It was the best of times. It was the worst of times.

And I am still having a hard time believing what happened in this tale of two cities, two teams, and two football fates.

With a 12-point lead and just over five minutes remaining in the fourth quarter, the Dallas Cowboys managed to squander what would have been a formidable division lead and lose a gut-wrenching, heart-rending, back-breaking game to the New York Football Giants.

Final score: 37–34.

As soon as the punch-drunk, dumbfounded Cowboys fan sobers up, he will want to know whose fault this is. To whom do we assign blame for this epic meltdown?

The usual suspects will be scrutinized first.

Coach Jason Garrett, fresh off the debacle in the Arizona desert and the worst day of his brief head coaching career, will get his share of crotch-kicks. There will be the usual complaints of how he should have run here or thrown there or done something else that might have saved the game.

Tony Romo will be targeted. By football idiots, mostly.

Romo was 21 for 31 with 321 yards passing. He threw four touchdowns and no interceptions. He did take a sack in his own end zone to start the game. He also missed a crucial downfield pass to Miles Austin that would have sealed the win.

Let us not forget, however, that, after the Giants had taken the lead and left but 46 ticks on the clock, Romo drove his Cowboys from their own 20 yard line to the Giants’ 30 and set up rookie kicker Dan Bailey for a game-winning field goal.

I guess Romo could have played interior line on the kick team and blocked Pierre-Paul to keep him from blocking the FG attempt. Other than that, I am not sure what more you could have asked of him on that last drive.

If you are blaming Romo for this loss, you either did not watch the game or have no clue about the game of football. Romo was solid with flashes of brilliance. His offense racked up 444 net yards and hung 34 points on the world’s biggest scoreboard.

Um, hello? That ought to be enough offense to win a home game in the National Football League. If you are too silly to understand that, then please refrain from watching football and stay away from sharp objects and Sudoku puzzles. We don’t want you hurting yourself.

So, whom do we blame?

How about Rob Ryan and the vaunted Ryan family tradition of blitzing every down, whether it is working or not? How about the uber-blitzing, coverage-blowing, 510 yards-and-37 points-yielding, Swiss cheese defense?

How about mixing in a defensive stop every now and then, especially when the game is on the line and your offense has presented you with a 12-point lead and just 5:30 to kill?

How about not lining Gerald Sensabaugh up 35 yards from the line of scrimmage so that he cannot even lend assistance on a 19-yard Eli Manning pass that looked more like a punt? May as well have sent your safety for a couple dozen Krispy Kremes. He was closer to the Krispy Kreme on Cooper Street than he was the line of scrimmage.

How about maybe not holding a receiver that was running into double coverage anyway, Frank Walker?

How about not sending DeMarcus Ware onto the field with his shoulder screaming and his arm hanging limply at his side, especially when Victor Butler is playing well in his stead? The result of putting the ailing superstar back into the game: two crucial neutral zone infractions.

This was a massive loss, a meaningful loss, with major implications.

It was another reminder that this Dallas Cowboys’ team is not ready to be called elite. They could not defend their home stadium. They could not defend their goal line. So, it is no surprise they were unable to defend their slim division lead.

They lost a game they could have won and there is plenty of blame to go around.

Blame it on Rob Ryan. Blame it on the defensive backfield for getting toasted at the end of the game. Blame it on the defensive front’s inability to put much pressure on Manning. Blame it on Jerry Jones and that deal he made with God (or was it the Devil?) back in the ’90s.

Heck, blame it on a gutsy performance by the Giants or the “brilliance” of Eli Manning’s quarterback play. But, don’t blame me. Don’t blame yourself.

And just once, please, don’t lay all the blame on Tony Romo.

Sunday was a familiar sight for beleaguered fans of America’s erstwhile Team.

Phoenix, Arizona is not known as a tough place to win a football game. Unless, of course you are the Phoenix Cardinals or the Dallas Cowboys. Historically, the Cardinals have struggled to win football games anywhere (with one brief Kurt Warner-induced respite) unless they are playing the Cowboys.

