Silver and BlueBlood

Who's Your Daddy?

Jerry Jones included in his “state-of-the-team” address a defense of his decision to keep his coach. Without provocation, he launched into JoneSpeak about how Wade was the right man for the job and how he would bring things to the table that no one else could.

Jones’ feeling that he had to defend why he kept his coach is pretty telling. It almost seems as if he is trying to answer the voices in his own head. I don’t doubt that some of the reporters in the audience may well have hurled that fastball at his noggin had he not addressed it, but when a speaker feels the need to defend a decision before it is questioned, it certainly raises a red flag.

I am one who believes that Phillips is ill-suited to lead an NFL team as the head man. I believe that he is the kind of coach whose team would have to thrive in spite of his influence, rather than because of it.  I will get to a few reasons why I believe this in a moment.

First, I want to get to three reasons I believe Jerry believes Wade is the right man for this job:

1. Jimmy Johnson. Jerry’s experience with Jimmy informs his every decision regarding the position of Dallas Cowboys’ head coach. Jerry felt he and Jimmy had built the great team of the early nineties together…and he wanted to share the credit for that accomplishment. Jimmy, selfish bastard that he is, was sure it was all him and that he only needed Jerry to provide him the platform and the checkbook. Jimmy was a glory-hound. Jerry doesn’t want to walk the Jimmy Johnson road ever again.
2. Bill Parcells. Parcells was a desperation hire. Jones saw his prized franchise sinking into such a quagmire of mediocrity that something radical had to be done. So, he brought in the football savant, the man who turned around every franchise he ever touched. But Jones underestimated just how dour and surly Parcells could be. Jones is an optimist, a wildcatter, a risk-taker, while Parcells is a calculating, analytical, self-assured (and self-promoting) bona fide football genius. Word around Cowboys headquarters was that Jones was just plain miserable with Parcells. Parcells is more subtle about it, but like Jimmy, he is a glory-hound. He is also a control freak (remember his “buy the groceries” quote). Trouble with that is, Jerry likes to be in control.
3. Mike Shanahan, Bill Cowher, and Mike Holmgren. Jerry looks at the trio he ought to have interviewed and chosen from and thinks, “No thanks. Been there. Done that.” Here are three men with proven track records and Super Bowl hardware, but they are strong-willed men. They are leaders. Jerry cannot have that! He has to be the leader…even if it means he settles for a man who has never led a single team to a single playoff victory as a head coach. At least this man is happy to let Jones be THE MAN.

OK, so Jerry keeps Wade and that is that. Like it or lump it. We cannot do a thing to change it. Besides, is Wade really such a bad choice? Yes, he is! Here is why…

1. Wade Phillips is an excuse-maker. Listen to his news conferences after any random loss. He will offer this excuse or that. Maybe it was a hurt player. Maybe it was a ball taking a bad bounce. Maybe his wife didn’t starch his shorts just right and they chapped his butt. Who knows?
2. Wade Phillips is a stat-spouter. He will take solace in stats whenever his team loses. He will talk about how many yards his team gained or how stingy his defense was. It has forever been the case that winners point to the scoreboard while the losers scramble for the stat book.
3. Wade Phillips is too easily impressed. Remember a couple years ago when he made the statement about how his team made the final eight? Um, excuse us, Wade,but this is not the NCAA Tourney and you are not coaching George Mason University. This is the NFL, buddy. This is the Dallas Cowboys.

It is preseason – training camp time – and hope springs…well, maybe not eternal, but at least until late September, early October. I am hopeful that Jerry and Wade will prove me wrong. I would love that. I would love to see this Cowboys team have a breakout season. Most of all, I would love to see them end the thirteen-year playoff victory drought, which is unprecedented in franchise history.

I hope for it. I want it. I just don’t believe it is likely to happen. Not on Wade’s watch.

Popularity: 8% [?]

“Football incorporates the two worst elements of American society: violence punctuated by committee meetings.”

