Mighty Mo Owns Texas

Look, this is Texas. In the summer, we rival Hell for heat, and beat the h-e-double L outta Hell for mosquitos and chiggers (well, the chigger thing is mostly east Texas, but rattlesnakes and Mesquite thorns make up for their absence in west Texas.) In the winter, we get just enough freezing rain every year to challenge our ability to drive our SUVs 70 everywhere we go. We like our trucks monster size, our women hot, and our sports, well, football. This is not hockey country.

Every other sport is judged against the national sport of Texas. Basketball is fine once football season is over. At least it keeps us from having to watch American Idol with our wives. Baseball is ok, too, except the Rangers suck and the Astros are in Houston, and Houston sucks. But football! Football is king. Churches plan big days around the great game. Pastors cut sermons short and some churches have even decided Sunday evening services are superfluous, I am convinced, because people get suspicious when the preacher calls in sick every time the Cowboys play a late game.

Texans' three favorite sports are Cowboys football, high school football, and either Longhorns or Aggies football (depending on whether you prefer gay military cheers and girls that look like goats or the classy confines of Austin town and super-cool stylings of Burnt Orange-and-White.) We grew up playing football anywhere and everywhere we could, from asphalt streets to gravel pits. What we did not grow up doing was playing hockey. The only ice we could find was in the fridge or the cold stare we got when we dared approach the homecoming queen with a date proposition. We didn't play hockey. We didn't watch hockey. And we didn't see how any right thinking person could call Wayne Gresky "The Great One" when he never even met Bob Lilly, let alone got his ass tackled by him.

Enter Mike Modano. When the Minnesota NHL franchise decided to head south and introduce Dallas/Fort Worth to hockey, they had one ace in the hole...Mighty Mo. Singlehandedly, Modano made fans of us all. He showed us that grace, class, toughness, and speed could be demonstrated somewhere other than the gridiron. His rugged good looks and boyish grin made our women fans. His quiet voice, understated persona, and high profile female trophy bagging won over Generations X and Y. And his leadership style, his willingness to bite his tongue when mistreated by management, and get up and go again when clocked by a cheap shot won over the Baby Boomers and their parents.

Modano is our kinda guy, a Texan's Texan, even if he is from the frozen tundra of "up North." We forgive him all that. We embrace him. And we celebrate his new status as greatest American-born scorer of all freakin' time, baby!

Move over Roger. Make room, Troy. Time for Mike to join you.

To The Men Who Lose!

America loves a winner. We celebrate champions and forget also-rans. We say things like, "Second place is just the first loser." We quote people like Vince Lombardi, who declared, "Winning isn't everything; it's the only thing." We spawn ridiculous Hollywood characters like Ricky Bobby's daddy, who told his adolescent son, "If you aren't in first place, you're in last place!"

Of course, it is about winning. If it wasn't, then why keep score? Why name champions? Why hand out trophies and rings? We all want to win. But there is something to be said for a hard-fought loss, too, isn't there? What about that team that climbs the mountain again and again, only to be knocked down when they reach the peak?

What about the Buffalo Bills of the early 90's? We talk about dynasties and we mention the Packers of the 60s, the Steelers of the 70s, the 49ers of the 80s, the Cowboys of the 90s, and the Patriots of this decade. These are dynasties, to be sure. But which of these played in four consecutive Super Bowls? None of them. The Bills did. The first one, they lost in a heart-breaker. Remember wide right? They were blown out in a couple, too. But they climbed that mountain. They made that incredible journey over and over. Are they losers?

What about the Cowboys of the '70s, the most under-represented near-dynasty team in the Pro Football Hall of Fame? They were a part of an incredible run under coach Tom Landry, in which the Cowboys made the playoffs for 20 consecutive years. They made 5 Super Bowl Appearances in that 10-year period, winning two of them. Each of their losses was by less than a touchdown, and the two games against the Steelers were instant classics.

We all love - and remember - the winners. But history should also remember those who left their blood, sweat, and tears on the field of battle, who strove and fought the good fight only to be at last bested by a force greater than themselves on that particular day. Remember them, because losing doesn't make you a loser. Quitting does.

In my library, one of my favorite books is Best-Loved Poems of the American People. In it I found this poem by George L. Scarborough:

Here's To The Men Who Lose

Here's to the men who lose!
What though their work be e'er so nobly planned,
And watched with zealous care,
No glorious halo crowns their efforts grand;
Contempt is failure's share.