This Cowboys 19–13 overtime loss to the Cards had no business going to overtime and no business being a loss. Because it was both, it proved to be business as usual.

This loss also proved a few other things…

It proved Jerry Jones, the World’s Dumbest Billionaire (not an official title, but I am working on it), is wrong again. When he derisively called Jimmy Johnson a “walk-around coach” and intimated that it is better to have your head coach serve as his own offensive coordinator, he was dead stinking wrong.

At the end of regulation, Garrett apparently got lost on the sideline. He had two timeouts in his pocket and failed to use either of them when he should have. The Cowboys were driving for the winning score. A timeout would have bought them the opportunity to claim more of the Cardinals’ real estate and get rookie kicker Dan Bailey an easier shot at kicking a game-winning field goal.

Garrett eschewed using a timeout until his kicker was lining up and making a game-winning field goal. Then, at the last second, the Cowboys’ coach became the first in NFL history to ice his own kicker. As the ball sailed between the uprights, the referee was blowing the whistle and awarding the head coach/offensive coordinator his timeout.

Saying a head coach is better off serving as his own coordinator is almost as stupid as saying a team owner should serve as his own General Manager. Sunday was Exhibit A for Jimmy Johnson’s argument against a head coach bogging himself down in the minutia of coordinator duties. It is almost impossible to consider the big picture and control all the dirty details simultaneously.

Garrett’s inability to manage the clock and game strategy at the most crucial time in the contest is beyond inexplicable. it is inexcusable.

So, shut up, Jerry. Go peddle stupid somewhere else. We’ve had our fill.

Another thing the loss in the desert proved is that the Cowboys remain a middle-of-the-pack kind of team.

Good teams take care of business against bad teams. Middle-of-the-pack teams almost beat good teams (see the Jets and Patriots games) and then lose a game or three to bad teams. Good teams play disciplined football. So-so teams have players like Orlando Scandrick nullifying big plays by committing braindead penalties at inopportune times.

Green Bay is a good team. New Orleans. Good team. Dallas…you know. So-so.

NFL.com features a headline today that reads, “Cardinals Shock Cowboys in Overtime.” Only someone that has not paid attention to the Cowboys for the past decade and a half would be shocked by that debacle in the desert.

Now that the tenth anniversary of 9/11 is done and we are no longer “all New Yorkers,” the good Texans can get back to being bitter about their team losing a game they were supposed to lose, but never should have lost.

Your Dallas Cowboys once again began an NFL season with a near-miss.

According to Tony Dungy, Rodney Harrison and Tyrannosaurus Rex Ryan, the Cowboys were supposed to lose to the New York Jets and lose big. None of them saw what was coming, because what was coming was a better team than Team Green. A better offense. A better coaching staff. A better game plan. A better quarterback…

Well, wait. Check that. The quarterback thing: Let me retract that. More talented? Yes. Better? Not so much.

So, who to blame?

Tony Romo is an obvious choice. First, he fumbles on the goal line, trying to make more out of a play than was there. This at a time when a field goal would have done just fine. Then, after the defense made a valiant stand to get him the ball and an opportunity to win the game in the waning minutes, he hit a wide open Darelle Revis right between the numbers.

This will have many saying, “Same ol’ same ol’.”

Or, “See? Romo sucks!”

We could blame the punt team. Or its coach: Joe DeCamillis. NFL teams are not supposed to give up a blocked punt to someone charging right up the gut.

A militant few will blame Jason Garrett just because he is redheaded or something like that. Those people I pay no attention to because they obviously do not know great coaching material when they see it.

I am going to go ahead and let my favorite punching bag share some of the blame. You know him as the man with the common name and the uncommon ability to turn the simplest communication into utter nonsense.

I am talking about the man whose commitment to winning has nothing to do with anything but his own ego. I am talking about the man that punked Tom Landry. I am talking about the only man in the history of the world to run off a coach immediately after his team won back-to-back championships.

