It has been quite some time since I could claim myself as a Dallas Cowboys fan. Many, many years it has been. I think it was when the Cowboys became the so-called “America’s Team” that I swore off of them. How dare them! America’s team, my ass. Whose team was the Charger’s, Tijuana?
Nonetheless, I hate it and feel somewhat sorry that Cowboy’s super-ego and owner Jerry Jones fired Wade Phillips as coach. Part of my feelings can be chalked up to hometown pride. Although I grew up an hour or so where Phillips went to high school, Wade and his dad, the Oilers and Saints head coach “Bum” Phillips are a part of Southeast Texas lore as much as the Spindletop gusher, Johnny Winter and Seaport coffee.
Beyond sentiment it has been somewhat lost that Wade Phillips coached the team. He didn’t play. Dare I say the last time Wade seriously donned pads was when he played linebacker in 1964 for the Port Neches-Groves Indians and later for the University of Houston Cougars.
I forgot who the sports radio wise man it was who said so but whomever it was hit it on the head when he said just prior to Wade’s dismissal that the Cowboys players needed to step up and be men, and admit they have played stink ball. Some say the Cowboys have “dialed in” their games. Others say words about the Dallas playing that even I steered clear of when I as a sailor. Phillips has coached a group of multi-millionaire football aristocrats. Many sports pundits had Dallas picked as the first NFL team to play a Super Bowl game in their own house. That house, of course, is the house (palace) that Jerry built. Jerry didn’t let anyone stand in his way building that palace either.
Here I go on and on about a team I mostly enjoy watch getting ripped a new one. Of course, my team over in nearby Houston has their own problems. But when you mess with homeboys you at least get a verb, an adverb and at least an adjective or two thrown your way
Now if I can only come up with such suitable parts of speech to use.