~ George Will, author, commentator, humorist

The game of American football – especially at the professional level – lends itself to copious and memorable quotes, like the one above. The Dallas Cowboys organization has been home to great leaders, singular players, and colorful characters throughout its noble history. Many of them have, with their words, weaved a colorful and rich tapestry, a verbal masterpiece draped on the walls of our memories.

Meredith: Always Quotable

If you are old enough to have been there, and if you can quiet your spirit enough, you can almost hear the even, measured words of  Tom Landry, uttered in that south Texas drawl, words of wisdom, words to play – and to live – by. You can hear the even more Texas twang of the witty Walt Garrison deadpanning about his coach. You can hear the almost musical quality of Meredith’s smooth delivery of yet another masterful bonmot.

It is not easy to sift through these treasures and find the ten most memorable, or ten most representative of the franchise’s history. I doubt I have succeeded in doing so. I am sure you will correct me…and add your own sweet memory to this tapestry.

Number Ten: “That was the triumph of an uncluttered mind.” ~ Blaine Nye on Clint Longley’s Thanksgiving Day performance

Number Nine: “If ‘ifs’ and ‘buts’ were candy and nuts, wouldn’t it be a merry Christmas?” ~ Don Meredith

Number Eight: “He couldn’t spell ‘cat’ if you spotted him the ‘c’ and the ‘a.’” ~ Thomas “Hollywood” Henderson on Terry Bradshaw

Number Seven: “There are no traffic jams along the extra mile.” ~ Roger Staubach

Number Six: “Leadership is getting someone to do what they don’t want to do, to achieve what they want to achieve.” ~ Tom Landry

Number Five: “He’s a perfectionist. If he was married to Raquel Welch, he’d expect her to cook.” ~ Don Meredith on Coach Landry

Number Four: “If the Super Bowl is the Ultimate Game, why are they playing it again next year?” ~ Duane Thomas

Number Three: “If it was third down, and you needed four yards, if you’d get the ball to Walt Garrison, he’d get ya five. And if was third down and ya needed 20 yards, if you’d get the ball to Walt Garrison, by God, he’d get you five.” ~ Don Meredith on Walt Garrison

Number Two: “Nope. But I have only been here nine years.” ~ Walt Garrison, when asked if he had ever seen Tom Landry smile.

Number One: “Texas Stadium has a hole in its roof so God can watch his favorite team play.” ~ D.D. Lewis

Like I said, it was quite difficult to narrow them down to just ten. These are my ten. It is entirely possible that the reader remembers ten others that were just as memorable, witty, or astounding. If so, feel free to reply and add your own list…or at least your own favorite quote.

As for me, I will let the most quotable Cowboy of them all get the final word…

“Turn out the lights: the party’s over.”

Popularity: 100% [?]

“Early in the third quarter, the Giants had their backs to the wall, just as they had all season. They were an established NFL power in America’s greatest city, with a lineup of star athletes expected to dominate the league for years to come…”

So writes Mark Bowden, author of The Best Game Ever. With an eye for detail and a flair for stating the dramatic in a sufficiently understated way so as to make it more dramatic, Bowden weaves the story of the game many still say is the greatest ever played.

From My Library

The 1958 NFL championship game at Yankee Stadium between the New York Giants and the Baltimore Colts was a game for the ages. It would be the first nationally televised NFL championship game. It would pit, as Bowden aptly points out, the league’s stingiest defense (the Giants) against the league’s most powerful offense (the Colts). It would become the first NFL game to go to sudden death overtime…and it would officially awaken the consciousness of a nation to the sport that had long labored under the long shadow of major league baseball. Today, no sport is more widely followed by American sports fans. No league is more wildly successful and lucrative.

This was not the case in 1958.

In 1958, the great postwar boom was still in full stride, but some new and discordant notes had sounded…Just over the horizon was a decade of restless social, political, and cultural upheaval, but none of that was obvious yet. Americans had never been more affluent, and had never had more leisure. And pro football, which was about to catch hold, would just shoulder on through all this coming change, growing ever more popular and ever more rich.