I am talking about the man who found a way to stroke his ego and keep himself in the national spotlight without winning anything but the vote of the citizens of Arlington, Texas.

This man allowed his team’s archenemy, the Philadelphia Eagles, to swoop in and steal the free agent cornerback his team so desperately needed. This man pinches pennies on personnel from his magnificent billion-dollar edifice. This man was content to enter the 2011 NFL season dangerously thin at cornerback.

This man has a mortgage to pay.

This man had us all watching a kid named McCann do his dead-level best to cover Plaxico Burress.

Blame whomever you like. I say Jerry Jones is as much to blame as Tony Romo and the punt team.

Dateline: Cowboys Stadium, Arlington, Texas – December 19, 2o1o

The Dallas Cowboys and Washington Redskins played two games in one on Sunday. The first was a blowout, with the Cowboys jumping out to a comfortable, commanding 27–7 lead. The second game was a nailbiter that saw the Redskins, still down by 16 going into the fourth quarter, make an improbable comeback to tie the game, 30–30.

The Cowboys ultimately won the two-in-one game, 33–30.

But I am burying the lead here.

View from Section 453

The big story of the day is that I attended my first ever game at the new Cowboys stadium. Well, I was technically in the stadium. My father-in-law and I were in row 11, section 453. We may have been closer to home plate at the nearby Rangers Ballpark than we were to midfield at Cowboys Stadium, but we were in the house, thanks to a wonderful birthday gift from my lovely wife.

Consequently, I am able to file this official bleacher report for the 102nd meeting between one of the NFL’s most storied rivalries.

There is not a bad seat in the house.

I had heard people say that, but was skeptical after having toured the complex a couple of times. It is hard to imagine how a place so massive, with so many seats, could possibly afford a decent view of the action for all of its patrons. But they do.

We sat in the northeast corner of the stadium, not far from where a few doves hang out in the rafters. We were not in the nose-bleed section. We were in the section above that. Still, we agreed that our vantage point was not bad. We could see the action on the field just fine, plus we sat in such a place that we could see both the end zone-facing video board and the 60-yard monstrosity facing the sideline.

The game presentation is magnificent.

It is sensory overload. The sound system in the stadium is outstanding. As we moved about, exploring, the quality and clarity never altered. The video presentation, as one would expect, is second to none. They keep you engaged even during television downtime.

The Dallas Cowboys fan base has changed.

Beyond words...

Back in the 1970s, when the Cowboys were one of the two best teams in the league, there were constant complaints about how stoic the Cowboys’ fans were. In places like Pittsburgh and Denver, fans were rabid. But in Dallas, they were more “polite.” They cheered, but they just didn’t want to break a fingernail doing it.

Jerry Jones came along and made the Cowboys more of an “every man’s” team. For one thing, he immediately obtained licenses to sell booze at Texas Stadium, a thing they had not been able to do before. Nothing loosens the tongues of fans like getting them good and oiled.

One local radio personality used to say that the Dallas sports fan was the “coke and boob job” crowd. You know, the yuppies. The movers and shakers.

Those folks are still around, sure. But they have had to make room for the redneck factor. The average Cowboys fan today is blue collar, hard working, passionate, and ready to get rowdy and loud and poke a finger in the chest of a Redskins’ fan whenever appropriate.

Moreover, the Dallas Cowboys appear to be the official team of Mexico and all her descendants — and they know a thing or two about being passionate fans.

The Party Pass is not a bad deal.

Jerry Jones’ brainchild, the standing-room-only open areas in both end zones, for which fans pay just $29 to be a part of the scene, is a hit. We left our seats just outside the Pearly Gates and descended to earth to watch the final five minutes with the party crowd, just to get a feel for it…and to be near an exit.

It was a hoot.

Costumes abounded. Friendly confrontations between Cowboys fans and Redskins supporters erupted here and there. It is safe to say there are no passive fans in the party crowd.

Dallas Cowboys fans have to deal with transplants and carpetbaggers.

