Back in 2005, the NCAA declared that Native American mascots were “hostile and abusive” and outlawed them. Eight years later, the fact they are still around may be the perfect example of why the NCAA is the standard by which one measures ineffective and hypocritical organizations. The fact the debate spread beyond that is even more of a damning statement.
In today’s installment of the Dubscast, J-Dub takes a critical look at how the NCAA really isn’t interested in “hostile and abusive” because it clearly makes decision based on other criteria it won’t tell anybody. It is important to understand this IS NOT a discussion as to whether these mascots are “offensive,” you will need to get past that debate in order to see the bigger picture in play in this issue.
In other words, after checking out this episode of the Dubscast, you will need to decide for yourself why the NCAA either cannot or will not enforce its own rules.
America is a country capable of incredible acts of class, and is also capable of the exact opposite.
The Highlight: It was pure class the way the St. Louis Blues paid tribute to baseball icon and St. Louis legend Stan “The Man” Musial.
The Lowlight: The asswipes at PETA using the Manti Te’o situation to advance their idiotic agenda.
Here’s the saddest part. I will be the first to admit I’ve made my fair share of Manti Te’o jokes, but there’s two problems here. First, the longer this story plays out, it is morphing from odd through funny into pathetic, and it isn’t over yet. The second problem is PETA isn’t joking; they really think this is going to help their cause.
I’m going to keep this short and sweet. By now, we all know the story of the Notre Dame linebacker and his fictional girlfriend. the problem is the more we discover, the less we know. As this continues to unfold, as of this writing there are some big questions for which I have yet to hear the answers.
1) Why was there a need for a fictional girlfriend?
Only guys in bad college rock bands get more girls than the star of the football team. Te’o could have been knee-deep in real Irish coeds if he wanted to be, so why was their a need for him to buy into one that existed only in cyber-space?
2) At which point did Te’o become complicit in this hoax?
Make no mistake, he may very well have started out as a victim, but there clearly was a point when Te’o bought into the hoax to the level of helping to perpetrate it. He let his own father believe the girlfriend existed, he told several people he had actually met her, and he mentioned her at the Heisman ceremony two days after it was shown he knew this was all a fraud. In other words, no matter which version of the story you want to buy, there was a point at which Te’o was in on the scam.
Of course they were…for 12 out of 13 weeks. There was a brief moment in the 2012 college football season where the Golden Domers wore the legitimate shine of being ranked #1. To be fair, there being over-rated at all other times this season was a function of the fact that they played a schedule full of overrated teams, and that the Irish and the media ignored several warning signs about the true nature of their team.
If you do a week-by-week breakdown, this becomes a “moon rocket filled with nuclear waste fired into a supernova” glowing ball of obvious.
In the wake of last night’s crushing at the hands of Alabama, this blog can easily be seen as “piling on.” Those who might say that would be 100% correct.
Guess what, Notre Dame? Today, America is savoring your dismantling because the vast majority of America hates you. Eyeball-popping, color-changing, bile-spewing hatred, and you bring it on yourself.
Being that we are at the end of what has proven to be a tumultuous twelve months, why not take a look back at the biggest sports stories of such a year? After all, I’m pretty sure nobody else does these sort of retrospectives…
15) The Los Angeles Kings Win The Stanley Cup
For purposes of full disclosure, I have a bias on this one; I’ve been a Kings’ fan since I had to hold a puck with two hands. But there’s a couple of reasons why this win by the sole surviving original California hockey team (raise your hand if you remember the California Golden Seals) is a big story.
- The Kings are the first native Los Angeles team (not relocated from another city) to win a championship (Anaheim is NOT Los Angeles).
- The Kings became the first NHL team to enter the playoffs as the 8th seed and eliminate the 1st and 2nd seeded teams in their conference.
- The Kings became the first team to win the Stanley Cup entering the playoffs as a #8 seed.
- The Los Angeles Kings ended one of the longest championship droughts (45 years) when they hoisted the franchise’s first Stanley Cup.
The moral of the story: Don’t look now, but the Golden State is slowly becoming hockey territory. In the last twenty years, California has won more Stanley Cups than Canada has.
14) Johnny Football Becomes Johnny Heisman
The rise of Texas A&M quarterback Johnny Manziel had all the media hype of other stories you will see on this list, but it had one crucial difference. Johnny Football became the first freshman to win the Heisman Trophy, thus breaking one of the last barriers in the history of the 50-pound trophy awarded by the Downtown Athletic Club. Manziel literally came from nowhere to the pinnacle of college football in a vote that was never really close.
The moral of the story: Until further notice, the Heisman is an award for quarterbacks and running backs only. If I had a vote, by sticking with the strict definition of the “best player in college football,” my ballot would have been as follows:
- Barrett Jones, C, Alabama
- Johnny Manziel, QB, Texas A&M
- Jarvis Jones, LB, Georgia
13) The Indianapolis Colts Cut Peyton Manning
The Peyton Manning era in Indianapolis came to a rather inglorious, if not completely anti-climactic end on March 7, when team owner Jim Irsay announced at a press conference that the team would release the man who had become the face of the Colts’ franchise. A 2-14 season during which Manning never saw the field due to a neck injury illustrated the need for a consideration for the future in Indianapolis. Couple that with the economic reality; cutting Manning meant the Colts would save a $28 million roster bonus due on March 8, plus be free-and-clear of the remainder of his contract. Add it all up, and it means this move surprised nobody, because it allowed the Colts to have money for the next franchise quarterback, #1 overall draft pick Andrew Luck.
The moral of the story: Even 4-time MVPs are no longer immune to the economic realities of sports.
12) Augusta National Adds Its First Female Members
To be honest, I’m an old-school guy who believes that private clubs should be able to pick and choose who they want as members. That’s why when I first found out that Augusta had caved to a bunch of ball-busting feminists with chin-whiskers and married to sociology professors, my neanderthal heart sank a bit. But when I found out that the women Augusta picked would completely piss-off the “drives a Subaru with a rainbow bumper sticker” crowd, I had renewed faith in all that is right. Who better to do that that the hated George Bush’s Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice and Darla Moore, a woman who had the audacity to make a bazillion dollars in the world of corporate finance?
The moral of the story: Social activists, you too need to be careful of what you wish for.
11) The Resurgence of Notre Dame Football
Notre Dame last saw the top of the college football mountain in 1988. In the quarter-century since, the Irish have remained a media darling while simultaneously spending more time as a doormat than a contender. Since that last title, Notre Dame has appeared in exactly five BCS bowls, and has lost every single one of them by at least 14 points. They are 6-11 in bowl games overall in that time. There was a fifteen-year span between 1993 and 2008 where the Irish lacked a single post-season win.
But now they’ve managed to finish the regular season undefeated and ranked number #1, thanks largely to a key goal-line stand in overtime against Stanford, Pittsburgh’s inability to make a clutch kick, and a complete meltdown by Oklahoma. After all that, the Irish are set to face defending BCS champ Alabama for the title.
The moral of the story: Despite all the media attention the Irish are gathering, you would be hard-pressed to hear Notre Dame is a ten-point underdog.
10) The Beginning of the End of the National Hockey League
If you needed a perfect model for how not to run a professional sports league, you need look no further than the NHL. The latest example of their stupidity came with the latest failure to come to a collective bargaining agreement after two months of talks between team owners and the NHL Player’s Association broke down and the league entered its fourth work stoppage since 1992. I’ve never been the commissioner of anything bigger than a fantasy sports league, but even I know that in order to keep people interested in your sport, you need actually to play some games. As of now, that hasn’t happened, and with every passing day, it looks more likely that hockey fans will be deprived of an entire season for the third time since 1994.
It’s time to understand that even die-hard hockey fans like myself are ready to wash their hands of this shit. Idiotus Supremus Gary Bettman and the owners don’t get that they are killing a league over their insistence in making the players’ union pay for their complete lack of business sense. Fellow Sports Blog Movement member Ryan Meehan and I hit on this a while ago, but the keys remain in place. The owners locked the doors because the players wouldn’t accept a new collective bargaining agreement that requires players to accept salary cuts and limits on free agency, despite the fact the owners were more than happy to give those provisions without any threat. The union wants a better revenue sharing plan that help the league’s struggling franchises. Face it, the NHL needs to survive in the Winnipegs and the Buffalos of the world, because in North America, hockey is a regional sport with a limited appeal outside of that region.
The moral of the story: If Meehan, the players, and I can figure that out, what does it say for the future of this league that the owners can’t?
