Junior Seau Dead at 43

Junior Seau was one of the greatest linebackers in NFL history. The hard-hitting phenom posted an astonishing 1,524 tackles, 325 assists, 56.5 sacks, forced 11 fumbles, and recovered 18. At one of the league’s most violent positions, he forged for himself a sparkling 20 year career. Twenty years!

Seau got to play for his hometown San Diego Chargers for 13 years. His name became synonymous with the club and he helped to lead them to their only Super Bowl appearance in the 1994–95 season. He was also a part of the New England Patriots’ undefeated regular season in 2007. Unfortunately, neither campaign resulted in a championship ring for the great linebacker. Championships notwithstanding, Seau’s career is the stuff football legend.

To say that Junior left a mark on the game is a gross understatement.

Now he is dead. At 43. Gone.

Preliminary indications are that Seau took his own life, shooting himself in the chest.

Seau’s death is being compared to the death of former Chicago Bears safety Dave Duerson. Last year, Duerson also committed suicide by shooting himself in the chest. The stark difference in the two is that Duerson left a suicide note, explaining that he shot himself in the chest rather than the head, because he wanted his brain to be used in the study of how the trauma of professional football damages the human brain.

According to CBS News, Seau left no suicide note. He simply texted “I love you” to his wife and their three children.

What medical science will reveal about the toll football may take on the human brain remains to be seen. There is an emerging picture that seems pretty stark. What Seau’s death says about this subject may forever be unclear.

What seems crystal clear, however, is the message that this man was in the clutches of despair. This man that had reached the highest pinnacle of his profession. This man that had earned millions of dollars in his career. This man that played the game he loved and all but transcended that game. This man who seemed to have so many reasons to live could not think of one that would keep him from ending his own life.

The sadness of it is palpable. The sorrow of those closest to him, those who loved him best is heart-wrenching. 

Even if some good comes of this tragic death—some advancement in medical science, some warning to younger NFL players—it will not assuage the sorrow of his family.

If there is an immediate lesson to be learned, I think it is this: Despair is not reserved for the down and out. Despair may touch the person whose life seems as full and rich as Junior Seau’s. The up and out are as vulnerable to it as the down and out.

Whether it is the emptiness one feels when the stadium lights go out on a career for the last time, or the nagging  feeling there was work left undone, or the stark reality that what has always defined you as a person is now forever a part of the past, despair may may seep into the human psyche and become so entrenched as to skew perception and alter reality.

Most who read this will have never scored a touchdown or recorded a tackle in the NFL. But you do something. You build something. You teach something. You repair something. There is something you do that is a part of you.

But what you do is not you. What you do is not the sum total of who you are. What you do is not what determines your value. You are who you are, even when you cannot do what you do anymore.

And that matters. Not just to you, but to them that know and love you best.

That Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones is inept as a general manager in the National Football League is now so painfully obvious that it has ceased to be worthy of mention. Pointing out his management guffaws is like shooting fish in a barrel or beating your seven year old grandson in an arm wrestling match. There is just no joy in it, no sense of fulfillment.

I just happen to be joyous and fulfilled enough to do it anyway.

The announcement that kicker David Buehler has been cut brought to mind the worst draft in the history of the Dallas Cowboys, and one of the worst in the history of professional football.

If you remain unconvinced that Jerry Jones is lost as a GM, unless he has his hand held by an actual football man like Jimmy Johnson or Bill Parcells, I give you (drum roll, please) your Dallas Cowboys’ 2009 NFL Draft extravaganza.

You be the judge, the jury and the helpless fan.

Round by round, here we go…

Round One

Your Heroes had no pick. Jerry had already used it to acquire—wait for it!—wideout Roy Williams. Yes, that Roy Williams. The Lions used the Cowboys’ 20th pick on TE Brandon Pettigrew. Still on the board to be taken later in round one: Clay Matthews (Packers, 26th overall) and Hakeem Nicks (Giants, 29th overall).

I would give this a grade, but I do not want to insult teachers.

Round Two

The Cowboys had the 19th pick and traded it to the Buffalo Bills for the number two third round picks and a fourth rounder. Let’s withhold judgment until we see how this turns out.

Round Three

With the fifth pick (from the Browns), the cowboys take LB Jason Williams out of Western Illinois. In his first three years in the league, Williams has amassed an astounding 20 tackles. (Yes, my tongue was in my cheek there.) He has never worked his way into the starting lineup. He’s a bit player at best; a two-bit player at worst.

