My 'Boys will never be the same. A long time ago, I blogged about the arrival of Bill Parcells to coach my beloved Dallas Cowboys. I was never a big Parcells guy, and, despite two winning seasons since then under him, I'm still not.
Then came Bledsoe, the quarterback I always thought was just the guy you wanted when you didn't want to win a big game. He surprised me, after years in New England where I watched him do very little, it was his performance in the AFC Championship Gane, in the Patriots' first Superbowl title run. He had been benched earlier in the season, injured, and on came Tom Brady. The rest, of course, is history, but for that AFC Game, Brady went down, and Bledsoe came in. He drove them to the SuperBowl: it was the first time he had ever impressed me. When he came to Dallas, I groaned: back to the same old Bledsoe. Ready to throw the key interception when you need him to.
But none of that matters. Not after last week. The most disturbing image I have ever seen in professional sports, outside of Joe Theismann's leg being broken, or having to look at any professional figure skater met my eyes:
Terrell Owens, AKA the biggest asshole in professional sports, signed with the Dallas Cowboys.
I'm in shock.
I'm in horror.
I'm...speechless.
For those not familiar with the origin of these reactions, let me regale you with this team-wrecker's highlights:
- In San Francisco, he pushed out Jerry Rice, the greatest receiver of all time. He accused his quarterback, a Pro Bowler, of being gay, and blew up at his coaches on the sidelines.
- His incompetence had him choose an agent who missed a key filing deadline for free agency. So, instead of being able to reap millions by becoming a free agent, he was summarily dumped by the 49ers to the Ravens.
- He successfully fought the trade (how, I will NEVER understand), and got his free agency, where he went to Philadelphia, his team of choice.
- He had one successful season in Philly, plagued by injury, and then proceeded to rip his team, his quarterback, his coach, and his fans. He was summarily demoted and dismissed by the team; he responded with bizarre press conferences and legal actions. HE LOST.
"This guy is the poster child for bad atheletes. And now, he comes to my Cowboys. Oh, the play he is most well known for? Ah, yes: after scoring a touchdown while with the 49ers, playing in Dallas, he sprinted to the center logo, mocking the fans (see image to the left). On a 2nd touchdown, he did it again, but this time, former Cowboy George Teague, who will be forever a Cowboy in my mind, decided to show the arrogant prick that football is a game of pain (see image below, right).
Now, I know the columnists are saying this is a great match: Bledsoe loves him; Parcells knows how to handle "problem" players, like Lawrence Taylor, Keyshawn Johnson, and Terry Glenn; Jerry Jones takes chances on "outlaw" players (Michael Irvin, Erik Williams). But I'll say it right here: if this asshole gets them to the Superbowl, he is still a piece of shit, and this title will have an asterisk by it. Jerry needs to sell tickets, with a new stadium coming and a coach going, and there's nothing like a freak show to bring in the gawkers: good for you, Jerry; I applaud the business savvy.
But somewhere, Troy Aikman, Roger Staubach, Emmitt Smith, Herschel Walker, and Tony Dorsett are looking at their SuperBowl rings and noticing they are not shining quite as brightly as they had been.
Go Cowboys.*
Then came Bledsoe, the quarterback I always thought was just the guy you wanted when you didn't want to win a big game. He surprised me, after years in New England where I watched him do very little, it was his performance in the AFC Championship Gane, in the Patriots' first Superbowl title run. He had been benched earlier in the season, injured, and on came Tom Brady. The rest, of course, is history, but for that AFC Game, Brady went down, and Bledsoe came in. He drove them to the SuperBowl: it was the first time he had ever impressed me. When he came to Dallas, I groaned: back to the same old Bledsoe. Ready to throw the key interception when you need him to.
But none of that matters. Not after last week. The most disturbing image I have ever seen in professional sports, outside of Joe Theismann's leg being broken, or having to look at any professional figure skater met my eyes:
Terrell Owens, AKA the biggest asshole in professional sports, signed with the Dallas Cowboys.
I'm in shock.
I'm in horror.
I'm...speechless.
For those not familiar with the origin of these reactions, let me regale you with this team-wrecker's highlights:
- In San Francisco, he pushed out Jerry Rice, the greatest receiver of all time. He accused his quarterback, a Pro Bowler, of being gay, and blew up at his coaches on the sidelines.
- His incompetence had him choose an agent who missed a key filing deadline for free agency. So, instead of being able to reap millions by becoming a free agent, he was summarily dumped by the 49ers to the Ravens.
- He successfully fought the trade (how, I will NEVER understand), and got his free agency, where he went to Philadelphia, his team of choice.
- He had one successful season in Philly, plagued by injury, and then proceeded to rip his team, his quarterback, his coach, and his fans. He was summarily demoted and dismissed by the team; he responded with bizarre press conferences and legal actions. HE LOST.
"This guy is the poster child for bad atheletes. And now, he comes to my Cowboys. Oh, the play he is most well known for? Ah, yes: after scoring a touchdown while with the 49ers, playing in Dallas, he sprinted to the center logo, mocking the fans (see image to the left). On a 2nd touchdown, he did it again, but this time, former Cowboy George Teague, who will be forever a Cowboy in my mind, decided to show the arrogant prick that football is a game of pain (see image below, right).
Now, I know the columnists are saying this is a great match: Bledsoe loves him; Parcells knows how to handle "problem" players, like Lawrence Taylor, Keyshawn Johnson, and Terry Glenn; Jerry Jones takes chances on "outlaw" players (Michael Irvin, Erik Williams). But I'll say it right here: if this asshole gets them to the Superbowl, he is still a piece of shit, and this title will have an asterisk by it. Jerry needs to sell tickets, with a new stadium coming and a coach going, and there's nothing like a freak show to bring in the gawkers: good for you, Jerry; I applaud the business savvy.
But somewhere, Troy Aikman, Roger Staubach, Emmitt Smith, Herschel Walker, and Tony Dorsett are looking at their SuperBowl rings and noticing they are not shining quite as brightly as they had been.
Go Cowboys.*
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