About ten percent of the Crowd was dressed in Redskins garb and there to cheer the ‘Skins and boo the ‘Boys. The same thing happens when the Eagles, Giants or Steelers come to town. Heck, even the Detroit Lions have fans in Dallas.

It isn’t that those teams have such a broad fan base. It isn’t that their fans travel well. It is simply that those places are stuck up there in the Northeast, where the cost of living is through the roof, the weather is better suited to penguins, the job market sucks and so does the traffic, and the skies are all cloudy and gray.

So, they hightail it to Mecca. They pick up and move to Dallas, scoop up our jobs, clog up our roads, take up space in our Tex-Mex joints, and boo our team.

In the past twenty years the Dallas/Fort Worth area has swelled to more than six million people. We may be productive, but we are not that reproductive.

Nope. A huge part of the growth is due to transplants and carpetbaggers, who didn’t forget to pack their war paint and headdress when they fled the Beltway.

While waiting to be frisked and get into the stadium, I turned to a group of four Redskins fans and said, “So you come down here to get your money, but you keep your loyalty to the place you fled?”

One of them grinned and said, “That is about right.”

To him I replied, “Yeah. Sounds about right…for a Redskins fan.”

When the New Orleans Saints bolted to 17 points in just their first 15 offensive plays, the rude guests looked as if they would gobble up their hosts, the Dallas Cowboys, without so much as a “thank you,” belch contentedly, and maybe even take a nap somewhere around the fourth quarter.

But these Cowboys are no body’s turkeys, not since they fired the mascot-masquerading-as-a-head coach, Wade Phillips, and promoted the no-nonsense, never-say-die Jason Garrett.

These Cowboys bite back.

These Cowboys managed to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat, taking an unexpected, almost unbelievable, 27-23 lead late in the fourth quarter.

After falling behind by 17, these Cowboys outscored the Saints 27-6.

These Cowboys, under the leadership of the 1994 Thanksgiving Day hero, the backup quarterback who forever etched his name in Cowboys’ holiday lore right alongside that of Clint Longley, were ready to score an unlikely upset victory over last year’s Super Bowl champions and Drew Brees, a quarterback drawing constant comparisons to Joe Montana for crying out loud.

These Cowboys were hungry.

But then, the team that snatched victory from defeat’s jaws had it snatched right back on the 15-yard line. A play that should have salted the game away for the home team instead gave the visitors one more chance to spoil everyone’s dinner. Poor, unfortunate Roy Williams, a favorite target of disappointed fans and underwhelmed media types ever since Jerry Jones gave up too much to get him from the Detroit Lions, was speeding toward the end zone, having snatched a short pass on a quick crossing pattern and then out-running defenders for more than 50 yards.

Roy would not make it to pay dirt. Instead, he would be caught, have the ball wrestled from his hands, and find himself standing on the sideline with that failed, sheepish grin on his face, watching Drew Brees take his Saints 85 yards in just 68 seconds to reclaim the lead, 30-27.

All the Saints would need is for kicker David Buehler to miss a 59-yard field goal attempt and they could breathe a sigh of relief and dream of turkey and all the trimmings. Buehler missed. His leg was more than strong enough, but he pulled the ball ever so slightly.

The Saints celebrated their own Thanksgiving Day miracle, but did not celebrate a massacre.

It is safe to surmise that, if this game had been played just three weeks ago, these Dallas Cowboys would have given up on a game where they fell behind by 17 points in barely more than half of a quarter. It would not have been surprising to see them humiliated before a snickering nation of Cowboys-hating, turkey leg-wielding, kinfolk-tolerating football fans, loosening their belts to accommodate their swollen bellies and enjoying the demise of America’s former team almost as much as Grandma’s pecan pie.

Thanksgiving Day was a miracle for Cowboys nation.

This is not a fan base given to accepting moral victories. We prefer Lombardi trophies, thank you very much. But, Landry is dead, Jimmy Johnson only talks Cowboys and doesn’t coach them, and Wade Phillips—despite his own misgivings about the hollow numbers he put up while taking up space where a coach is supposed to stand on the Cowboys’ sideline—was no Landry or Johnson. He was, instead, the man whose lack of perspective, inability to lead, and laissez-faire approach to team management almost completely destroyed a team.