The names involved in this championship game alone make it singular. Baltimore players sported name like John Unitas, Raymond Berry, Alan Ameche, Art Donovan, Lenny Moore, “Big Daddy” Lipscomb, and Gino Marchetti. The Giants fielded giants, as well. Their players included Frank Gifford, Sam Huff, Rosey Grier, and Pat Summerall. The Colts were led by now legendary coach Weeb Ewbank, who would become the only man to win both the NFL and AFL championships as a head coach. Flanking Giants’ head coach Jim Lee Howell were offensive coordinator Vince Lombardi and defensive coordinator Tom Landry.

It was the greatest concentration of football talent ever assembled for a single game. On the field and roaming the sidelines, including Giants owners Wellington and Jack Mara, were seventeen future members of the NFL Hall of Fame.

The game itself was a masterpiece, but the stories surrounding the game were also the stuff of legend. From the wit and humor of the gregarious Art Donovan to the meticulous – obsessive, even – work habits of Raymond Berry and John Unitas, Bowden opens the curtains to the behind-the-scenes action and drama leading up to, surrounding, and following the great game.

The chapter on Raymond Berry depicts the story of achievement in the face of odds and athletic accomplishment despite physical limitations, the likes of which would never be written as a work of fiction because it would be considered entirely too fanciful. Writes Bowden:

The story of Raymond Berry is more than the story of an overlooked, talent-deprived young athlete who by dint of sheer effort, will, and dedication turns himself into a star. There are players who fit that description on every team…His personality and his obsessions changed not only his own life, but those of his teammates and the Colts’ organization, and ultimately the history of pro football.

The other stories and back stories are equally important and receive attention from Bowden’s keen eye and sharp pen. He doesn’t overlook the influence of the father of modern football, Paul Brown, on the game. He doesn’t miss the unlikely way the Colts got hold of the man who would become forever the gold standard for pro quarterbacks, John Unitas. He highlights the genius of Lombardi and Landry. He reveals the chess game that played out on the field between the defensive guru Landry, his star linebacker Sam Huff, and Unitas.

Adding to the book’s appeal are odd insertions of the stories of random fans who were watching the game. People whose names may have never appeared in a published work before and may never after give color and clarity to the meaning and magnitude of this game. Consider Ed Chaney, Jr…

At Henry Mack’s pub on Ritchie Highway in Glen Burnie, Maryland, Ed Chaney, Jr., one of about three dozen Colts’ fans watching on TV, called his boss at a nearby service station to say he would be late for work. The boss fired him. Chaney hung up happily and ordered another beer.

We may debate which is the greatest pro football game ever played, as my Dad would say, until the cows come home. But any honest debate, even a half century after the fact, must include the 1958 NFL championship game between the Baltimore Colts and the New York Giants. For people like me who were born after the fact – I would not enter the world until 1961 and would not develop a fully functional pro football consciousness until about 1970 – this book brings to life the game that changed the game forever, and the men who made it what it was.

The Best Game Ever may not be the greatest sports book ever. But for a true fan of the NFL, for a fan who wants to look beneath the glitz and glamor of today’s game and understand its roots, this book is a must read.

And it’s a good read, which makes it all the better.

Popularity: 4% [?]

Say what you want about Martellus Bennett, but the guy does have a sense of humor…and bubbles over with personality. Hot on the heels of his highly controversial “Black Olympics” comes the one-of-a-kind MartyB Stadium Tour. Enjoy…

Popularity: 2% [?]

Let’s preface this list with an important qualifying statement: the only moments up for consideration are on-the-field occurrences. In other words, this is a list of the ten most devastating plays in team history. Consequently, we won’t be mentioning moments many may consider catastrophic, like the day Landry was fired or the day Jimmy Johnson walked away or the day Switzer was hired. Nor will we talk about the “white house” or the Michael Irvin trial. We may long debate the impact of such happenings on the team. But that is a different discussion.