With the 11th pick of the third round (from the Bills), the Cowboys take OT Robert Brewster. If you do not know anything about him, don’t bother. He was hurt his rookie season and when he healed, they discovered he couldn’t play. He’s no longer with the team.

Round Four

With the first pick in the fourth round (from the Lions), the Cowboys select QB Stephen McGee out of Texas A&M. McGee was a fabulous high school quarterback, a decent college quarterback on a team that had no real passing game, and has been—and shall forever remain—a backup at best in the NFL.

The 10th pick in the fourth round is spent on LB Victor Butler from Oregon State, because, in a three-four defense, you can never have too many quality linebackers. Butler is a quality backup linebacker. In three years, however, he has managed just 30 tackles and 15 assists. Not the worst mid-round pick ever, but not the man you want to hang your hat on as the best pick of your 2009 draft, which he probably is.

The Cowboys traded for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers’ 20th pick in the fourth to snag DE/LB Brandon Williams—a brilliant move. (Again, facetious.) Williams recorded three tackles in 2010, then moved on to Arizona, where he did nothing at all.

Fifth Round

The Cowboys traded with the Oakland Raiders to get the seventh pick in the fifth round. They saw something they liked in CB DeAngelo Smith, out of Cincinatti. DeAngelo ended up playing in Detroit in 2009, recording six tackles. That’s it. Nothing since.

With the 30th pick in round five, the Cowboys took FS Michael Hamlin. Hamlin made it through the ’09 season and part of 2010 before he was set free. His numbers were nil.

Number 36 in the fifth was spent on K David Buehler, the strong-footed, linebacker-looking kicker our of USC, whom the Cowboys cut yesterday. He was supposed to be for the purpose of kicking the ball too deep to return on kickoffs and for kicking the ridiculously long field goals. He was a luxury the Cowboys could not afford. And he was not that luxurious anyway.

Sixth Round

In this round, the Cowboys picked up SS Stephen Hodge,TCU, and TE John Phillips, Virginia. Hodge is another bust. John Phillips has proved himself a player, especially in the blocking game. He has shown potential as a receiver, as well. That’s good, because the second round pick from the 2008 draft, Martellus “Marty B” Bennett, another colossal bust, is likely on his way out.

Seventh Round

Here, the Cowboys picked up CB Mike Mickens from Cincinatti and WR Manuel Johnson from Oklahoma. For some reason, the Cowboys were completely enamored with the Cincinatti Bearcats’ backfield. They took two players from that unit. One has worked out about as well as the other. If you don’t remember Mickens or Johnson, it is likely because you are not family or a close personal friend to either of them.

I would offer insightful commentary on the lost draft of 2009. I would mention how a team cannot afford to just skip entire years of drafting and developing quality players. I would talk about Jerry Jones and company and how overmatched they are in the NFL.

But the facts do not need me. They speak for themselves.

It is a great time to be alive and living in Dallas/Fort Worth.

Dirk Nowitzki— the NBA finals MVP, world champion and Dallas Mavericks great— threw out the first pitch at game three of the World Series, where the Texas Rangers find themselves for the second straight year.

The very next day, last year’s American League MVP and Rangers’ great Josh Hamilton served as honorary captain for the coin toss of the Dallas Cowboy – St. Louis Rams’ game at Cowboys’ stadium.

The Cowboys went on to crush the Rams 34—7 on the strength of DeMarco Murray’s record-setting day toting the pigskin. Murray rushed for 253 yards, eclipsing Tony Dorsett’s 206-yard Cowboys’ rookie record for running backs. He also surpassed Emmitt Smith’s Cowboys’ single game rushing record of 237 yards in a game.

More importantly, Murray, Romo, Witten and company pulled themselves back to a .500 record. They now sit 3—3 and tied for second place in the NFC East, one game behind the New York Football Giants. Not great, but not bad.

As Cowboys’ Stadium emptied, the Ballpark in Arlington, a mere stone’s throw away (if it is Nolan Ryan throwing the stone), was cram-packed with rabid Rangers’ fans ready to get the taste of a 16—7 drumming at the hands of the St. Louis Cardinals out of their mouths. Stung but not stunned, the only team to have ever been owned by an eventual United States president silenced the might Cardinals, 4—0, and evened the 2011 World Series.

The Mavericks are reigning NBA champions, a title they may hold an extra year the way the NBA labor talks are going. The Rangers are repeat World Series participants. The TCU Horned Frogs and SMU Mustangs are enjoying a resurgence on the college football scene. The Trinity Trojans of Euless are a perennial national powerhouse in the all-important world of high school football.