For 25 days last winter, an Asian Harvard graduate was the biggest story in all of sports. Think about that for a minute…Jeremy Lin had been sleeping on his brother’s couch, had been cut by two NBA teams, and was put into a game on February 4th by Mike D’Antoni, whose New York Knicks were so injury-depleted Lin was the only alternative left on the bench besides the towel guy. Lin went on to score 25 points and seven assists leading a comeback over the then-New Jersey Nets. Lin then lead the Knicks to seven straight wins, including one in which he hung 38 on Kobe Bryant and the Los Angeles Lakers. What began with a bang (perhaps literally, judging by the photo above) ended with a knee-injury and a quiet relocation to the Houston Rockets.
The moral of the story: All glory is fleeting.
8 ) Michael Phelps Becomes History’s Most Decorated Olympian
As far as I’m concerned, any guy who won 19 gold medals can do all the bong hits he wants. While most stoners can’t get past micro-waving a burrito and watching Scooby-Doo at the same time, this guy joined a frightfully short list of elite athletes while giggling stupidly at his own own reflection in a sheet of aluminum foil.
Phelps made the cover a Wheaties box in 2008 after he won eight Olympic gold medals in Beijing. but then came history’s most publicized bong toke. Phelps received a three-month suspension from USA Swimming and Kellogg’s said they would not renew their endorsement of the Olympian. which goes to show what dumb-asses they both are. USA Swimming finally re-instated Phelps and he went on to win nine more medals in London this past summer, his 19 medals surpassing the 18 won by Soviet gymnast Larisa Latynina.
The moral of the story: Somebody ought to start a cereal called Weed-ies.
7) The NFL’s Replacement Referee Debacle
We all know what a debacle the NFL’s use of replacement referees was. The biggest indicator of what dipshits sports commissioners in this country are is that they make me sympathetic to scumbag unions.
The moral of the story: This is just one reason people will look back at 2012 as the beginning of the downfall of the Kommissar Goodell regime.
6) Lance Armstrong Stripped of Cycling Titles
While it isn’t an excuse, there is a shitload of truth in that quote in the above graphic. There’s a huge double-standard about cheating in this country; it is OK when your guy does it. And nobody was more of “America’s Guy” then Lance Armstrong was when was routinely humiliating the French in the Tour de France. That’s really the only reason anybody in America gave a damn about cycling; it was an exercise in hating the perfectly hateable French.
Back in August, U.S. Anti-Doping Agency announced that it was stripping Lance Armstrong of his record-seven Tour de France titles and barred him for life from the sport after concluding he used banned substances. On October 22, the International Cycling Union (UCI), cycling’s governing body, said that it had officially stripped Armstrong of his seven titles and banned him from cycling for life.
But then comes the part where the hypocrisy comes in again.
“He deserves to be forgotten,” UCI President Pat McQuaid said of Armstrong.
Give me a fucking break. Cycling is the dirtiest of the “dirty” sports when it comes to performance enhancing drugs; what’s going on in baseball might as well be the drug problem in pee-wee T-ball compared to cycling. All the UCI and USADA did was to catch the best cheater in sport filled with cheaters whose lifeblood literally is cheating.
The moral of the story: There’s nothing wrong with anything that sticks it to the French.
5) Speaking of Hypocrisy, Let’s Talk About The NCAA
Question: Do you know what the Jerry Sandusky and Sandy Hook Elementary School situations have in common, besides the fact they both involve monsters whose own self-absorbed impulses were brought to bear on many innocent people? They are both examples of how we in America love to pontificate about horrible things, yet do nothing about them.
In the wake of both of these terrible stories, you didn’t hear one credible person come out and say stupid shit like “I’m glad this happened. We need more events like this to learn our lessons.” Anybody who would have said anything like this would have been stamped USDA Prime Whacko and their words would have been filed in the appropriate plastic-bag lined receptacle. But no matter how many times you let a train run over a coin, it still has two sides, and there were far too many people ready to get on the other side of the bombastic coin from the stamped Whackos.
These were the people who took such a brave stand by table-pounding the obvious “we need to protect our children” reaction. There are lessons to be learned, and there are things as a society we need to do; the trouble is that we as society have completely missed the point.
The NCAA serves as the perfect microcosm of American society, and the ridiculous, pointless, and self-serving crap the NCAA does is a perfect reflection of the society in which it exists. It’s numb-handed response to the Sandusky scandal at Penn State proves that.
After former FBI Director Louis Freeh released his report , the NCAA got into the fashionable “shitting on Penn State” and did it in a completely meaningless way. While Penn State may have received some of the harshest penalties in NCAA history, they were ultimately without real teeth. If you doubt that, let’s break them down:
- A 4-year bowl ban: Normally that would hurt, but at the end of the 2011 season, this team could only qualify for a low-rent bowl where they got smoked by a Houston team whose coach was on his way to making Texas A&M the Belle of the SEC Newbies ball. Nobody saw the miracle incoming head coach Bill O’Brien pulled off; he literally made a team intended to be kicked off the B1G island and made it the second-best team in the conference.
- Loss of 20 scholarships: This does kill bench depth, but lets be honest…you can still win with only three punters on the depth chart. 65 scholarships is still plenty to field a winning team; NFL teams only have 53 roster spots. The only part that could sting is that Penn State can only sign 15 recruits per year rather than the usual 25.
- $60 Million Fine: Penn State has an endowment of nearly $2 billion and has an athletic department that generates cash in gorgon-like quantities. $60 million to them is the change you keep in your car’s cup holder for toll booths.
- Loss of shared conference bowl revenue for four years: This is estimated to be around $13 million per year. See above.
- Five years probation: That might as well be Dean Wormer’s “double secret probation” from “Animal House” since the NCAA really has no interest in handing out real punishments.
- Players were allowed to transfer without penalty: The team still won eight games.
- Vacating of all wins from 1998-2011: Record book hocus-pocus. This was only done to screw Joe Paterno, who was already dead by the time this move was made. Utterly pointless.
In other words, the NCAA didn’t do anything substantive after the Sandusky situation just like we won’t solve the problem after Sandy Hook.
The moral of the story: I can’t wait for NCAA President Mark Emmert to weigh in on gun control.
4) The Ongoing Tim Tebow Saga
Where do I start start with this? Here’s a guy who sold more jerseys than anybody before he even took a single NFL snap. Here’s a guy who stays in the headlines despite the fact he’s only taken 50 snaps this season as a New York Jet. Here’s a guy who everybody keeps saying isn’t an NFL quarterback, and yet right now we are talking about where is the next place he “isn’t” going to be an NFL quarterback.
The moral of the story: I’ll buy lunch for the first person who can explain Tebow-mania to me in 50 words or less.
3) The “Bounty-Gate” Debacle
Too bad NFL Commissioner Kommissar Goodell doesn’t have a paper towel good enough to clean up the mess he made.
Think about it for a moment. How many times have you seen a guy over-estimate his power, do something completely stupid because of that over-estimation, then need somebody to come in and clean up the mess. I guess former commissioner Paul Tagliabue is the one who had the big roll of paper towels.
To make a long story short, “Bountygate” blew up in Goodell’s face when he mistakenly assumed the players he suspended would simply roll over and take his brand of “justice.” But when Jonathan Vilma, Anthony Hargrove, Will Smith and Scott Fujita were reinstated by a three-members appeals panel. which included former NFL head Paul Tagliabue. The panel overturned a ruling that NFL commissioner Roger Goodell was within his powers to suspend the players for their alleged roles in a pay-to-injure agreement.
What it all boils down to is that in the end, Goodell managed to emasculate himself, and required Tagliabue to get him out of the mess he made for himself. In other words, the commissioner did not have the final say; the former commissioner did. I don’t know of too many executive-level managers who stay employed after they need to be bailed out, especially when Tagliabue was only intended to review Goodell’s decision to impose suspensions on four New Orleans Saints players and instead found the action so flawed he had to vacate those suspensions.
The moral of the story: This is another reason people will look back at 2012 as the beginning of the downfall of the Kommissar Goodell regime.
2) Miguel Cabrera Becomes Baseball’s First Triple Crown Winner in 45 Years
Miguel Cabrera became the first player to win baseball’s Triple Crown since Boston’s Carl Yastrzemski in 1967, and just the 15th player ever. This puts Cabrera on a list with baseball royalty which includes Mickey Mantle, Ted Williams, and Lou Gehrig. Cabrera led the American League with a .330 batting average, 44 home runs and 139 RBIs.
The moral of the story: Dude can hit.