In selecting the plays included in this list, several factors were considered:

• Was it a catastrophic moment for the team?
• Do Cowboys fans still remember it?
• Does it still hurt?

Number Ten: Cards Make History with Blocked Punt. On October 12, 2008, The Dallas Cowboys would suffer a tough overtime loss to the Arizona Cardinals. The catastrophic moment came in overtime, when, after the Cowboys offense failed to do anything with the opening drive, Mat McBriar was called on to punt the ball away. But the Cardinals’ Sean Morey broke through to block the punt and teammate Monty Biesel scooped up the ball and scored the winning touchdown. The Cowboys would spiral into an 8-8 finish while the Cards would finally break through with a successful postseason and their first-ever Super Bowl appearance. Oh, and McBriar was lost for the season.

Number Nine: Rookie Kicks Cowboys in the Super Bowl Groin. The Cowboys had finally done it. After years of falling just short and being called “bridesmaids” or dubbed “next year’s champs,” they made the Super Bowl. Their opponent was the John Unitas-led Baltimore Colts. Super Bowl V was a mess. The teams combined for eleven turnovers. Some called it the “Blunder Bowl,” or the “Stupor Bowl.” Still, Dallas had a 13-6 lead at the end of three quarters. The Colts, however, would tie the score in the fourth. Then, with five seconds left in the game, rookie kicker Jim O’Brien trotted onto the field and promptly kicked a 32-yard field goal to win the game. Next year’s champs would have to wait…again.

Desecration

Number Eight: T.O. Desecrates the Star. It would have been impossible to imagine on September 24, 2000 that Terrell Owens would some day be dancing into the end zone, scoring TDs with the Cowboys’ star on his helmet. In the ultimate show of disrespect for a franchise and its fans, the lightening rod (some say Nimrod) receiver scored a TD for the 49ers and then dashed to the star at the fifty yard line to rub his success – and their failure – in the nose of the Dallas Cowboys and their longsuffering fans. Owens scored twice that day and made the same trip to the star each time. The second time, safety George Teague knocked him off the star. It was a bad start to a decade that has mostly been unkind to the Cowboys.

Number Seven: “No, Danny! No!” The Cowboys were looking good going into the final weeks of the 1983 season. Then, they ran into the hated Redskins. The ‘Skins held the ‘Boys to a franchise-low 33 yards rushing. Washington had a thin 14-10 lead in the third quarter. Dallas had the ball, fourth and one, at their own 48. Landry instructed quarterback Danny White to use a hard count to try and draw the defense offsides. White, however, changed the play at the line of scrimmage, calling for a Ron Springs run up the middle. Springs lost two yards and the Cowboys lost the game. Cameras caught an animated Tom Landry on the sideline yelling, “No! No, Danny! No!” It was as close as the stoic coach ever came to losing his cool during a game. Moreover, after a decade (the 70s) of five Super Bowl appearances and two wins, the Cowboys would begin a slow spiral through the 80s.

Number Six: The Play-Maker will Play No More Forever. October, 1999. Michael Irvin’s career-ending inury was a catastrophic moment for himself and the Cowboys. It served notice that the Triplets were done. Their marvelous run as the mighty triumverate of football acumen came to an unceremonious end when the polarizing, flamboyant, spiritual leader of the team of the 90’s landed awkwardly on his head after hauling in his last-ever pass from Troy Aikman. To make matters worse, it happened in the worst possible place: Philadelphia. The classless morons making up a significant part of the crowd that day once again proved themselves to be America’s lowest form of sports fan: the kind that cheers the failure of others even more loudly than the success of their own team. (Losers are that way.) CNNSI.com reported the incident this way:

By cheering Dallas Cowboys receiver Michael Irvin as he lay motionless on the turf Sunday with a neck injury, the fans brought the city’s reputation for boorishness to new lows. It disgusted even those who thought they had seen it all in the “City of Brotherly Love.”