Heck, even the soccer team, FC Dallas, played for a championship last year.

While we wait for our beloved Dallas Cowboys, the flagship Metroplex sports organization, to join the party, we will be satisfied to cheer the baby steps.

Thank you, DeMarco.

To Roger, with Love

Remember that summer when you went away to camp and fell in love? You got the girl’s address and began writing love letters back and forth. Well, the letters written from NFL commissioner Roger Goodell to the NFL players and the one written back to the commissioner by a handful of players are nothing like those summer camp love letters.

They are more like the texts you fired off after the break-up.

Last week, I reported on Goodell’s letter to the players and found myself wondering why, if such offers were made, this labor dispute was not resolved. Why were the players being so selfish? Hadn’t the owners made significant concessions?

Now, I have read the players’ response and I am like, “Ohhhh. Maybe the owners have not been as magnanimous as it seems.”

(I know. I am a Piñata. Whack me and I fly that way. Whack me again, and I fly this direction. Keep whacking me and I am going to burst.)

The players’ letter was signed by eleven players, which, oddly enough is just the right number to symbolize a “team.” NFLPA president Kevin Mawae is the first name on the dotted line. He is joined by Drew Brees, Brian Dawkins, Mike Vrabel and other notables. There is not a “spare” among them.

Goodell is a lawyer by trade, so it stands to reason he may have actually penned the letter he sent. Or, he could have had a minion write. Who knows?

I do not know which of the players wrote their letter. Maybe they all sat around a conference table and collaborated.

“Yeah. Put that in.”

“Hey. Don’t forget this.”

Or, maybe a lawyer or team of NFLPA lawyers drew it up and then the players read it, liked it and signed it. It is all conjecture and hardly worth belaboring, so I will stop.

The players’ letter to Goodell was much more detailed than the Commissioner’s letter.

First, they exonerated themselves of culpability in this lockout. They write:

The NFLPA did all it could to reach a fair collective bargaining agreement and made numerous proposals to address the concerns raised by the owners.  In response, the owners never justified their demands for a massive give-back which would have resulted in the worst economic deal for players in major league pro sports.

In other words, Don’t blame us. This is all your fault.

Then, the players called Goodell a liar.

“Your statements are false,” they wrote.

Liar, liar. Pants on fire.

They backed this up by laying out no less than 14 “facts.” Since this letter is clearly as much for public consumption as it ever was for Goodell himself, they may have forgotten how short our attention span is or how easily we are overwhelmed with information overload. I mean, we are football fans; not legal aides.

But facts are facts and they had 14 of them.

(I also contend that Goodell’s letter was a public relations move as much as it was a headlock, arm-twist and noogie for the players.)

I just cannot see my way clear to write out all 14 facts in this article, especially when I am giving you this link so you, faithful reader, can consume them at your leisure.

One of the more telling facts, however, is number five, which is actually built on the foundation of the first four facts:

Your proposal would have resulted in a league-wide giveback by the players of 576M in 2011 increasing to 1.2 BILLION in 2014, for a total of more than 3.6 BILLION for just the first four years.  Even if revenues increased at a slower rate of only 5%, the players would still have lost over 2 BILLION over the next four years.  These amounts would be even higher if your stadium deductions apply to the first four years (your proposal did not note any such limits on these deductions).

The 14th and final fact is kind of a summary:

The cap system for the past twenty years has always been one in which the players were guaranteed to share in revenue growth as partners.  Your proposal would have shifted to a system in which players are told how much they will get, instead of knowing their share will grow with revenues, and end the partnership.

If the facts check out, one can see that the players have a legitimate beef.

Still, the rancorous tone of the letter seems ill-conceived and, I fear, threatens to paint them in an even worse light with the average NFL fan. The bottom line is they have fans, not because of their sense of justice or their righteous cause. They have fans because they run faster, hit harder and play the game we love better than the rest of the planet.

Saints Fans don’t want to see Drew Brees’ name on an angry letter to Roger Goodell. They want to see it etched on the Lombardi trophy. Besides, this thing won’t be settled in the court of public opinion. It will be either settled in the court of robed lawyers, aka judges, interpreting the law consistent with their ideological leanings and political indebtedness, or (more likely) at the bargaining table.

(OK. Call me jaded. But tell me whether the guy was appointed by Bush or Obama and I can just about give you his ruling before he makes it. So, call me Nostradamus instead.)

While I do find myself moved ever so slightly back in the players’ direction, I find myself, like most fans I talk with, hacked at both sides and unable to identify with either.