The miracle this Thanksgiving was not on the final scoreboard, unfortunately. That, although much closer than most thought, ended up about the way folks figured it would, with the Cowboys on the short end. The miracle, my friend, was in the fight. Make no mistake, there were mistakes made by the Cowboys, both by players and by their head coach. But they fought. They scrapped. They stood toe-to-toe with the team that most recently hoisted that coveted Lombardi trophy.

When the final gun sounded, the Saints were heaving a sigh of relief rather than waking from a dreamy nap. Considering where this Cowboys team found itself at the end of the Phillips era (with a 1-7 record and in complete disarray), that was a miracle.

For that, all Cowboys fans can be thankful.

Despite all my best efforts to prevent it, my knee keeps jerking. When a writer is a fan first, he has the liberty to throw the mythical notion of objectivity out the window and just say what he thinks or feels.

After a loss like the one the Dallas Cowboys suffered at the hands of the overmatched-but-still-victorious Washington Redskins, a fan/commentator finds it nigh impossible to keep his knee-jerking under control.

So, then I ask myself: Why bother? And I cannot give a decent answer.

Therefore, I shall proceed to knee-jerk like a spastic, freshly-murdered corpse whose nervous system hasn’t quite reconciled itself to its new condition. And, since everyone loves a list, I will do it in orderly fashion.

I can count on one hand the reasons the Cowboys lost to the Redskins and on the other hand I can count the reasons Jerry Jones’ dream of his team becoming the first in NFL history to play a home game for the Super Bowl is only slightly more likely than Texas Rangers’ skipper Ron Washington speaking the King’s English in a post-game press conference.

Five Reasons the Cowboys Lost to the Redskins

1. Wade Phillips. Wade is a brilliant defensive coordinator whose defense, once again, played brilliantly. The Redskins’ offense hasn’t scored a TD on Wade’s boys in three games. It is a beautiful thing to have a bona fide x-and-o genius coordinate your defense…unless you also give him the keys to the head coach’s office. That call at the end of the first half, the one that called for a hail mary or something insane like that, the one that every peewee football coach in captivity knew should have been a kneel down, was one more in a long line of firable offenses. But Wade won’t be fired. He is too good at being Jerry’s hand puppet. I know that many will blame Offensive Coordinator Jason Garrett for the call, and I am sure he shares in it. But any head coach worth his salt has to know to veto such a bonehead move…and have the mettle to do it.
2. Jason Garrett. Yes, Garrett gets his share of the blame, and not just because of the blunder at the end of the first half. His play-calling mixed the genius of innovation with the miracle of the absurd. From calling nothing but three-step drops and quick screens to opting for a halfback pass near the opponent’s goal line, Garrett displayed a total lack of confidence in his prize collection of stellar offensive talent.
3. Alex Barron. There is a reason a first-round left tackle is available for trade. There is a reason the guy wasn’t good enough to be on the lowly St. Louis Rams’ squad. Simply stated: He sucks. He was caught holding three times in the ballgame, and every time mattered, but none mattered quite so much as the time he nullified the winning touchdown pass on the game’s final play.
4. Brian Arakpo. The defensive end-turned-outside linebacker was a tour de force. He wreaked some pretty good havoc and caused match-up problems for both of the offensive tackles, especially the knucklehead Barron.
5. Mike Shanahan. Somehow, Shanahan navigated the treacherous waters of unhappy 100 million dollar giant defensive lineman Albert Haynesworth, successfully introduced a new 3-4 scheme defense, and got just enough out of his offense to score an unlikely opening day upset victory over the hated Cowboys. There have been worse coaching debuts, for sure.