“Unspeakable, even for us,” proclaimed a headline in the Philadelphia Daily News.

Number Five: A Disgraceful End to A Glorious Run. It was the final game ever to be played in Texas Stadium, where so many glories of the past had transpired, where so many great Cowboys players had left their indelible mark. The final game was not against a division rival…or any other bitter rival, like maybe the 49ers or Steelers. It was the Ravens. No history there. Well, now there is. The Baltimore Birds made history. First, halfback Willis Mcgahee tied a Texas Stadium record with a 77-yard touchdown run against the Dallas D (the one Wade Phillips had taken over and “improved” in recent weeks). Then, his teammate, Le’Ron McLain broke the record with an 82 yard run. The Dallas defenders looked like matadors on that play.  I know: this is two plays…but they happened so closely together and constituted a single insult. The light that had shined so gloriously through the hole in the stadium’s roof into the North Texas night for 28 years was unceremoniously doused. If Jerry Jones had walked down to the field and fired the excuse-making, underachieving, overmatched, good ole boy head coach right there on the spot, who could have blamed him? But Jerry needs a man who will surrender enough of his manhood for the owner to retain absolute control. Wade Phillips – the world’s doughiest puppet – is his man. (Pardon the veering and venting. It still smarts.)

Number Four: Romo Fumbles Away Playoff Victory. January 6, 2007, Seattle, Washington. First, let us be clear: Romo the quarterback played well enough to defeat the Seattle Seahawks on their own turf and earn a long-awaited and much-needed playoff victory for his franchise. Romo the kickholder did not. I place as much blame on the shoulders of the world’s biggest Tuna as I do on Romo. Why on earth do you need the starting quarterback, the man who has poured everything he has onto the field of battle, to hold the ball for your kicker? Do you also want him distributing Gatorade during timeouts? Maybe he could work a hot dog stand. At any rate, Romo bobbles the hold. The Cowboys fail to score. The Seahawks make sure they don’t get another shot. The playoff drought continues.

Ouch!

Number Three: The Catch. January 10, 1982, San Francisco. It was a prayer, uttered by a desperation-heaving Joe Montana and answered by a right-place-at-the-right-moment Dwight Clark. With Ed “Too Tall” Jones closing in and looming over Montana’s field of vision, the man who would become arguably the game’s greatest clutch quarterback launched his fabled assault on  NFL post-season lore. The Catch, as the play that sealed the NFC championship victory for the Forty-Niners would come to be known, marked the end of one dynasty and the birth of another. The torch was reluctantly passed.

Frigid

Number Two: Ice, Ice, Baby. December 31, 1967, Lambeau Field, Green Bay. The Ice Bowl is one of the most famous games in NFL history. Game time temperature was -13 degrees Farenheit. The wind chill was -48°. The great game came down to a Packers’ third and goal at the Cowboys’ one yard line. Players could be seen stomping at the ground with their cleats, trying to get traction. The Cowboys clung tenaciously to a tenuous 17-14 lead. They expected a pass. A completion would win the game and an incompletion would stop the clock for one last try. Instead, Quarterback Bart Starr ran a QB sneak right at defensive tackle Jethro Pugh and behind guard Jerry Kramer. Starr scored and the Pack won its third consecutive NFL championship, while the Cowboys were foiled and frustrated once again.

Agony

Number One: Jackie Smith. January 21, 1979, Super Bowl XIII. If you are a Cowboys fan 40 years old or older, it is doubtful that any former player’s name brings more gut-wrenching agony than that of Jackie Smith. Smith was a superb tight end who spent his entire career laboring away on a so-so Cardinals’ team. He was thirty-eight when the Cowboys signed him. With Dallas trailing 21-14, Smith dropped a sure-fire touchdown pass in the end zone. The ball just bounced off his chest. The Cowboys settled for a field goal, making Smith’s play a four-point debacle. The Cowboys ultimately lost by those four points, 35-31. If they had won, it would have meant that they and the Steelers each had three Super Bowl victories in the 70’s, with the Cowboys making five appearances to the Steelers’ four. Instead, the Steelers were proclaimed the team of the decade and the Cowboys’ remarkable achievement of appearing in half of the decade’s Super Bowls was relegated to a “nice” accomplishment.