Ricky Williams, the Miami Dolphin and renowned lover of herbal things, tweeted Sunday, “It’s turned into the billionaire-millionaire fight. I think you have missed the point. Mass media trumps common sense once again.”

He seems frustrated that you are so stupid. I predict his frustration will only grow, because it will always be billionaires fighting with millionaires to Joe the plumber and Jimmy, who manages the night shift at McDonald’s.

That, I am afraid, is fact 15.

Call it guerrilla warfare— or gorilla warfare, if you prefer. NFL Commissioner Roger Goodell decided to be the 800 pound gorilla in the living room of every NFL player.

Unsuccessful in moving the NFLPA so much as an inch in the owners’ direction during mediation, Goodell has taken the fight to the trenches. He sent a letter to every player in the NFL.

Maybe he was inspired by the recent revolutions around the globe that have been fueled by social media, such as FaceBook. Maybe he has seen the power of the grassroots to throw off leadership and blaze a new trail. Whatever his inspiration, the commissioner has side-stepped the decertified NFL Players Association and gone straight to the rank and file to plead his cause.

In his letter to the players, Goodell used several noted and battle-tested tactics.

First, he sought to plant doubt in the player’s mind regarding the leadership provided by his representatives.

“Last Friday,” Goodell writes, “The NFLPA walked out of the federal mediator’s offices in Washington, told us that it had abandoned its right to represent you as a union, and filed a lawsuit.”

The implication, of course, is that the leadership betrayed the players’ trust by refusing to negotiate and then relinquished their right to represent the players when they decertified. The NFLPA betrayed the very people they were sworn to represent. That is the gist of Goodell’s opening statement.

Next, Goodell intimated that the NFL and its member clubs are the real friends of the player.

“The clubs believe there is only one way to resolve our differences, and that is through good faith collective bargaining in an atmosphere of mutual respect…”

Ah. You poor, poor, ignorant soul. Don’t you see who really loves you? We are not the enemy. We are your friends. We only want what is best for you.

Goodell’s next move was to divide and conquer the players. He sought to drive a wedge between the veteran players and the younger guys. He pointed out that the NFL’s proposal to the NFLPA was a salary cap that “would avoid a negative financial impact on veteran players.” He even underlined the phrase, “avoid a negative financial impact.”

The fan, you see, is not the only incredulous party when a rookie signs a record-breaking contract before he ever plays a down of professional football. Veterans that have proved their mettle on the field of play feel the sting when a snot-nosed kid gets a contract that makes his own look like a part-time wage. Goodell implies that it will be the kids, not the veterans, whose compensation will be reduced under the new salary cap structure.

Another piece of the propaganda onslaught is the promise of Utopia. Under our leadership, the prospective leader promises, there will be a chicken in every pot. Goodell used this tactic by outlining the NFL’s proposal to reduce the off-season and OTA workout requirements. He notes changes in insurance options and better income protection for injured players.

Goodell’s parting shot is to remind the player that his own popularity with the fans and goodwill from the general populous of NFL supporters depends on the the two sides getting together.

“Our fans want us to get together,” Roger writes.

And he is right. We do.

When you read the offer made by the owners to the players, you have to wonder what exactly there is not to like about it. Concessions were made. Guarantees were given. Concerns were addressed.

But it still wasn’t enough.

It is little wonder then that General Goodell opted to engage the troops themselves. Negotiations never went anywhere. The NFLPA declared war by taking the fight to the justice system. And you know what they say: All is fair in love and war.

To hear Goodell tell it, this affair is both love and war.

Note: You can read Roger Goodell’s letter to the player in its entirety here.

What is the NFFFL? Stick with me, and I will tell you.

About the time you figure out which side you support in the NFL lockout, someone on that side makes a remark that makes you think twice.

One thing that has become painfully obvious to me is that the concern for the fan is little more than lip service from either side.

Another thing that is painfully clear: These guys— owners and players alike— are convinced that you, the fan, will be right there to cheer them on when all of this is done. It does not matter how their greed, selfishness and stupidity may be ruining the game, the NFL will be as popular as ever when the differences are finally set aside and play resumes.

NFL fans may return a little more jaded. Some of the luster of the game may be tarnished for the younger fans. But all will be forgiven, stadiums will be filled, television ratings will be through the roof, and the NFL will still be the king of American sports.

Meanwhile, owners like Jerry Jones act like the rulers of the world we have made them. In a recent article, Jim Trotter of Sports Illustrated gave an unflattering picture of Jones during the negotiations between the NFLPA union representatives and the NFL owners’ executive committee. Trotter writes:

“I don’t think we’ve got your attention,” Jones said to the players, several of whom recounted the incident to SI. “You clearly don’t understand what we’re saying, and we’re not hearing what you’re saying. So I guess we’re going to have to show you to get your attention.”