1) The Los Angeles Dodgers Are The First Sports Franchise to Sell For $2 Billion
The Los Angeles Dodgers were sold to a group that includes NBA Hall of Famer Magic Johnson for a final sale price of just over $2 billion. That represents the highest price any sports team has ever sold for — by a wide margin.
Television money for live sports is skyrocketing, and it’s driving up the values of sports teams not just in the United States, but around the world as well. People keep trying to tell me baseball is dead, and a baseball team just sold for a staggering amount of money. If one were to pay that $2 billion in cash, you would need sixteen standard shipping pallets stacked four feet square with $100 dollar bills. And the prices are only going up.
Want to buy a European soccer team? Soccer is the world’s most popular sport, so you’d better bring your wallet. Manchester United was the first team to break the the billion-dollar barrier, and that was a decade ago. Now, buying a top team in the English Premier League will easily cost you somewhere in the neighborhood of $2.5 billion. If you still want a big-time European soccer club, but want to save your pennies, you might be able to get Real Madrid for just under $2 billion. Even the Jacksonville Jaguars, arguably the least-valuable franchise in the NFL, just sold recently for $770 million.
The moral of the story: Television money is exploding sports as we know it.
Since I live in Indiana, I’ve heard an amplified level of bitching about Note Dame linebacker Manti T’eo getting “screwed” out of the Heisman Trophy Saturday night. To keep this simple, it is time for Notre Dame fans to realize that Te’o was never going to win…never.
Yeah, I get that even after a quarter-century of irrelevance, you Notre Dame fans still think that college football supremacy is your birthright, but if you really want to re-assert that claim, you may want to focus on beating Alabama rather that whining about what is essentially a quasi-meaningless popularity contest.
Face facts, you Golden Dopers. If Notre Dame beats Alabama, nobody will remember this so-called Heisman slight. But if you lose that game, don’t spend the next 20 years crying about how T’eo got screwed, because he didn’t.
If you doubt that, consider the following:
1) The Vote Wasn’t Really That Close
Even though the common line about the outcome of this vote was “Manziel Narrowly Beats T’eo,” that’s really not true when you remember how the voting is set up. There were 892 ballots cast for the award; the vote being conducted by a voter placing three candidates in order on their ballot. Each first place vote is worth three points, second place is worth two points, and third is worth one.
Manziel recieved 474 first-place votes as compared to 321 for T’eo. When you factor in the other 97 ballots that had somebody other than Manziel or Te’o, it becomes clear this was a two-horse race. With 892 ballots, a unanimous first-place winner would have received 2,676 points. This means Manziel only got 1,422 points from first-place ballots, where T’eo got 963. Manziel got a total of 2,029 points to T’eo’ s 1,706. That means Manziel not only scored more first-place ballots, but that T’eo was scored second or third on more ballots than Manziel scored first. Remember, you are voting for a guy to lose if you don’t put him first on the ballot. In other words, more voters thought T’eo was not the winner than thought Manziel was the winner That’s a pretty clear cut loss for T’eo.
2) It Wasn’t About “Defensive Players Can’t Win,” Te’o Wasn’t Even The Best Defensive Player
T’eo’s big claim to fame statistically is his collecting 7 interceptions. But out of the guys with 7 or more interceptions, he has by far the fewest return yards and is the only one not to come up with a “pick 6.” So, the fact that he is a “big play maker” is a bit of a myth.
In terms of sacks, Te’o doesn’t even show up on the board. In fact, the only thing that T’eo gets credited for is making a lot of tackles, which are not an official statistic. T’eo shares this trait with Georgia linebacker Jarvis Jones, who doesn’t have T’eo pick-offs, but did record 22 tackles for loss. Jones also received so first-place Heisman ballots. From “eye-ball” test, Jones was the better linebacker, and another first-place vote recipient, South Carolina’s Jadavean Clowney was a far more dominant factor on the field from his defensive line position.
So why did Te’o get so many votes? Largely because he is the best player on a defense which brought the Fighting Irish back to national prominence after two-plus decades in the college football shitter. Don’t underestimate how powerful that is.
If Notre Dame had lost a game along the way, would Te’o have even been in this discussion?
3) Face It, Football Is Now A Quarterback’s Game
Charless Woodson is the only one of 74 Heisman winners who wasn’t exclusively an offensive player, and even then he won due to his efforts as a kick-returner and part-time wide-receiver. Since Woodson won that award in 1997, only four of the last 15 winners weren’t quarterbacks, and 6 of the last 7 were signal-callers.
This isn’t just a college phenomenon. Since the NFL began awarding MVP awards in 1957, it’be been won by a defensive player only twice; Alan Page in 1971 and Lawrence Taylor in 1986. Out of the 54 years in the history of this award, 35 winners have been quarterbacks, including only 6 non-quarterbacks in the last twenty years.
So, Notre Dame fans, after considering all that, please explain to me why you thought Te’o has a chance to win the Heisman. After all, it was only you and only a third of the Heisman voters who thought so.
Do you remember the the old saying about one picture being worth a thousand words? Well, this picture destroys at least three assumptions.
1) All Cheerleaders Are Hot
Apparently at Notre Dame, chicks who look like a “short bus” version of Jan Brady get to wave the pom-poms, even if they don’t provide any of their own.
2) Notre Dame Has High Acceptance Standards
Well, they do, but the standards aren’t necessarily based on academics. It’s been no secret in South Bend that money can replace the grade point average. This girl’s parents must be loaded.
3) Cheerleaders Enhance the College Football Experience
At least the NFL gets cheerleaders who look like they could be pole-dancers. The irony here is that outside of the Notre Dame campus, South Bend is little more than seedy strip-clubs and those adult superstores that have billboards along the interstate and cater to lonely truckers.
First, there was yesterday’s news the University of Notre Dame was joining Atlantic Coast Conference for all sports except football (although there will play 5 ACC team in football per season). But that isn’t the really shocking news; we all knew someday Notre Dame would “buddy up” to a conference. What surprised us all was the news that Notre Dame will now in fact be running the entirety of the Catholic Church.
In a historic press conference held today in South Bend, Indiana, Pope Benedict XVI and Notre Dame president Rev. John Jenkins announced the dramatic changes in the church. While the news was surprising, the reasons given really were not. In short, this is all about synergizing the world’s 800 million Catholics with the Notre Dame football program.
“It’s often been said the two most important jobs in the Catholic Church are Pope and quarterback at Notre Dame,” Benedict the XVI joked. “And not necessarily in that order!”
The details of the plan are much more serious. A church that has not seen major structural changes in several centuries is about to undergo a massive transformation in order to turn the followers of catholicism into the world’s largest college football fanbase.
“We’ve been trying to compete with the leviathans of college football unsuccessfully for far too long,” Jenkins said. “Then we realized with the correct strategy, we could dwarf the fanbases of the likes of Michigan, Penn State, and Texas. You can find a Catholic in sub-Saharan Africa much easier than you can find an Alabama fan. They can’t even say ‘Roll Tide’ in that clicking language they’ve got, but they can certainly strike a ‘Touchdown Jesus’ pose. “
One of the changes involved as part this new approach is the creation of the position of a Chief Executive Officer. Despite this move, Pope Benedict XVI still retains the position as the Supreme Pontiff, but hands over many of the day-to-day operations to the new CEO.
“I become more like a Chairman of the Board,” said the Pope. “The business operations of the church needed more football-focused attention. Plus, this way I don’t have to exercise the Doctrine of Papal Infallibility as much, which isn’t as good of a recruiting tool as you might think. This is just a smart business decision that will allow us to better synergize our efforts toward rebuilding Notre Dame football.”
According to Benedict XVI, there were several candidates for the new CEO position, but at the end of the day, there was one clear choice.
The Catholic Church appointed Irving R. Goldbaum, 56, a seasoned Wall Street executive to fill a position whose primary responsibility will be to build an infrastructure upon which a top-flight football program can be built. Goldbaum was previously the CEO of Goldbaum & Stein, a large New York consulting firm specializing in financial and legal considerations for large multi-national corporations.
“Mr. Goldbaum’s experience in international law, finance, and organizational leadership are a perfect fit for the directions that we need the Church to go to become the driving force behind making Notre Dame football a global brand,” said Benedict XVI. “He saw right away that as an organization, we have been focusing our efforts in some areas that tend to lead us away from our real strengths.”
According to the Pope, Goldbaum’s agenda will be to “reposition the Church to be aggressively market-driven focused, to grow the Notre Dame football brand through performance both on and off the field.”