Every team has its share of disappointments, and the Cowboys are no different. No team wins them all. This is the beauty of competition. The games, the plays, the victories, the defeats…they live on inside us. They fuel our heated debates. They fire our imaginations. They fill us with joy…or pain. They remind us of the human condition. They whet our appetite for more.

Popularity: 25% [?]

In this third installment of the SilverandBlueBlood Top Ten Top Ten, I turn my attention to the top ten plays in team history. In selecting the plays, I considered several factors:

1. How memorable was it?
2. What impact did it have on a game, a championship, or a career?
3. Was it extraordinary?

As you might imagine, a franchise of this caliber, with nearly fifty years of history, has provided more than its share of memorable plays and water-shed moments. I have dutifully sorted through every play in team history (anyone who believes that stand on your head) to compile my list of top ten plays in Dallas Cowboys’ history.

Romoriffic

Number 10: Greatest four-yard run in Team History. On September 30, 2007, Tony Romo chases down a snap that sails way over his head versus the Rams. He scoops up the ball, avoids chasing defenders, and gains four yards and a first down on what should have been a 30-yard loss.

Number 9: Larry Allen, the sprinter? On Monday Night Football versus the New Orleans Saints in 1994, Aikman throws a pass that is tipped into the arms of Saints’ linebacker Darion Conner. Conner streaks down the sideline on what appears inevitably to become a seventy-one yard touchdown interception return. Instead the 315-pound offensive lineman caught him at the sixteen yard line, and a legend was born.

Number 8: Emmitt gets the record. By 2002, the glory was fading. The team of the 90’s was floundering. Smith, however, had one more milestone – the biggest of his career – to pass. On October 27th, in a 17-14 loss to the Seattle Seahawks, Smith broke through in the fourth quarter with an eleven-yard gain. With that run, he surpassed Walter Payton, becoming the NFL’s all-time leading rusher.

Number 7: Butch Johnson’s circus catch in Super Bowl XII. Dallas dominated Denver and it was the defense that shined that day. But the number three receiver on the roster, Butch Johnson laid out in the end zone to haul in a spectacular 50-yard touchdown pass from Staubach.

Number 6: Meredith to Hayes. Cowboys 31, Redskins 30. November 13th, 1966, Don Meredith hooked up with the receiver who at one time had been recognized as the fastest man in the world, Bob Hayes, for a 95-yard touchdown pass. Hayes had 246 receiving yards that day, a Cowboys record that has yet to be seriously threatened.

Number 5: Aikman to Harper: A Dynasty is Born. With a tenuous four-point lead in the 1992 NFC championship game and just 4:14 left in the game, everyone expected Jimmy Johnson to give the Niners a heavy dose of Emmitt. What he gave them was a 15-yard Alvin harper slant that went for seventy-one yards, putting the Cowboy on the opponent’s nine-yard line and setting up the game-sealing score.

Number 4: Clint Longley, the Mad Bomber. On Thanksgiving Day, 1974, rookie QB Clint Longley came off the bench to replace an injured Staubach. He rallied the Cowboys from a 23-3 third-quarter deficit to a 24-23 victory. His 50-yard TD pass to Drew Pearson in the final seconds remains one of the most memorable plays in Cowboys lore. Offensive Guard Blaine Nye called Longley’s unbelievable performance “the triumph of an uncluttered mind.”

Number 3: Bob Lilly’s Super Sack. In Super Bowl VI, the incredibly tenacious and gifted defensive tackle known as Mr. Cowboy chased the weaving and bobbing Miami quarterback, Bob Griese, finally corralling him for a 29-yard loss. It was the signature moment in the Cowboys’ breakthrough game. For the first time in team history, they were Super Bowl champions…and no longer the bridesmaid.