Jones tapped his fists together for emphasis—the players interpreted it as a sign that a lockout was coming—then stood and walked toward the door. As he reached the end of the table, Panthers owner Jerry Richardson, another labor hawk, began to rise, but Robert Kraft of the Patriots, who was sitting next to him, put a hand on Richardson’s forearm and kept him from going.

If Jones’s intention was to intimidate the players, he failed. “I think everybody in the room thought it was overly dramatic, almost hilarious,” one player said. “It was like a Jerry Maguire moment. You know, ‘I’m leaving. Who’s coming with me?’ I know it didn’t scare any of us.”

For Cowboys’ fans, Jerry Jones being the world’s oddest mixture of arrogance and ignorance is nothing new. But wouldn’t you have loved to be a fly on the wall when the delusional billionaire showed himself an ass and made himself a fool?

So, with owners like Jerry Jones and Jerry Richardson, the Carolina Panthers’ owner whom the players accused of being condescending to them, it is easy to be on the players’ side right?

Wrong.

Meet Adrian Peterson, who thinks his job is a lot like Chicken George’s.

In an interview with Yahoo Sports, Peterson shared the following nugget:

It’s modern-day slavery, you know? People kind of laugh at that, but there are people working at regular jobs who get treated the same way, too. With all the money … the owners are trying to get a different percentage, and bring in more money.

Do I really even have to dignify such stupidity with a retort? No? Thank you.

Watching the NFL owners and NFL Players Association duke it out over the billions of dollars we have provided them with our blood, sweat, tears and passionate loyalty is enough to turn even the strongest football stomach. Their excesses have already priced the common man out of the stadium. From Personal Seat Licenses to ten dollar hot dogs, many NFL fans have given money they could not afford to men who do not appreciate it.

These men lord over the football kingdom with a sense of entitlement. Owners clamor for more money, claiming they are going broke. Players whine about how short a football career is and how they have to make all the hay they can while the sun shines on them. Meanwhile, Joe Plumber and John Q. Public would gladly go broke in the same way as an NFL owner and dream every day of retirement that will likely never come.

Yet, these delusional participants in a squabble over your money want more than your support. They want your sympathy. Go ahead and give it to them, if you want.

I, for one, am this close to saying, “Let the whole thing burn to the ground.”

Let Jerry Jones go broke. Let Adrian Peterson learn what it means to work for a living.

Let the people rise. Let the one voice that ought to be most prominent finally be heard.

How?

Glad you asked.

There is a new league in town— the People’s league. I am calling it the National Fed-up Football Fans League (NFFFL). We have a Manifesto, which you can sign and share by using your FaceBook “like” button. Find it here. Read it. Sign it. Share it.

Any professional sports league is a public trust. The NFL does not belong to the team owners, the commissioner or the current players. It belongs to you. It belongs to me. These are our teams. This is our sport. This is our time.

Stand up. Speak up. Don’t shut up until they sit down and get down to the business of returning our game to us.

You kind of have to wonder whether, as the the Dallas Cowboys assemble their war room for the 2011 NFL draft, they will hang a few “Most Wanted” pictures up on the wall. After the Great Collapse of 2010 (a name I just made up for the disaster that was last season), this team has been shown for what it is: A team with the potential to be a contender, if they can fill a few gaping holes.

Obviously, there are not ten gaping holes on this team. They are not the Carolina Panthers. Still, the way drafts go, you cannot always address your greatest need with a given pick. For instance, you may need a safety really, really bad, but if there is not one on the board that warrants being taken with the pick in hand, you turn your attention to other things.

So, here we go: My version of the Dallas Cowboys top 10 positional needs this off-season, from greatest to least.

Number One: Strong Safety— The Alan Ball experiment at free safety was an unmitigated disaster. His inability to be a play-maker back there put immense pressure on the cornerbacks and even brought Gerald Sensabaugh’s effectiveness down a notch.

Sensabaugh could be more than serviceable as a free safety, if he is next to a run-supporting, ball-hawking, play-making whirling dervish as strong safety. If you want to be a top defense in the NFL, you almost have to have that guy. Look around the league at the best defenses and you will find team leaders and play-makers galore at the safety position.

Number Two: Right Tackle— Marc Colombo has been a good player in his day. He has been a fierce competitor and a leader on the offensive line. His day appears to be past. With the emergence of Doug Free at left tackle, the Cowboys must turn their attention to getting younger, healthier and more mobile on the right side.