Along this line, one of Goldbaum’s first major changes in Church philosophy was to permanently rescind the traditional “blessed” status of the world’s meek. This marks a historic reversal of its nearly 2,000-year-old pro-Meek stance.
“Your Lord and Savior Jesus Christ once said, ‘Blessed are the Meek,'” said Goldbaum in a conference call with the College of Cardinals. “However, there has always been a tacit understanding between the Church and the Meek that this ‘blessed’ status was conditional upon their inheritance of the earth, an event which seems unlikely to happen anytime in the foreseeable future. Our new strategy depends on that inheritance to grow our fanbase, and if that inheritance is not going to happen, we as an organization must move in a new direction.”
Citing “Two millennia of inaction and non-achievement” by the world’s impoverished and downtrodden, Goldbaum contended that the Meek’s historic unwillingness and/or inability to improve their worldly status constituted “bad faith that violates the spirit of the agreement on their part.”
“Twenty centuries should have been more than enough time for them to inherit the earth,” the Pope said in a statement supporting Goldbaum’s move. “For years, the Catholic Church has made every effort to help them, but at some point, enough is enough. We are patient, but, Jesus Christ, when do you draw the line?”
Catholic leaders around the world were vocal in their support of the decision.
“The Meek have abused their blessed status for far too long now,” said Bernard Law, Archbishop of Boston. “From the Renaissance to the Industrial Revolution to the current Global Information Age, the Meek have always somehow managed to sit on their asses and do nothing while others worked hard to make advances and improve their lives. They were who we counted on to grow our ranks, and they haven’t delivered. They don’t even turn out for Boston College in one of the most Catholic cities in America. They have collected the Catholic Church’s spiritual welfare checks for long enough.”
“Everything about the Meek, from their simple garments, to their quiet demeanors, to their utter lack of can-do spirit, goes against Church philosophy,” Cardinal Michael Flannery of Chicago said. “Sitting back and expecting the Lord to provide you with Marlboros and cheap liquor while not even giving the Fighting Irish a TV view on Saturdays is not the type of behavior for which the Church should be rewarding its followers.”
The change in policy toward the Meek is also rooted in financial considerations. Quoting Vatican statistics, Goldbaum stated because more than 80 percent of the world’s Catholics live below the poverty line, the Catholic Church receives less than 2 percent of its annual earnings of $395 billion from such people.
“It is plain to see that being so heavily involved with the Meek offers almost a limited return on investment,” Goldbaum stated. “By opening up our relationship opportunities here, we open up avenues for attracting far more socio-economiclly diverse set of market segments and ultimately, major growth potential.”
“The Meek’s blessed status was originally bestowed upon them by Jesus Christ Himself, but there is enough latitude in His gospels and teachings to allow us discretion in this manner, especially in light of the new football and financial goals of the Church as it seeks to establish itself going forward,” Goldbaum said, offering the theological justification for the move. “From this day forward, the Church position shall be, Blessed are the Affluent for they have indeed inherited the Earth, and therefore will make better boosters.'”
In an effort to move away from its traditional Meek core demographic and attract more upscale worshipers/boosters, Vatican officials announced a number of changes for the Gospels. Among the changes:
- Christ is now said to have been born in a rustic-but-spacious birthing suite, not a manger.
- The amount of gold bestowed upon Him by the Wise Men has been quadrupled, the frankincense replaced by a deluxe Calvin Klein Obsession® toiletry kit with Gucci carrying case, and the amount of myrrh halved, since nobody really knows what myrrh is, and it is nowhere near as good of a hedge against inflation as precious metals.
- Judas shall no longer be viewed as a traitor, but instead shall be viewed as a booster who talked too much to the NCAA.
- It shall henceforth be as easy for a rich man to enter the Kingdom of Heaven as it is for him to pass through teh Staduim Club-Level Gate and enter his climate-controlled luxury box.
- The episode between Christ and the Moneylenders in the temple shall, from now on, be interpreted as an internecine argument over appropriately aggressive fund-raising tactics.
Changes have also been made to the Sacraments, according to Goldbaum. Among the changes:
- Baptism is now done with imported, bottled water (or on Saturday, domestic-tap stadium beer)
- Extreme Unction is now available for purchase instead of actually having to deal with any sick people, or worse yet, Michigan fans
- A new bonus Sacrament has been added, Indulgent Consumption. This is achieved upon purchase of your first new luxury sedan, and can be used as a substitute for any other Sacrament, or cashed in for season-ticket upgrades
In addition, Goldbaum went on to outline the new Notre Dame BlessedPerks® rewards plan, under which blessedness and God’s everlasting love are free of charge to members once a baptism/membership/seat license fee has been paid. Once this fee is paid, members begin accruing FrequentPrayer® points. These points can be accrued, for example, by attending mass, making donations to the Church, buying Notre Dame tickets and paraphernalia, and by using the new ChristBuxx® credit card at selected retailers.
After completion/purchase of the Sacraments, for an additional fee, Catholics can become Gold Helmet® members of the Church, entitling them to such upgrades as forgiveness, sainthood, Stadium Club Membership and reserved priority seating at the right hand of Lou Holtz upon death, depending on the number of FrequentPrayer® points they wish to redeem. In explaining the root of these changes, Goldbaum went on to add that this was strictly a business and football-related decision.
“We do not wish the Church to become completely exclusionary,” Goldbaum said. “If any of the former Meek wish to change their ways, they may certainly do so. But it won’t be the free ride they got before, I can promise you that.”
“The Lord will provide, of course,” Benedict XVI said. “But He also helps those who help themselves, if you know what I mean.”
If I started typing now and typed until I wore off my own fingerprints, typed until my hand muscles cramped up and ripped themselves off my hand bones like a future gastric-bypass patient vacuum-cleaning a family-bucket at KFC, and typed until the radiation from my monitor burned smoking craters through my skull, I still would not have typed long enough to list all the reasons why I hate the Dallas Cowboys.
Let’s see if I can give you an abridged version…
1) Cowboy Fans Themselves
This is the part where I have to define who I mean by Cowboy fans. If you call yourself a Cowboy fan, you are exempt from this rant if:
- You see the pattern in the upcoming Tony Romo examples, and realize the real problem in Dallas.
- You have a real tie to Texas – If your only connection to the Lone Star State is that your uncle’s ex-wife’s father was in the Air Force and was stationed in Texas for two years, you have no such connection.
- You can name at least five players from a Tom Landry-coached Super Bowl winning team.
If you do not meet any of those three bullet points, you are exactly who I mean when I say “Cowboys fans.” These Cowboys fans aren’t the worst fans in sports; they are the worst human beings on earth. Child molesters, Neo-Nazis, Vegans…forget them, these Cowboy fans are far worse. Every group has at least one.; just look around you…you will see him. More often than not, he’s a guy with a goatee who loves NASCAR, drinks cheap-shit beer like Busch by the case, has at least two “Baby-mommas,” which is one reason why he lives life constantly under the threat of going to jail for not paying child support; the other being the fact that he pulls in a cool $6,000 a year. Tattoos are optional, but the filthy baseball cap with that God-awful blue star on it (which matches the filth under his fingernails) is mandatory.
It goes without saying the average Cowboy fan I’m talking about is some blue-collar dipshit, but they are dipshits even by advanced, scientifically-calibrated dipshit standards. Granted, I get there are exceptions to this rule; hence the aforementioned criteria for exemption. I’m sure we have some non-dipshit Cowboy fans in a zoo somewhere that we try to mate like pandas in a futile attempt to make a Cowboy fanbase that doesn’t need wholesale extermination.
Tony Romo Example #1: The Airport Conversation
In the following example, determine the proper type (Legitimate Cowboy Fan or Dipshit Cowboy Fan) for each Cowboy fan.
- Cowboy Fan #1: (Spots another guy at the airport wearing a Tony Romo jersey) Are you a Cowboys fan? (High-fives) I was born and raised in Grand Prairie! Have you been to the new stadium? It’s awesome!
- Cowboy Fan #2: No, I ain’t never been to Texas. I’m a long-time, die-hard fan though. This is my third Romo jersey! Now I have two blue ones!
- Cowboy Fan #1: Wow, you are pretty dedicated. I sure wish we could get back to a Super Bowl.
- Cowboy Fan #2: That will never happen ’cause Tony Romo sucks dog balls.
If you call yourself a Cowboy fan and can’t see the difference, have whoever is reading this to you stop right now. This is all completely lost on you. For the rest of you, let’s dig deeper into the defining characteristics of the dipshit Cowboys fan.