Number 2: Tony Dorsett 99-yard scamper. On January 3rd, 1983, before a Monday Night Football national audience, Tony Dorsett broke off a 99-1/2 yard run from scrimmage. It remains the longest run from scrimmage in NFL history, and is a record that may someday be tied, but can never be broken. “Dandy” Don Meredith’s commentary during the run is classic. To further the legend, due to a sideline mixup, the Cowboys only had ten men on the field for the play.

Number 1: The Hail Mary. Oddly enough, the top two plays in team history came against the same team. No play in team history is more famous than the Hail Mary pass from Roger Staubach to Drew Pearson with just 24 seconds left in the 1975 wildcard playoff game against the Minnesota Vikings. On the verge of losing the game, Staubach heaved a last-second bomb, which Pearson caught by trapping it with one hand on his hip. He danced into the end zone to seal the 17-14 victory.

Popularity: 31% [?]

Poor Baby!

During the 2008 off-season, I began to call for Greg Ellis to be cut. I contended that, rather than being the leader he was purported to be, he had become a locker room cancer. In a recent radio interview – while on his way out of town to play for the NFL joke known as the Oakland Raiders – Ellis confirmed that he is more than just a selfish whine-bag: he is a moron, as well.

Here’s what the Dallas Morning News reports Ellis as saying:

“It’s a disgrace when DeMarcus Ware comes off the field just so I can get in the game and when the coaches tell him to come on the field, he tries to hide so I can play,” Ellis said during an appearance on ESPN 103.3’s Michael Irvin Show. “And you’re telling me we’re trying to win the Super Bowl?”

“On his own,” Ellis said. “He would say, ‘G, come on.’ And I would tell him, ‘No, DeMarcus, go ahead, man. You’re coming up on your contract year. Don’t mess that stuff up. Go ahead and do you, and we’re just going to do what the coaches, or whoever the powers that be, what they want to do.’”

This is wrong on so many levels.

First, I want you to notice that subtle nuance in paragraph two: the intimation that the only thing this is ever about is your own contract. I know this is professional sports and the man’s livelihood, but for four years, Ellis has made it crystal clear that he puts his own concerns above the team’s one hundred percent of the time. The guy was never underpaid. In fact, his compensation (that commisserate with a first-rounder) was more than adequate to reflect his performance and value to the team.

Second, a few days later on Sports Radio 1310 (the Ticket), I listened to an interview with DeMarcus Ware. He did not out-and-out call Ellis a liar, but he didn’t get his back either. He said, “I think I was in there like 95% of the time.” He said every time he happened to be on the sideline for a play, it was for a valid reason. Ware was certainly in there enough to record twenty sacks on the season!

Third, Ware being off the field has no bearing on Ellis being on the field. They do not play the same position. Ellis doesn’t back up Ware or vice versa. One is strong-side; the other weak-side. Ware won’t say it, so I will: Ellis is either twisting the truth, misinformed, or making up stories.

Fourth, Greg Ellis has to be a moron to think that the media would just bob their heads and accept whatever he said at face value, as though they don’t watch the games themselves, as though they don’t have access to the other player in question. And even if the media let it pass, knowledgeable fans will not.

For years, every time a Cowboy fan saw Ellis on the field, he was reminded of the player the Cowboys bypassed in order to draft him. That would be Randy Moss. While Ellis has enjoyed a career as a serviceable – but never a standout – player, Moss has stretched defenses, caused offensive coordinators nightmares, and established himself as a top five player at his position.

For four seasons, Ellis has spent every off-season bitching and posturing. If it wasn’t money, it was the team switching to the 3-4 (the move that helped finally make him a Pro Bowler for at least one season). Or, it was team management. It was always something. Then, the season would begin and he would be hailed as a team leader. No wonder they have gone nowhere in a dozen years. Leaders like that never take an organization to the pinnacle of success.

So, good riddance to poor, mistreated Greg and good luck to the Raiders.

Popularity: 8% [?]