Number Three: Guard— I am not saying whether it is right guard or left guard, because either Kyle Kosier or Leonard Davis needs to be replaced. Kosier has battled the injury bug and Davis, a man for whom they named a mountain range out in the west Texas wilds (I assume they did; I could be wrong), takes up a ton of space, but doesn’t open running lanes or provide pass protection as well as you would think.

Number Four: Cornerback 1— It is my contention that Terence Newman has always been a little bit overrated. He has been to two Pro Bowls, but in this age of players begging out of the game and substitutes being named left and right, who hasn’t?

Newman actually recorded five interceptions in 2010, a career high. If you watched all 16 Cowboys games, however, you had to come away with the impression that Newman was at his least effective in 2010. A receiver catching a ball over his shoulder with Newman looking like a vapor trail behind him was an all-too-familiar sight in 2010.

Number 5: Defensive End— I guess everyone who thought Marcus Spears was a bust just didn’t know what a bust really looks like. Meet Igor Olshansky. I swear, this guy ought to have to buy a ticket and sit in the nose-bleeds to watch a game. The only thing he brought to the stadium was a cool Russin hit man-sounding name and an over-enthusiastic dance when he made one of those extremely rare plays during the course of the season.

The over-tatted, muscular Olshansky started 16 games and recorded 17 tackles. He was brought here by Wade Phillips and it says here he can leave and go dance “with the one that brung ‘im.”

Number Six: Inside Linebacker— Keith Brooking has been a great player, a great influence, and an all-around great guy throughout his career. Two of those three things are still true. Might be time for him to go into coaching. Bradie James has been hit and miss throughout his fairly solid career. He needs more hits and fewer misses.

The Cowboys were ranked 23rd overall defensively in 2010. They gave up 108.6 yards per game, putting them at number 16 in that category. They were most vulnerable straight up the middle, where they were often gashed for huge chunks.

Number Seven: Nose Tackle— Look, I know Jay Ratliff is a player. I love him. I love him on this team. I just wonder if the Cowboys signed a big-bodied run-stopper at nose tackle, moved Ratliff to defensive end and kicked Olshansky to the curb, would it fix what ailed the porous, ineffective defensive line of 2010? Ratliff is undersized for a nose tackle. On run plays, he is too easily man-handled by the double team, putting the opposition’s runner into the second level of the defense, where the linebackers miss him and the safeties try to run him down.

Number Eight: Halfback— Felix Jones ran for 800 yards and averaged 4.3 yards per carry. That is not a bad showing. He scored one touchdown. That is a bad showing. Jones did not display that burst he had earlier in his career. The home run hitter became a hit-for-average guy, which is not scaring any defensive coordinators. Tashard Choice ran for 243 yards and three touchdowns.

Put those numbers together and you have a thousand yard back and four touchdowns. (Feel free to yawn here.) That is marginally acceptable, but not impressive by any means. One of these guys has to take charge or someone (from Alabama, perhaps) needs to be drafted.

Number Nine: Cornerback 2— After a Pro Bowl year in 2009, Mike Jenkins took a huge step in the wrong direction in 2010. He recorded only one interception while giving up a ton of yardage. He was also spotted, more than once, playing Matador with ball carriers. He made what Deion Sanders famously called “business decisions,” meaning he elected not to stick his head into a play and make a tackle.

I am beginning to worry about a possible knucklehead factor with Jenkins. Hopefully, he rights his ship in 2011, under the direction of new defensive coordinator and renowned cusser, Rob Ryan.

Number Ten: Kicker— David Buehler is the best athlete the Cowboys have ever had at the kicker position. That and five bucks will get you a Grande coffee at Starbucks. Buehler was 24 for 32 on field goals (75%), which is respectable. He was just four for seven from 30–39 yards out, which is not respectable.

One has to wonder if the studly kicker isn’t better suited to kicking off and covering kickoffs than kicking game-winners as time expires.

As you can see, the Dallas Cowboys have plenty of work to do. If they can just get the whole talent-evaluation thing down, it seems like they can hardly go wrong in the 2011 draft. They have needs—some urgent, some not so much— all over the field. If they can plug just two or three of the most glaring holes, I could see them making a hearty playoff run next season.

Then Cowboys fans can take down their “Most Wanted” pictures. You know, the ones with Jerry Jones’ mug on them.

Everyone envies the professional athlete. He has all that money, all that fame, all that talent.

