Why Cowboys Aren’t Super Bowl Material
We all know the tired phrase “What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” right? I apologize for even using it here, but I think of that phrase almost every week. Specifically I think about it when I watch the Dallas Cowboys.
But, Tom, you might say, Dallas is nothing like Vegas. Everything’s bigger in Texas. Who shot JR? (Insert Rick Perry or “W” joke here). Don’t worry, I’m not a geography dunce; I even know where Rhode Island is on a map.
I think of Vegas every time I watch the Cowboys because they are the glitter and sparkle, the cheesy wedding chapel, and the Cirque de Soleil of the NFL (Side note: To me, you can’t be a circus without animals or midgets. But mostly animals). The Cowboys seem to want to be America’s team more than it wants to be America’s champion. They have the biggest screen ever, they have cheerleaders practically conducting pole dances on stages around the stadium, the players enter the field through a restaurant, making the $14 mozzarella sticks almost worth the price. They are a show first, an NFL team second. Those teams don’t win. I know, I’m a Jets fan.
It starts with the owner, who is not even the coolest or most successful sports team owner in his own city. Mark Cuban runs circles around Jerry Jones, then tweets about it, and makes up t-shirts. Jones is the driving force behind Cirque de Solame, but poor Jerry gets picked on too much. So I’ll spare him.
Let’s break down the Cowboys by their major parts to figure out if the circus will perform in a Super Bowl anytime soon:
- Tony Romo. You love him, you hate him, you mock him. But the truth is he is an above average quarterback (see: Gabbert, Blaine) and he is one tough bastard. He takes more hits than the crowd at a Dave Matthews concert and gets right up. Guy played with broken ribs. Sure he fumbled the point-after snap that ended their season, but that might just be the football gods punishing his owner. I’ve owned Romo in fantasy and over the course of a full season; he will help you get into the playoffs, for good draft value. Unfortunately, as in real life, if you have to play him in the playoffs you take the chance that someone else is kissing your league’s trophy.
- Diz Bryant. No, no, no auto correct, I meant to type Diz. As in dizzy. Dez Bryant, to me, is on the Bo Jackson Plane of Potential (A linear plane, not an airplane). I’m a huge fan of Bryant’s. I was leading my opponent by 20 points heading into Monday night; if Diz Bryant pulls down 23 points, I lose. Well thanks to his Michael J. Fox hands and Romo’s too strong arm and too weak eyes, he only pulled in 20 points and I escaped with a win. And a mighty scotch hangover.
- Miles Austin. I have nothing to say here, I just love saying Miles Austin.
- Rob Ryan. I love the Ryan brothers but I fear that once SI did a cover story on them (the best non-swimsuit cover ever because it said “Sweet Live Ass”) they’ve kind of lost their luster. Skinny Rex is not nearly as funny; and Robby cut his hair, so all his powers dissipated in a Samson-esque manner.
- The NFC East. Let’s face it, this division has the best collective NFL rivalries. Every game is brutal and it prevents any team from being a huge power in the conference, until Eli and Coach Crankpot are getting killed on sports radio, their jobs on the line, reel off three wins to end the season (all at home by the way, thanks to NFL schedulers), and embark on an unlikely Super Bowl run making a ho-hum 9-7 team world champions and allegedly cementing Eli and Coach Crankpot into the Hall of Fame just weeks after their own team’s fans wanted to pink slip them. That might be the longest sentence I’ve ever written.
I think the Cowboys have a lot of talent, and the pieces you need to win a lot of games. Their head coach is as solid as the owner is a caricature. They do a lot of nice things, except win down the stretch. They will keep us entertained into and perhaps beyond the holidays. But for my own money I’d rather flirt with a cocktail waitress in the real Vegas. Then go heckle Cher.