Five Reasons the Dallas Cowboys Are Not Likely to Become the First Team to Participate in a Super Bowl at their Home Stadium

1. Wade Phillips. After the devastating loss, a battle-weary and beaten-down Phillips faced the media. He accepted the blame for the disastrous last play of the first half, the one that resulted in a turn-over and touchdown for the Redskins. But then he proceeded to ease that blame over to the player, saying how silly it was for Tashard Choice to be fighting for an extra yard on such a play. Blame-shifting and excuse-making have been hallmarks of Wade Phillips’ tenure in Dallas. As long as that remains the case, it is highly unlikely he will ever lead this or any other team to the ultimate prize. Moreover, his team often seems unprepared on game day, too mistake-prone, and sometimes downright shell-shocked.
2. Jason Garrett. If the object of the game was to rack up as many yards between the twenty yard lines as possible. Garrett’s offense would be the most dominant in the league. But it isn’t. His erratic play-calling and poorly-timed trickeries more often than not result in field goal opportunities, punts, or turn-overs. He continues to show flashes of brilliance, but seems mostly incapable of designing an offense that finds a groove and stays in it. He often seems to outsmart himself.
3. The Offensive Line. All that firepower the Cowboys tout— i.e., the three-headed running monster, the Miles Austin-led receiving corps, all that talent at tight end, the supremely gifted Tony Romo at quarterback— means absolutely nothing if your offensive line cannot dominate the line of scrimmage. The Cowboys are trying to hold on until Kyle Kosier and Marc Colombo get back from injury. But these guys aren’t spring chickens and even when they return, there is no guarantee they play at the high level they are accustomed to, nor is there any assurance they won’t be plagued by an injury recurrence.
4. David Buehler. This kid has a cannon for a leg. There is no arguing that fact. As a kickoff specialist, he is a weapon. He can even clean up behind his kick coverage team and make spectacular tackles when necessary.He remains, however, a huge question mark in the field goal department. He made nine of ten kicks in the preseason. But this is not preseason and he is Oh! for one after missing a 34-yard attempt Sunday night.
5. The Green Bay Packers. The Packers did not play well in Philadelphia. Aaron Rodgers did not have a great day and admitted as much after the game. The played poorly. But…they won over a lesser opponent! The Cowboys faced an even more vulnerable opponent in the Redskins. The Cowboys didn’t have their A game either…and they lost. Good teams lose games they should win. Great teams win games they should probably lose.

Hey, I know. It is only week one and I have already admitted that this article is a classic example of disgruntled fan knee-jerking. My overreaction, however, does not mean there is no reason for concern. I am not yet ready to raise the white flag of surrender. But I sure see some red flags when I look at this team, not to mention a few too many yellow ones.

This is, I know, just one loss in a 16-game season. I am not quite ready to declare Fed Ex Field Wade Phillips’ Little Bighorn. I do believe, however, that if he doesn’t find a way to get this team to play to its potential, the 2010 season may well be his last stand.

I know it should be.

Choice run

I am sure NBC’s stellar broadcast crew hoped for a better game to close out Chris Collinsworth’s inaugural season in the catbird seat. They would have loved a nail-biter, a classic, one for the ages.

They didn’t get a nail-biter or a classic. They did get one for the ages. They got the game that finally put an end to so many sorry moments and haunting memories for the Dallas Cowboys, their coach, their quarterback, their owner, and their fans. They got the game that made the D in Dallas big again.

So, welcome to Big D, where the D stands for…

Determination

All year, there was a different look and feel about this team. Stung by his post-game comments a year ago, after his team suffered one of the most humiliating losses in team history— a 44-6 rout at the hands of the Philadelphia Eagles— when he said, “If this is the worst thing that ever happens to me, I have had a pretty good life,” Tony Romo changed his tune.

Apparently, Romo went to the Troy Aikman school of athlete-speak. Remember how vanilla and bland Aikman’s responses to media questions were when he was a player? It was one cliche after another. It was enough to make you wonder at Fox giving him a color analyst job, once he retired. Then, we learned, after his playing days were done and he no longer shouldered the burden of the highest profile position in professional football, Aikman actually does have a personality…and opinions…and poignant observations.