With the minimum NFL salary being $325,000, and most players earning well more than that, you would think if there was ever a union suited for sitting it out, it would be the NFL Players Association. Those guys have plenty of money, right? They can afford to miss a season if they have to. Right?

Wrong.

According to SI.com, “By the time they have been retired for two years, 78% of former NFL players have gone bankrupt or are under financial stress because of joblessness or divorce.”

Ouch!

Should we really be so surprised, though? The story of the instant millionaire is often a sad one. How many times have we heard of lottery winners going broke, or worse? One day, this person is making twelve bucks an hour and struggling to make rent. The next, through no ingenuity or skill of his own, based on the random selection of numbers, he holds in his hand a check for seven figures or more.

That money becomes the hot potato. What to do with it?

Why, invest it, of course!

OK, but where? How? With whom? Here’s a guy that couldn’t figure out how to save twenty bucks a week for a rainy day and now he has to make a wise investment with his millions?

Good luck with that.

How many NFL players were coddled through high school and then guided in college towards classes they could easily pass? How many of them graduated or left school early and could barely fill out a job application? Maybe not as many as you think, but certainly more than is acceptable.

Even the brightest athletes, however, may never have been in a situation where money management and investment was a major concern.

Add that to the fact that most of them get the biggest paycheck of their life when they are in their early twenties. Then, it is time to party like a rock star or live the rapper’s dream. Go to the strip club and “make it rain.” Drop a couple grand on a dinner for your hot date. Buy that Maserati and the $20 million crib.

Jeremi Duru of Yahoo Sports writes the following concerning professional athletes whose finances fail them:

People making such outrageous salaries have no excuse for quickly going broke, but they do have explanations, which tend to include some form of the following: “I didn’t think it would end so soon, and when it ended I wasn’t prepared.” Some never save a thing, and their last paychecks are spent before they get them. Others accumulate some savings but watch it disappear when their NFL income streams dry up. Still others lose huge sums of money to risky investments about which they might have thought twice had they known their time in the NFL was almost done.

Pablo Torre, of SportsIllustrated.com, writes:

In this month alone Saints alltime leading rusher Deuce McAllister filed for bankruptcy protection for the Jackson, Miss., car dealership he owns; Panthers receiver Muhsin Muhammad put his mansion in Charlotte up for sale on eBay a month after news broke that his entertainment company was being sued by Wachovia Bank for overdue credit-card payments; and penniless former NFL running back Travis Henry was jailed for nonpayment of child support.

On the other side of the bargaining table sit the owners. Billionaires, every one of them. Men who live in the harsh reality of the financial world every day. Men who understand investment and risk/reward. Men who have decided that they would welcome a lockout before they would continue with the status quo of the current Collective Bargaining Agreement. Men who will still share television revenue amongst themselves, even if there is no game to televise. Masters of the universe. Keepers of the most popular game in America.

Which side do you think is best prepared to weather the storm?

Sure, the players can say, “Without us, they have no game.”

But the owners can say, “Without us, you can play all you want— you just won’t get paid for it.”

Meanwhile, the avid football fan that works his fingers to the bloody nub to keep the wolf from his front door tries to forget it is really his money, his paltry pittance and the pittance of tens of millions like him, they are fighting over. And he will. He will ignore that nagging voice that proclaims him a fool for being so invested in these men in costume, these men who might not spit in his mouth even if his guts were on fire, these men who greedily grab for one dollar more while he doesn’t have two dimes to rub together.

The fans will forget their anger and return. The players will concede when the pressure gets turned up by the hundreds among facing impending disaster. The fat cats will win. They almost always do. That is why they write the checks and the rest of us just cash and spend them.

But, I hope I am wrong.

I was invited by the NFL Players Association to cover the first annual edition of the Legends Brunch on Sunday morning. I don’t mean to name-drop, but Deacon Jones, “Mean” Joe Greene (a native Texan, you know), Jack Youngblood, Ronnie Lott, Floyd Little and John Lynch were there…along with others.

Most of these men are in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. They are legends…and they were game-changers.

OK, I did mean to name-drop.

Read the article here: http://bleacherreport.com/articles/599081-nflpa-legends-brunch-there-were-giants-among-us

Dallas and its sister cities cannot seem to catch a break. Super Bowl XLV brought more international  media attention to the city than any other event since President John F. Kennedy came through here in 1963.

We all know how that Kennedy visit turned out.

Thanks to the shaky mental state and the steady trigger finger of Lee Harvey Oswald, Dallas got a big black eye she didn’t deserve.