Some are grizzled enough to remember when Saturday afternoon during the slow season meant you would be treated to ABC’s Wide World of Sports. The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat! This timeless line from that program is forever embedded into the consciousness of a nation of sports lovers.

As much as any fan, I detest the agony of defeat. I hate it when my team loses. I especially hate it when they lose to their hated rivals. It hurts. Sometimes, that pain stays with you. I still smart over the two losses the Cowboys suffered at the hands of the Steelers in Super Bowls X and XIII. My mind still works on ways they could have won those games.

Conversely, Super Bowl XII versus the Broncos is one of the sweetest memories of my life. I watched that game with my very best childhood friends, and our guys dominated. It was pure ecstasy.

My first personal experience with the thrill of victory, as with many guys, came during my Little League Baseball career. I am a lefty, so, naturally, I was cast as a pitcher. I threw hard, but was often wild. The result was that only the very good batters had the nerve to stand in against me. The rest were just trying to figure out when they needed to hit the dirt. I played for the Athletics. Our city’s league was not sanctioned, I guess, for there was nothing beyond the city championship. If you were city champions, that was the pinnacle of achievement in Mineral Wells, Texas.

My second and final year on that team, we made it to the championship game. Our ace had pitched the semi-final. He would be playing short stop the night of the championship…and batting clean-up, as always. That meant I would be on the mound. Despite three hit batters, I pitched a shut out. I also delivered a home run in the first inning. It was a glorious night. We were city champions, and I was a hero. That was the sweetest thing: the thrill of victory.

Later that Fall, playing linebacker and returning punts and kickoffs for the Hornets, I found myself on a football team contending for the Pop Warner city championship. What a year I was having! Ah, but this game was so different from the baseball experience. We were rolled by the team with the best halfback in the city. I have no idea how many yards he gained, but I know he broke several long runs right over me. He seemed like the result of some mad scientist’s mixture of Jim Brown and Gale Sayers. We lost…big!

I cried that night. I lay in my bed and the hot tears of humiliation and anger stung my cheeks.

It wouldn’t be until many years later that I would come to realize that the agony of losing is just as important and just as meaningful to one’s life as the thrill of victory. In fact, if you didn’t have the one, you wouldn’t have the other. If all you ever did was win, it would surely lose its thrill. Just note how fat and sassy – and nit-picky – fans of dynasty teams become during their team’s dynasty. They moan and bitch about every little thing. Then, as soon as the inevitable cycle occurs, when their team is no longer the best, they become sentimental and review “the good old days” through their rose-tinted beer steins.

Winning all the time would mean that you are probably out of your league. Your competition isn’t up to par. So, your victories are cheapened. It would be like you were the smartest kid in the remedial class.  No one, not even the very best, win all the time. Not Federer, not Tiger, not the Yankees, not the Steelers…not (sniff) even the Cowboys.

Even for champion-caliber teams and individuals, there is the bitter taste of what my dad used to call, “almost, nearly, but not quite hardly.”

The person who can deal with defeat as well as he handles victory is a well-rounded, complete individual. If you can lose and not be crushed or win and not be vain, you are the kind of person every person ought to be. If you can hate losing, but still give a nod to the victor, if you can defeat your opponent and accept the accolades with real grace (and not false humility), then you are living and learning the life lessons the sports arena is best designed to teach.

This brings to mind one of my favorite poems by one of the world’s great poets. I give you IF, by Rudyard Kipling:

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream – and not make dreams your master;
If you can think – and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build ‘em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on”;

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings – nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And – which is more – you’ll be a Man my son!

Someone said, “It’s not whether you win or lose; it’s how you play the game.” We all, intuitively, know better. Winning and losing does matter. Each is a possible outcome. One is sweet; the other bitter. But, as another has noted, “Losing isn’t fatal and victory isn’t final.”

So, play to win…but win or lose, your life is richer because you dared, because you cared, because you were there. You experienced it. You lived it.

You really lived.

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