Romo kept his focus on the team, its improvement, and its march toward excellence. If he used the word “improve” once this year, he used it seventy-five billion times. No matter what the question, his answer was, “We just need to keep improving, keep getting better, and we will be alright.”

“Hey, Tony, what is your favorite color?”

“We just have to execute. Continue to improve.”

“Hey, Tony, how is the love life since you dumped Jessica Simpson?”

“We just have to execute. Continue to improve.”

“Hey Tony, what did you get for Christmas?”

“We just have to execute. Continue to improve.”

That single-minded purpose was echoed throughout the locker room, and on both sides of the ball. This team had something to prove, and they were determined to prove it.

They were also determined to stick together. None of the “me-ness” that permeated the Terrell Owens infected locker room of a year ago. No sniping. No whining about playing time or ball distribution or play-calling. No pointing fingers. Even the NFL’s emerging star at the wide receiver position, Miles Austin, resisted the selfishness so commonly associated with his position and kept it all about the team.

Desperation

When the Cowboys reached that 8-5 mark, after losing consecutively to the San Diego Chargers and New York Giants, faced with the ominous task of going to New Orleans to play an undefeated Saints’ team, they could have folded. Many in the Dallas media predicted they would not win another game. They would fall to 8-8 and miss the playoffs. Wade Phillips would be fired, and rightfully so. Romo would be fitted with the choke collar. Jerry Jones would be brutalized in the media. And Cowher or Shanahan or Gruden or somebody would mount the white steed and ride in to save the day.

That could have happened. But it didn’t. It didn’t because this team became urgent, desperate even. They were not ready to be counted down, let alone out. They set their jaws, defied the odds, baffled the pundits, and man-handled the Saints. Then they shut out the Redskins. Then they zip-locked the Eagles.

Then they donned the celebratory NFC East Champions ball caps on the sideline, and some said, “Uh oh. They are celebrating too soon. They think this is Mission Accomplished. They are setting themselves up for disaster.”

Nope! That desperation hit the field again on Saturday night. Like the Bubonic Plague it spread its fever through the team and into the stands. The team played like their hair was on fire. The fans screamed, yelled, taunted, cheered, jeered, and foamed at the mouth. They had the fever, but it was only lethal to the Eagles, who remained cold and lifeless in the face of…

Domination

If it weren’t for the Cowboys, the Eagles would have been at home this week, resting and game-planning for their first postseason contest next week. If it weren’t for the Cowboys, the Eagles would be the second seed in the NFC. If it weren’t for the Cowboys, the Eagles would be flying high right now, rather than soul-searching and arguing over whether McNabb should be finished in Philly.

The Eagles were a high-flying, scoring machine in 2009. They were ranked fifth in the league, and would have ranked much higher, if it wasn’t for the nasty little detail of having to play their division nemesis the Dallas Cowboys twice. Against the Cowboys, the Eagles scored a grand total of 30 points in three games. That is ten points per game, or 2.5 points per quarter. They were shut out once. They were dominated thrice.

In the Cowboys 34-14 whipping of the Eagles, they dominated McNabb, holding him to a passer rating of 68.5, sacking him four times, and confusing him all night long. They dominated the Eagles’ running game, holding it to 56 yards on 13 carries. They dominated the prolific Tweeter and game-breaker DeSean Jackson, shutting him down in the first half and holding him to a grand total of 14 yards on three catches, including one meaningless, too-little-too-late  touchdown. They dominated Philly’s blitz-happy defense, gashing it for 198 yards on the ground, another 244 through the air, and four touchdowns.

The Cowboys also dominated the Eagles in one other area: coaching. I know it seems unlikely, but three out of three times, Wade Phillips and his staff outmaneuvered, out-flanked, and flat out-coached the venerable Andy Reid and his staff of geniuses.

Yep. The “D” is big in Dallas again. For years, it stood for “doubt,” “disappointment,” “delusion,” and “damn.” Now it stands for “defense,” “delight,” and (Dare I say it?)…DESTINY.

Big is the way the “D” is meant to be.

Welcome home, Big D.

