal snap, Dez almost catching it (Dez caught that goddamn ball, btw!), almost a decade of watching Jason Garrett clap his hands for no reason on the sidelines, Zeke getting blown up on the last play of an embarrassing playoff loss. Those are all just microcosms of what it feels like to be a Cowboys fan, which is why, when I do decide to wear a Dallas Cowboys jersey, I only wear the one that perfectly represents what the fanbase feels toward Jerry Jones…#5 ANGER. Thanks for nothing, Jerry.