Forty-eight years later, Jerry Jones, the man who some thought of as an assassin himself when he lopped off Tom Landry’s head, was all set to redeem the Dallas–Fort Worth Metroplex. Cowboys Stadium, the 1.4 billion dollar home of America’s Team, would be the focal point of the entire world.

The Dallas Cowboys have gone to the Super Bowl eight times. But in a year Dallas could not go to the mountain, Mr. Jones, with the help of super hero Roger Staubach brought the mountain to Dallas— well, to Arlington and Dallas and Fort Worth and… The Metroplex comprises a host of host cities.

Super Bowl XLV would be redemption for Big D. Finally, that horrible monkey would be lifted from her back. The world would celebrate her and all of her conjoined sisters.

But that was before the official weather report came out. That was before the disaster dominoes began to fall.

You would have had to be in Egypt during Super Bowl week to find a place having a run of luck worse than Dallas/Fort Worth. In fact, this may as well have been Egypt and Jerry Jones could be Pharaoh,.

The plagues were descending.

Maybe there was something to that hole in Texas Stadium and God watching his favorite team play. Maybe, the marginally-talented cheap-shot writer Skip Bayless was right when he derisively dubbed Tom Landry “God’s Coach” in a book title. (See how I did that? I used my marginal talent to take a cheap shot at Skip, who has never done anything to me except tick me off with that book he wrote.)

Maybe Super Bowl XLV was not redemption for Dallas. Maybe it was Judgment Day for Jerry Jones. I only suggest that because even Jerry Jones and his deep pockets cannot rein in the weather.

To borrow from the wisdom of the late, great Ray Charles, the weather “do what it do, baby.”

Or, it does as it is commanded from on high.

It wasn’t just that Dallas–Fort Worth was paralyzed by an ice storm of historic proportions for most of Super Bowl week: There were other things going awry, as well.

1. The response to the weather. We already mentioned it, but this was Green Bay-like weather. The Metroplex was stuck in a deep freeze for four days. The roads were iced over. The sand truck crews could not keep up with the demand. Accidents everywhere. Bridges and major highway connectors were impassable at times.
2. The accident at Cowboys Stadium. Ice slid from the roof of the massive domed stadium and landed on seven people, sending them all to the hospital. One man was even listed in critical condition for awhile.
3. Twelve Hundred temporary seats were not ready in time, so fans who paid massive amounts of money to have a seat in the stadium, didn’t have a seat in the stadium.
4. Christina Aguilera. Need I say more? She was supposed to give Whitney Houston a run for her money in the Super Bowl of national anthems. Instead, she focused so much on her vocal runs, that she bungled the words and sounded like a transvestite trying to imitate Christina Aguilera.

Add to these problems the fact that the national media bitched and moaned all week about one thing or another. If it wasn’t the weather, it was that the Metroplex is too sprawled out and you have to drive too far to get from one event to another.

Here is a sampling of some of the media whining during Super Bowl week:

Peter King of Sports Illustrated tweeted, “I’m telling you: I-30 between Dallas + Fort Worth is a plow-less, snow-windswept moonscape. This is officially a debacle.”

Newsday NFL Columnist BobGlauber: “NFL owners approved NY/NJ Super Bowl at a meeting last May in … Dallas. Getting a sneak peak at what is might be like with the snow….We know snow in NY/NJ!! Super Bowl won’t be like this one, NY/NJ OWN plows, salt trucks!”

Detroit radio personality Jamie Samuelson said, “I hope some writer writes a column praising Detroit this weekend. We were totally prepared for bad weather. Dallas, clearly, is not.”

Jim Rome: “Six inches of snow? Really, Dallas? Good luck getting another Super Bowl.”

The best of the complaints was from David Ubben, an ESPN writer: “A foot of snow for All-Star Weekend? Ice and six inches of snow for the Super Bowl? What did Jerry Jones do to Mother Nature’s daughter?”

It wasn’t Mother Nature’s daughter he wronged, Dave. It was God’s Coach.

Payback is hell.

The wrath was tempered by mercy, however. The game was actually competitive and remained undecided until the last minute. And, more importantly, the hated Pittsburgh Steelers did not claim their seventh Lombardi trophy in our house.

God is good.

Besides, the Super Bowl XLV debacle will not be remembered as long as that Kennedy thing. This is the age of Twitter and FaceBook. News moves at light speed. By the time news makes the news, it is old news. Kids today cannot remember what they had for breakfast. They sure won’t remember what happened in Dallas way back in 2011.

Jerry Jones is counting on just that as he begins to put together his bid for Super Bowl L.