It was supposed to be the perfect night. It was to be the perfect cherry atop the perfect season in the perfect place. New

Perfect!

Orleans, the city hammered by Katrina and then pummeled by FEMA, would show the world their indomitable spirit and their unique ability to party their way through any sort of disaster and come out the other end, drink in hand, shouting “I dare ya” in the Devil’s face.

It was the perfect stage: They had the national spotlight all to themselves. It was the perfect opponent: that hated team with the silver pants, the shiny new silver – and – glass stadium, all those silver Lombardi trophies…and that infuriating silver spoon stuck in their smug gobs.

The have-nots would finally deal the haves their come-uppance. It would be glorious. It would be…perfect!

The crowd was sauced. The signs were all made and ready to wave in America’s face. The pundits—to a man (this one included)—were all certain this contest would belong to “dem Saints.” The “Who Dats” were finally set to become the “We Dats.” This would be the last major challenge, the last big hurdle to get over. Then, the boys in the Gold and Black would sprint down the homestretch and into the playoffs, sporting a perfect 16 – 0 record, and ready to zip past all NFC comers to the Super Bowl, where the other perfect team—the 16 – 0 Colts—would be waiting to play them in the perfect ending to the perfect season.

Perfection would show his elusive face in the Cowboys—Saints contest Saturday night, December 19, 2009. Only he would have a mind of his own. He would choose the wrong team. He would shun the Fleur de Lis and, instead, don the Star.

Perfection would be the Redheaded Boy Genius calling all the right plays, pushing all the right buttons. Here a run; there a run. Now a deep pass. Cowboys 7, Saints 0. Perfection would return a punt, pound the rock, dash up the sideline, blast defenders off the line, and finally, dive, braided locks flying, into the end zone. Cowboys 14, Saints 0.

Perfection would be bookend linebackers named DeMarcus Ware and Anthony Spencer harassing the league’s newest darling, Drew Brees. They would hurry his throws, hit him in the chops, flush him from the pocket, sling him to the ground…and then do it some more. Perfection would be Ware, a wounded linebacker who wasn’t expected to play in the contest, making two key sacks, forcing two key turnovers, and sealing victory for the underdogs.

Perfection would be the other quarterback: The one who couldn’t win the big games. The one who folds like a K-Mart umbrella when the calendar reads December. While Drew Brees turned the ball over three times, Tony Romo—for the fourth consecutive week—avoided throwing an interception. What he did throw was a perfect deep ball to Miles Austin to put his team up 7 – 0.

Romo protected the ball. He managed the game. He rallied the troops. And when he needed to, he threaded the needle.

Perfection was a team motivated by necessity. Perfection wore the grim look of determination on its face and played with a distinct sense of desperation. He didn’t need a field goal from Nick Folk to seal the game, nor did he require a key third down catch from the still way – too – erratic receiver Roy Williams. Who needs those guys when even Bobby Carpenter is making plays?

As it turns out, the underachieving Cowboys were the perfect spoiler for the horseshoe-carrying Saints. New Orleans should have lost to Washington. They could have lost to Carolina. They didn’t. Luck was partnering with Perfection, conspiring to keep their perfect season intact. The Saints just kept winning and winning and winning…until most everyone was convinced they would never do anything but win.

Meanwhile, the Cowboys had held the high-scoring Chargers to their lowest season scoring output. They had strung together five straight weeks of stellar defensive performances. On offense, they had moved the ball at times with precision, only to break down in the red zone. They just had not put it all together for an entire game since their big win in Philadephia.

The Cowboys were better than they appeared. The Saints were not quite as good as they seemed. So, the Cowboys did what no one gave them a chance to do: They won the game, 24 – 17.

The Saints still control their own destiny. They still have the conference lead in wins. Now, the Cowboys control theirs, as well. If they can post wins in their last two games—against the 4 – 9 Redskins and the 9 – 4 Eagles, they will win their division.

Who knows? These same two teams may meet in the same place in a few weeks with much more on the line.

Wouldn’t that be…perfect?