Delusions of Football Grandeur:
To be a dipshit Cowboy fan is to be completely oblivious to the fact the Cowboys haven’t won a goddamn thing since the Clinton administration, and not late in said administration either. We are talking years before the only reason why anybody even remembers Clinton; Monica Gulp-insky. It matters little if we are talking about the average blue-collar dipshit, or that suburban white-bread asshole who puts pictures on Facebook of his whole moronic family decked out in all their matching Tony Romo jerseys; we are still dealing with a group of people bound by a false belief their team is better than it is.
Socio-econonomic status aside, they are all fans of “America’s Team,” and goddamnit, fans of “America’s Team” just won’t settle for a decade and a half of being 7-9. So, in the words of Adam Smith from Mythbusters, Cowboy fans are left with little choice but to reject reality and substitute it with one of their own; a silver and blue fantasy world where Tony Romo isn’t a fully-automated, hydraulically-powered fuck-up machine and Jerry Jones isn’t just a drunken, inbred version of Al Davis.
Ask any Cowboy fans about the previous season, and invariably you will get some bilge about how they were “just one play away from the Super Bowl.” Naturally, having fans this delusional leads to a litany of head coaches who do dumb shit like run the shotgun formation on 3rd-and-goal from the opponent’s two-yard line or ice their own field goal kicker. That complete lack of football self-awareness is the driving force behind the next two characteristics.
According to the average Cowboy fan, Dallas didn’t win each of the last seventeen Super Bowls because they were not worthy; they lost because in each of the last seventeen years, they had one fumble-fingered dickweed who blew it for everybody. C’mon Cowboy fans, let’s all see how many of your scapegoats we can list… Hmmmm, let’s see, there’s always Tony Romo, but Cowboy fans always puss out on him and find somebody else to blame. That leaves us with guys like Leonard Davis, Keith Brooking, Marion Barber, Andre Gurode, Ken Hamlin,Terrance Newman, and two different Roy Williamses.
The whole scapegoating thing is why listening to sports talk radio in Dallas is like having rectal cancer turned into amplitude-modulated waves and broadcast from a 50,000-watt tower somewhere in Flower Mound, Texas. It’s been the same fades-under-power-lines static coming from Cowboy fans for nearly two decades now, and it usually sounds something like this…
“We finally got rid of (insert overpaid, overrated, yet-still-Pro-Bowl player here). Now the Cowboys can finally win another Super Bowl!”
It starts like this. Take this opening win over the Giants; a typical early-season “big” win for the Cowboys in which Tony Romo didn’t kill Dallas with one of his patented choke-jobs. Until the first Cowboy loss, Dallas sports talk radio will be this electronic silver-and-blugasm which will be little more than a bunch of beef jerky and Busch beer-fueled screaming about how the Cowboys are going to the Super Bowl.
Then it happens…just as it does every year, and certainly during those of the Tony Romo era.
Tony Romo Example #2: Quotes From The Dubsism Archives
…As much as Romo has a reputation for being a choker, it’s Jerry Jones who can’t get Romo’s jock out of his throat. For some reason, Jones sees Troy Aikman when he looks at Romo. But to be fair, Aikman had a far better set of playmakers around him. Romo’s had the same pressure, and a hodge-podge, B+ at best supporting cast. Don’t get me wrong, Romo is still a mediocre at-best quarterback, but there are still a lot worse options out there. What do you think the Cowboy offense might look like with Donovan “39 passing yards” McNabb at the helm?
I can’t believe I’m defending Tony Romo in two consecutive weeks, but all the people who piled on him last week now have to give credit where it is due. Leading a comeback in overtime after suffering a cracked rib counters everything that was said about Romo last week; namely he’s soft and he chokes in big-game moments. Granted, he needs to pull moments like yesterday more often, but he can only do it one Sunday at a time.
Two weeks in a row, Tony Romo has shown an industrial-sized set of balls he’s never shown before. First there was that comeback win in San Francisco with a cracked rib and a punctured lung, then there’s the performance he turned in on Monday night, leading the Cowboys to another victory in spite of themselves. The Plowboys offense couldn’t even snap the ball effectively, and even when they did, the receivers couldn’t run the right routes, and even when they pulled off those two minor miracles, they still couldn’t catch the damn ball. With the sole exception of Dez Bryant’s catch on that 3rd-and-21 play, the Cowboys offense played without organization and focus, which is why they stumbled into 375 Romo-led yards of total offense and a win considering they never once found the end zone.
With all the ups and downs, one would think you would find the “Romo-Coaster” at Six Flags over Texas rather than Cowboys Stadium. Week 1, he’s a choke-artist. Weeks 2 and 3, he showed “a rare brand of guts and leadership.” Now, he sucks again. Even ESPN doens’t know what to do with him.
There’s the “pro” side, as evidenced by Eric Mangini.
“But ex-Jets coach Eric Mangini said a couple of Romo’s picks against the Lions were not his fault. The gutsy Romo has also led the Cowboys to two victories this season despite playing with injured ribs.”
Then’s there’s the “con” side…
“Really, you saw the best of Tony Romo in a brilliant first half as he pushed Dallas to a 20-3 lead that swelled to 27-3 after the Cowboys took the second-half kickoff and drove for a touchdown. Then we witnessed the worst of Romo. He threw three second-half interceptions — two were absolutely awful decisions — providing the catalyst for Detroit’s comeback.”
After all the hand-wringing and gnashing of teeth, NBC’s Bob Costas probably has the best observation…
“Here’s a guy who see-saws between hero’s laurels and goat horns, seemingly game to game. And today, it was half to half. Romo had three TD throws in the first 33 minutes against the undefeated Lions, but then, three picks – two of them returned for touchdowns,” said Costas.”This has been the pattern of Romo’s season, and, as it’s shaping up, his career. At any moment he is apt to rescue his team with feats of daring do, often showing the presence of mind to improvise his way out of one crisis after another. And then, the next week, or maybe the next moment, he’ll turn in a performance or make a decision that sends Cowboys fans to the ledge.”
After all, good Romo or bad Romo doesn’t matter…Cowboys’ fans ripping their collective hair out is what’s important.
Again, if you call yourself a Cowboys’ fan, and you can see the pattern at work here, then you aren’t the Cowboy fan I’m talking about. You understand the real problem with the Cowboys isn’t Tony Romo or any of the other aforementioned scapegoats. You see there is actually one nuclear-powered douchebag who is solely responsible for the Cowboys’ nearly two decades of irrelevance, and his name is Jerry Jones. I’ll come back to that later.
The typical blame-thrower Cowboy fan will read this screed against his beloved silver-and-blue, and will take time from emptying the septic tank on his double-wide to not-so-subtly let me know about his conceal-carry permit for daring such football blasphemy.
The typical blame-thrower Cowboy fan is the guy who calls up the aforementioned AM ass-cancer sports talk station and bleats shit like how the Cowboys need to trade Tony Romo for Tom Brady (as if that could ever happen), but he says this crap while he’s wearing a Tony Romo jersey.
Unquestionably, the biggest problem with such Cowboy scapegoating is that its very misguided nature keeps missing the real problem. Cowboy fans waste so much time celebrating the departure of their “scapegoats” they completely forget the guy they replaced him with sucks dog-vomit. Why haven’t Cowboy fans figured out that when they cut their Pro Bowl center (Andre Gurode) because he fell into disfavor, they replace him with a guy who couldn’t hit water if he snapped the ball out of a fucking boat (Phil Costa)? And why haven’t Cowboy fans figured out this really all lands on Jerry Jones’ shoulders?
The quick answer: because “scapegoating” should really be called “truth-avoiding.”
Phony Suffering Syndrome:
There is nothing…repeat, nothing…more pathetic than watching football fans who at the same time will tell you how crushingly great their team is while whining about how they have never won a goddamn thing. The best fans for this celebratory self-pitying are Minnesota Vikings fans, but at least they acquired it honestly since the Vikes have never won anything ever.
But for Cowboy fans to try to hide under such a banner of chronic futility is not only delusional; completely ignores the entire reason there are any Cowboy fans in the first fucking place. They didn’t always suck.
I’ve been a fan of the Philadelphia Eagles for my entire football-watching life, and that fandom isn’t long enough to remember the Eagles’ last championship season which just happened to be 52 years ago. But is long enough to remember when the Cowboys were a respectable rival; I always relished beating Tom Landry and Roger Staubach, but I always respected them. In those days, you savored a rare Eagle win over those guys from Dallas, because then beating them meant something.
I won’t lie; I hated Jimmy Johnson. I hated his George Jetson hair-do. I hated his “HOWWWWW ‘BOUT THEM CAAAWWWBOYS!” bullshit. I cheered when Eagles’ fans pelted him with battery-filled snowballs. But beating that Cowboy team also meant something because once they returned from the depths of the late 1980s, they weren’t laughably pathetic.
But since the Jimmy Johnson-built Cowboys faded into history, beating Dallas is like tripping a kid with cerebral palsy. As horrible as that sounds, dipshit Cowboys fans, through their sheer self-aggrandizing assholery, transform watching the handicapped kid full-on, face-first eat a curb into a soul-satisfying experience; because suddenly you have an epiphany that reveals despite his condition, the palsy kid is still a missile-silo sized dickhole who rapes puppies.
While that barely scratches the surface of how horrible Cowboys fans are, this is also the part where I have to remind you are the three exemptions from being what I’m calling a “Cowboy fan.” If you call yourself a Cowboy fan, you are exempt from this rant if:
- You saw the patterns in the aforementioned Tony Romo example, and realize the real problem in Dallas.
- You have a real tie to Texas – If your only connection to the Lone Star State is that your uncle’s ex-wife’s father was in the Air Force and was stationed in Texas for two years, you have no such connection.
- You can name at least five players from a Tom Landry-coached Super Bowl winning team.
Unless you meet one of those three criteria, FUCK YOU. You are exactly who I am talking about. You are part of the pack of horrible Cowboys fans, who are little more than a bunch of front-runners who have no ties to Dallas or Texas whatsoever. You are that insufferable ass-loaf who always ensures we know you are a “longtime Cowboys fan,” so that nobody thinks you are the typical band-wagon jumper from 1992, yet you get exposed the minute somebody realized you couldn’t name one of the two starting quarterbacks from the year before the Cowboys drafted Troy Aikman. You just don’t realize we all see through your bullshit, which is only part of why we all wish you would get some sort of voracious flesh-eating parasite.
But the real reason we all have an eyeball-popping hatred for you is your silly notion that you can be both impossibly arrogant and crying for pity simultaneously. You keep screaming about how great your team is, then moan for empathy when Tony Romo dickfucks your season yet again. Worse yet, now that it has becomes ass-rape painfully obvious that Jerry Jones has firmly inserted his wrinkly, Viagra-infused used-bourbon-drain into the rectum of the Cowboys’ future (again, I will expand on that later), you are taking that whining to stratospheric levels.
The funniest part is you are crying for pity, but you don’t know why. After all, you can’t understand that Jerry Jones is the problem, yet you want sympathy because the Cowboys can’t win. Ever since the Jimmy Johnson era, there was no more obnoxious group of fans. But now that the Cowboys have become the premier choke-maestros of the NFL, they have come looking for sympathy. That’s a supreme chunk of assholery trying to get under the same blanket of futility usually reserved for Lions, Bengals, and Vikings fans. Those people have lived through a half-century of sucking NFL swamp-water; they’ve earned the right to piss and moan like the fat girl who just got kicked out of cheerleader tryouts.
A Cowboys’ fan trying to claim they know suffering is like a Nazi concentration camp guard saying they understand Judaism. YOU ARE PART OF THE FUCKING PROBLEM, YOU TROGLODYTE! Cowboys’ fans sooooo deserve every bit of what they have now; this team is exactly what you get for casually attaching yourself to a dynasty all those years ago, then completely ignoring its obvious demise. Suck it up, take your medicine like a man, wait for Jerry Jones to die, and quit bitching about it.
2) Jerry Jones
I’ve already admitted that I’m a Philadelphia Eagle fan, which means Jerry Jones has given me the greatest gift imaginable; two decades of the Cowboys being a laughing stock. I didn’t think that was possible, and I sure as shit didn’t think it was possible to the extent Jones has reached. It’s both glorious and sad.
Stop and think about it. Jerry Jones has destroyed the Dallas Cowboys. Absolutely fucking destroyed them. Worse yet, waiting for the NFLs Crazy Old Man to die won’t help; he’s ensured his functionally-retarded son will take over once Jerry is in his mausoleum. Oh, wait, that’s already been done.
Stephen Jones has already been with the team for years. Stevie is already the Director of Player Personnel, which means Stevie is already involved with all the terrible drafts and awful contracts for mediocre players; there are as many Stevie fingerprints on the knife in the franchise’s back as there are from Jerry. This team is fucked for years to come, and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.
This is the part where I actually feel sorry for the legitimate Cowboy fans, the ones who met my criteria for exemption from this rant.
This brings us to the history lesson which puts this all in perspective. The Dallas Cowboys were founded in 1960. In no time at all, they became one of the best teams in the league, they were a main rival for championships with the Green Bay Packers in the late 1960’s. They played in their first Super Bowl in the 1970 season and won it in 1971. Even with the down years of the late 1980s, the Cowboys have never gone as long without even playing in a Super Bowl as they have now. We are talking about seventeen years, and the drought isn’t going to end anytime soon.
Face facts, the product the Cowboys are putting on the field can’t win. Yeah, Cowboy fans…tell me all about how you beat the Giants the other night. Come talk to me in December when all the flaws in this team sum up to yet another late-season fold.
The sad part for the old-school, honest-to-goodness Cowboy fans is they are the ones who remember what this team meant to the city of Dallas in the 70’s. The Rangers were perennially shitty. The Mavericks didn’t even exist yet, and the Stars were still in Minnesota. The Southwestern Conference was in its death throes and the Cowboys were the only thing Dallas had for sports.
Gone are the days of Tom Landry, Roger Staubach, and Tex Schramm. Jerry Jones dug up those legacies, sodomized their corpses, then pissed on them before he tossed them back into their graves.
He has completely destroyed the dignity of the franchise. Yeah, I know the old-school Cowboys had a bit of cocaine problem, but they never had a reprobate like Dez Bryant who literally needs 24-hour daycare so he doesn’t kill a hooker or beat up his mother (again).
He has destroyed the competitiveness of the franchise. Raise your hand if you remember the failed Quincy Carter experiment. That’s just one perfect example. The theme is simple; with his North Korean management style, Jerry has at the same time been the driving force behind hand-selecting a cavalcade of shitty players, then publicly de-balling his coaches for not being able to win with sub-par talent.
The only exception to this was Jimmy Johnson. The Cowboys only won three Super Bowls because Johnson was Jones’ roommate at the University of Arkansas, and even then, they didn’t get along particularly well. So, what happened? Johnson builds a team so talented even that glorified Pop Warner coach Barry Switzer could win with it, and for his reward, Jerry Jones fires him. Let that sink in for a minute. Jimmy Johnson built a team that won two straight championships and looked poised to win a shitload more, and Jerry Jones FIRED HIS ASS.
The reason why this happens is because Jones is a raving megalomaniac. There was simply no fucking way there was going to be a Cowboys head coach who was going to become a bigger star than Jerry. He doesn’t really care about the Cowboys; the team is simply the mechanism he uses to feed his meth-addict like need for attention. That’s why Jerry Jones can’t help stepping up to any available microphone and saying anything that makes him the center of attention. That’s why he demands the crap-basket players he acquires are showcased, so that he looks like the football genius he believes he is. That’s why he undercuts his coaches when those crap-baskets play like crap-baskets. And that’s why the Cowboys haven’t won in seventeen years.
The reality is that in the beginning, Jones loved winning because it brought him attention. But eventually, the winning became incidental. The Cowboys were once a dynasty, and now they bob like a peanut and corn flecked turd in an unflushed toilet of mediocrity. The Cowboys used to have legitimate superstars, and now field a roster of has-beens and never-will-bes. The one constant is Jerry Jones feeding his need for attention. Every time a Cowboy shows up in any non-sports media outlet, Jones masturbates like a spider monkey, because he knows there will yet another camera crew getting in his death-mask-like face.
When somebody goes back and does the complete post-mortem on the corpse that is the Cowboys franchise, the exact date of death would ironically be Super Bowl XXX. Winning that Super Bowl was the death blow to this team because like the chunk of undigested Porterhouse steak that will eventually kill him, that win wedged in Jerry Jones’ brain the fatal concept that he was in fact the football genius his delusions told him he was.
He didn’t need Jimmy Fucking Johnson. Jerry Jones convinced himself that he, and he alone, was the determinant of the Cowboys’ fortunes. He beleived the team he assembled could win with any fucktard as a head coach, and he just happened to have a fucktard extraordinaire in Barry Switzer. What better coach could there be for a team full of coke-heads (Google-search “Dallas Cowboys cocaine” for a full afternoon of reading enjoyment) and drug dealers than a guy who gets arrested trying to take a gun onto an airplane?
Barry Switzer rode Jimmy Johnson’s juggernaut of talent to a Super Bowl win; cementing his place for the next decade as the sole Championship winning coach whose name NEVER came up whenever the was a high-profile coaching vacancy. To this day, NFL owners needing a head coach line up to lick Bill Cowher’s spooge off a truck-stop bathroom floor, knowing full well that in addition to his Super Bowl victory, he lost FOUR – count them – FOUR AFC Championship games AT HOME. WHEN HIS TEAM WAS FAVORED. FOUR. Those same spooge-lickers never once had the name “Switzer” in their mouths.
There’s a reason for that. The rest of the league knew something that Jerry never figured out; the guy most responsible for the Cowboys’ win in Super Bowl XXX wasn’t anybody in Dallas, it was Pittsburgh quarterback Neil “Would you like that interception gift-wrapped?” O’Donnell. O’Donnell made a Super Bowl MVP out of Larry Brown (a guy who is now stocking shelves at a Sam’s Club somewhere), which in turn handed the Lombardi Trophy to a Cowboy team which has won exactly ONE play-off game since then, which in turn made Jerry Jones have some sort of self-coronation as of the unquestioned lord and high master of all things Dallas football.
And as he gets closer to being reunited with Al Davis, he gets farther away from reality. The evidence is everywhere. There’s There’s the Rapping Jerry. There’s the “glory hole days” comment. The true Cowboy fans have suffered in silence with Jones’s lunacy for close to two decades, but the truly frightening part is that end in Dallas will probably look a lot like how it ended for the NFL’s original crazy old man in Oakland. You know before it’s over, the Cowboys will have a JaMarcus Russell moment; hell, you can argue that Quincy Carter was the fore-runner for over-hyped non-Heath Shuler SEC quarterbacks.
That saddest part is that you can just tell Jones will go out kicking and screaming, just like all great megalomaniac power mongers. The end in Oakland for Al Davis saw a veritable smorgasbord of NFL scraps and left-overs in silver and black, and Dallas is becoming a Texas-sized steam table offering the same awful football offal. As you read this, the Cowboys’ core is aging by the core , and once they are gone, what’s left of the Cowboys will be little more than dogshit that dries up and blows away under the hot Texas sun.
At the end of the day, the essence of Jerry Jones can be boiled down to two sentences. Two-time Super Bowl winning coach Bill Parcells says “either Terrelle Owens goes or I go.” Jerry Jones says “Terrelle Owens is staying.”
Need I say more?
3) Just A Lot of Bad Football, and Much More To Come
None of that changes the fact that at the end of the day, it’s really about football, which, if I haven’t already mentioned, Jerry Jones has also completely destroyed. The core of the Cowboys —Tony Romo, Miles Austin, DeMarcus Ware, Jay Ratliff, and Jason Witten — are all relics from the Bill Parcells era. Jones has spent nearly a decade failing to build around that core, and the end result is this team sucks out loud.
We already know about Romo. The offensive line consists of Tyron Smith and four used subway turnstiles. The defensive front seven is DeMarcus Ware, Jay Ratliff, Sean Lee, and four traffic cones. Morris Claiborne promises to add a lot of payroll to a secondary that couldn’t cover a two-foot table with a ten-foot table cloth, and to see this week’s Cowboy running back, just look up “over-rated and short-lived.” Did you know the last Cowboy back to carry the ball for over 1,000 yards was Julius Jones in 2006? Since then the Cowboy running game has been a collection of B and C list guys toiling behind the NFL’s version of the Siegfried Line.
Let’s not forget that lack of talent is led by a similar lack of coaching talent. Rex and Rob Ryan are fraternal twins, and its pretty clear Rob is the one who didn’t get enough oxygen at birth. That has to be why he loves to telegraph a 10-man blitz on 3rd-and-short, and thereby turning a two-yard run into a thirty-five yard touchdown pass. Then there’s Jason “I’m going to ice my own kicker” Garrett. Let’s look at a typical Cowboy offensive sequence under Garrett:
- 1st & 10: Romo drops back to pass, which he over/under throws or is dropped after hitting (insert receiver here*) in the hands. Pass incomplete.
- 2nd & 10: Romo hands off to Felix Jones, who inexplicably runs up Tyron Smith’s ass and flops to the ground for a 2-yard loss.
- 3rd & 12: 30-yard strike to Dez Bryant who makes a high-light reel catch. Play called back for holding.
- 3rd & 22: If the Cowboys have already gone three-and-out at least twice, this will be a touchdown somehow. Don’t ask how, not even Romo or Garrett know that either at this point (DeMarco Murray’s “how the hell did that happen” long run the other night is the perfect example). If not, this will be a pass complete to a receiver who for some reason is only 15 yards downfield, which forces a punt.
*Many times, even Romo doesn’t know who is in the huddle with him, because the Cowboys have developed a reputation for grabbing dudes off the street, plunking a helmet on them and telling them “just go deep.” This happens because every single week, it is very likely that either Miles Austin blew a hamstring answering his phone or Dez Bryant is on Death Row. This is why you can see Cowboy receivers staring blankly at Romo until he literally has to run over to tell them they are supposed to stand and what route they are supposed to run. Don’t laugh, this happens at least a couple times a month.
If you expand this out to a full season, it becomes fully apparent why the Cowboys are doomed to be no better than 8-8. The other night’s win at New York primes the pump (WE’RE BACK!!! HOWWWWW ‘BOUT THEM CAAAWWWBOYS!!!), then courtesy of some logic-defying Jason Garrett play calls, there will be a defeat at the hands of either a team even the Cowboys should beat (see Seattle next week), or an over-rated “contender” (see Atlanta in week 9). Then comes the completely inexplicable loss to the dregs of the league (circle Week 11 against Cleveland on your calendar), which begins the “Romo Sucks” calls (actual post from dallascowboys.com message board: “ROMO IS THE WORST WE NEED A REAL QB LET’S TRADE FOR TEBOW HE JUST WINS GAMES!”).
The rest is history. Yet another Cowboys season crumbles into mediocrity, Jerry Jones’ cerebral arteries nudge ever close to that crippling stroke he’s been saving up for, and Tony Romo spends another off-season as the most hated man in Dallas since Lee Harvey Oswald. At least Oswald could reliably hit a moving target at 40 yards…
4) Eventually, I Had To Do A Tony Romo Breakdown
I’ve brought up Tony Romo’s name so much in this piece that it would be Jason Garrett-type logic not to give him his own sub-heading. If you want to see Romo puke it up like cheerleader trying to win the Bulimic of the Year award, just put a Cowboys game on Sunday night. There’s little arguing with seven straight Sunday Night Football losses, and each one of those three-and-a-half hour turdfests was more pathetic than the preceding one.
If the other night’s win over the Giants had been on Sunday, the Cowboys would have stood no chance to win. None. The Polish Cavalry stood a better chance against the Luftwaffe. The Washington Generals would be a steal of a bet in comparison. For some delightful reason, Tony Romo turns into the aforementioned fully-automated, hydraulically-powered fuck-up machine after 8:30 pm. Eastern Time on a Sunday. Now that Brett Favre is gone, if you need a never-ending supply of disemboweling, cataclysmic, season-destroying moments, look no further than Tony Romo on a Sunday night.
Regardless of the night, post-Favre Tony Romo, without the cock shots and the “will I, won’t I” retirement bullshit, is now your home for the unbelievable interception that makes even non-Cowboy fans head for the optometrist because they simply can’t fucking believe what they’ve just seen.
Regardless of the day, sitting in front of your television during a Cowboys game is like a convoluted “Romo Roulette;” within the span of three minutes you can watch him hit a guy perfectly in stride on a deep post for a 60-yard score, then on a 4th-and-2 drill the ball directly into the back of an offensive lineman’s head.
That’s who Tony Romo is, and expecting it to change is like shooting out all your light bulbs so the sun will go down.
5) The Diseased Culture Created By The Marriage of Jerry Jones and the Dipshit Cowboys Fans
In all honesty, I think the thing that makes me hate the Cowboys the most has really nothing to with Jerry Jones or the fans individually; rather it is the birth of a completely self-absorbed culture their marriage created. When Jimmy Johnson arrived from the University of Miami, he planted a seed in the manure-rich Cowboy environment for the most annoying thing in the NFL to grow. We must never forget that it was the U of Miami Hurricanes who began all that overdone celebratory bullshit like signaling after every single fucking first down, shouting and clowning after every single fucking tackles, taking off helmets for camera-mugging purposes, et cetera, ad nauseum…
While it started in Miami, it was the unholy trinity of Jones, Johnson, and the Cowboys fanbase that brought this shit to the NFL. It was the Cowboys who were the first in the NFL to over-celebrate the ordinary, and they were the first to make it completely and utterly ridiculous. There was nothing more obnoxious than watching Cowboys fans going apeshit over Kenny Gant’s “Sharkdance.” The saddest part is he used to do it before kick returns…BEFORE even the most unspectacular play…BEFORE potentially nothing. And then Cowboy fans would go crazy over a touchback. Barf.
While that crap came from Miami, if you really want a good college football comparison for the Cowboys, look no farther than South Bend. When you get right down it, the Cowboys really are the Notre Dame of the NFL. They are brilliantly marketed; you can’t find a single city in America where it is impossible to find some mouth-breather decked out in either Cowboy or Irish gear. The marketing thing becomes even more impressive when you consider they both live off distant memories of days gone two decades by when either of them mattered. Of course, they can still be marketed without winning since at any given moment, there will be the American sports media tickling their collective chins with Cowboy and/or Irish ball hair. This is why the Cowboys and the Irish ALWAYS are completely over-rated; this is why the Cowboys and the Irish keep winning championships on the front pages in September, and are little more than so much faded newsprint by January.
But let’s get back to the marriage analogy. If you are a Cowboys fan who doesn’t remember the pre-Jerry Jones era, think of it as a family where the father died unexpectedly and you are one of the kids. Legendary head coach Tom Landry was the father. Dear old Dad was a stern, but respected figure who kept everything in the household on track and aboveboard. Jerry Jones plays the role of the mother. When “Mom” first got involved with “Dad,” everything seemed to work out fine, but then one day, Dad croaked and “Mom” underwent a drastic change.
At first, you didn’t really notice how drastic the change was, because realistically, the first new “Dad” wasn’t really all that different. He was a car salesman named Jimmy, and while he had a much larger personality and a much better haircut than original Dad, he was nevertheless a tremendous provider who still took care of the kids. Jimmy was smart, owned his own car dealership, brought home the bacon, and always gave the kids everything they ever wanted, especially that year when you and Mom both got new convertibles for Christmas. Your family was the envy of every other on the block. But then one day, Mom and Dad got into a fight because Dad said something about how your grades were slipping, and he made a suggestion that pissed your mother off royally. She thought Jimmy was trying to tell her how to raise her kid, and while the relationship seemed to survive this, the death blow had been struck. Mom and Dad kept a good face on things for you, but Mom secretly bitched to her friends about being underappreciated and decided that since he knew so much about her kids, she started meddling in his car dealership, which was the final straw. Jimmy filed for a divorce, sold the car dealership, bought a new one in Miami, and you never saw him again.
After the divorce, Mom told you everything would be fine, and for a while, it seemed as if it would be. Jimmy forked over big alimony, and Mom got to keep the house and all the convertibles. Then Mom met this new guy named Barry. He was a lot like Jimmy; in fact he was also a car salesman. But he didn’t have his own dealership, he didn’t have a hair-product-advertisement quality haircut, and he wasn’t very smart. Sure, he was personable enough; he sure seemed cool. Hell, he even let you play with his gun before he packed it for business trips. Mom even let Barry take you joy-riding in Jimmy’s old convertible. Then, one day Barry had 14 stingers during happy hour and plowed Jimmy’s convertible into a tree.
After Barry’s funeral, Mom shacked up with a cavalcade of losers. First, there was this guy named Chan. He wasn’t around long. Chan was bald, had bad teeth, and had this weird southern accent. He wasn’t a bad guy, but Mom told all of her friends that sleeping with Chan was like eating a Velveeta sandwich on white bread with extra mayonaisse. Naturally, Mom tired of him quickly, and one day Chan came home from work and found all his stuff out on the front lawn.
Then, there was Dave. Dave was really a bit of a loser, but it really wasn’t all his fault. By now, Mom had turned into a hagged-out old cock-socket, she had blown through all the money she had from the divorce from Jimmy, the convertibles were now high-mileage wrecks traded in for used Ford Crown Victorias, and Mom was buying all your clothes at Wal-Mart. In other words, your life was was a giant shit sandwich; extra-heavy on shit because you didn’t have any bread.
Dave was the guy who made you realize how good you really had it with your real Dad; and even Jimmy made things pretty damn good for you. You also know that deep down in places Mom won’t admit, she knows those were the salad days as well. You now realize that you are no longer the envy of every other family on the block; now everybody is keeping up with the Belichicks and the Coughlins. Hell, even those weird Manning Brothers who live together at the end of the block with senile father have it better than you. Mom hung on to Dave much longer than she should have, but let’s be honest…Mom’s days of getting a good man were pretty much behind her.
Then one day Mom met this guy on Facebook named Bill. Despite the fact Bill was one of those salty old guys who thinks everybody under the age of 40 is a marshmallow-soft puss-bag and that was pretty much why he got a steady diet of dog-shit flambé on the front step, somehow he reeled in Mom from the precipice of complete white-trash-skank-baggery. Mom had let the house she got from Jimmy pretty much go to shit, so Bill got her to hire a new handyman named Romo. The trouble was that Bill wasn’t a healthy guy (he had a body that looked a condom filled with tapioca pudding with a belt around it), and when he saw what a complete thumb-fuck this backward-baseball-cap wearing Romo was, his pig-heart valve burst “Alien”-style out of his chest and he was dead before his dental implants hit the floor.
For some reason, this experience gave Mom a hankering for fat, old guys. This meant for a while, she shacked up with this guy named Wade. Wade was a really nice guy, and everybody liked him, but he was a 275-pound wad of spineless cheese, and Mom did nothing but de-ball him even more.
Now, you hate your life so much that after you couldn’t get into the Texas National Guard, you ran off and did the whole carny thing making kids puke on the Tilt-A-Whirl at county fairs. Mom lives in this big new double-wide trailer that is supposed to look “modern” but it actually looks Frank Lloyd Wright and Frank Gehry made a baby; and Mom’s new trailer isn’t the baby…it’s the afterbirth. But, Mom’s place has the biggest flat-screen TV you’ve ever seen; it so big she had to hang it from the roof rather than mount it on a wall.
The trouble is the reason why you won’t go to Mom’s house to play Xbox on a TV the size of New Jersey is that Mom decided she was tired of the blubby geezers and is now doing a bit of cradle-robbing with the TV delivery guy. Captain Flat-Screen is only a few years older than you (his name is Jason…60% percent of the douche-nozzles in the universe are named Jason), but there’s something just not right about him. He’s a smarmy ginger who keeps telling you about how smart he is (he says he went to Princeton), and whether or not you buy his story isn’t the problem. Yeah, it’s easy to wonder why an Ivy Leaguer is delivering TVs and hanging around with geriatric sperm-dumpsters. You just can’t bring yourself to sit on the couch playing Call of Duty next to a guy you know will be blasting his ginger-spuzz into your Mom’s denture-free mouth (or, God Forbid, the most un-holy of blast-off orifices) twenty minutes after the tail-lights of your Texas hoop-dy hit the I-20 on-ramp.
If you get the metaphors flowing from the previous ten paragraphs , you are clearly not the aforementioned dipshit Cowboys fan. Dipshit Cowboys fans think a “Metaphor” is a Ford car built in the 1950’s, and they certainly would never understand that “Mom’s new double-wide” is actually the new Cowboys Stadium. For those same dipshit Cowboy fans, “Conclusion” also means “bottom-line reasons why you will send me hate mail.” With that…
The legitimate Cowboy fan is to be empathized with. While there are three legs in this un-holy trinity, there is an argument to be made as to who plays what role in the Dallas Cowboys’ “team-fan-owner” menage á trois. The best one, which is also the most credible, has the legitimate Cowboys fans getting put on the spit-roast; being simultaneously prison-probed by a team willing to shove the illusion of success down your throat while Jerry Jones puts some hefty ticket prices in your ass.
The dipshit Cowboy fan, for all he does in terms of pumping money into the coffers of the NFL, is still a dipshit. They are a collection of socio-economic dingle-berries who do little more than stain t-shirts with chewing tobacco drool and think the return of Emmitt Smith and Troy Aikman is merely the invention of a time-machine away. In other words, they are a bunch of neck-haired rednecks who deserve an owner like Jerry Jones; and in turn, a megalomaniac vertebrate hemmorhoid like Jones deserves a fan base that believes “I only put it in her butt” is a plausible defense against an incest charge.