Here's to the men who lose!
If Triumph's easy smile our struggles greet,
Courage is easy then;
The King is he, who after fierce defeat,
Can up and fight again.

Here's to the men who lose!
The ready plaudits of a fawning world
Ring sweet in victors' ears;
The vanquished banners never are unfurled,
For them there sound no cheers.

Here's to the men who lose!
the touchstone of true worth is not success.
There is a higher test -
Though fate may darkly frown, onward to press,
And bravely do one's best.

Here's to the men who lose!
It is the vanquished's praises that I sing.
And this is the toast I choose:
"A hard-fought failure is a noble thing!
Here's to the men who lose."

Is Greg Ellis Sorry?

Most have no trouble spotting sorriness when they see it in, say, Terrell Owens or Randy Moss. The flamboyant athlete in a team sport, the one who seems to exude the me-first mentality is an easy mark. So, when T.O. had his little was-it-a-suicide-attempt-or-not thing last year, or when he missed most of training camp and hammed it up on his stationary bike while the rest of the team beat the dog out of each other, sports pundits had no problem saying, "Heeere we go again!"

But then there are the "good guys," the "team players." You know, the guys who are always courteous to the media and go about their business quietly and toe the company line. Guys like, oh, I don't know, Greg Ellis. Greg Ellis, a team captain. Greg Ellis, an upstanding guy. Greg Ellis, a hard worker.

Greg Ellis, a bum? Maybe! Consider that the Cowboys' trainers have said, since way back in training camp, that Ellis was fine to play as far as they could tell. Consider that he missed all of training camp, all of the preseason, and three regular season games. Consider that as soon as Jerry Jones stepped up and said that if Greg would play, he would purchase an additional $2 million dollar insurance policy for the player out of his own pocket to get him on the field, Ellis felt well enough to play the very next game. Jerry essentially agreed to work out a new deal for a player who was under contract, a player who had signed a deal, and a nice one, of his own volition, and then decided it wasn't good enough and he didn't want to be a Cowboy anymore.

Ellis has basically held Jones and the Cowboys hostage for two years. He has pissed and moaned to the media over and over. He has insisted that he wasn't sure he was healthy enough to play...until...he got what he wanted. Then, voila, he is miraculously cured, plays against the Rams, and records a sack and gets credit for half of another.

So, this "team" player abandoned his teammates, deserted his post, contemplated retirement (yeah right), and rode the pine until Jones ponied up. Credit Jerry for putting the team's interests ahead of his own sense of propriety and accommodating Ellis. But be wary, Cowboys' fans, of the fallout. What will happen the next time a player is unhappy with his contract? Will he remember Ellis and suddenly develop a phantom injury?

I know, I know! Ellis' injury was serious, the kind that can be difficult to come back from, the kind that can end a career. But it didn't; he healed. He got better. And he did not retire. He just refused to play until he got what he wanted.

Sometimes that whole team player or team cancer thing is murkier water than anyone cares to admit. But, hey, the Cowboys are 4-0 and riding high.

So, who cares, right?

Romomantic, Ain't It?

If you didn't see that bit of magic Tony Romo pulled off Sunday against the Rams, well, you gotta see it! Third down and four and the ball is snapped a mile over his head. He gives chase, running full out toward his own goalline, boots the ball trying to pick it up, keeps chasing, finally secures it, and begins his 180 degree turn...all of this with the entire Rams' defensive line in hot pursuit. Headed up the left sideline, Romo breaks one tackle, head fakes another would-be tackler out of his jock strap, fakes a pass to avoid another, and scampers for a first down. All told, he ran about seventy yards to pick up the first down. Ultimately, that drive would end in a touchdown...and the game would be inexorably turned in the favor of the 'Boys.

Still, on a local Sunday night sports report, one Dallas sportswriter said, given the choice, he would still take Drew Brees over Tony Romo. Some people are slow learners; others are just plain retarded. Betting on Romo to be a stud for a long time to come right now is tantamount to insider trading. Comparatively speaking, guys like Brees look more ordinary every day. While Brees and the Saints falter, Romo and his Cowboys continue to flourish.

Moreover, Tony Romo may be the fastest rising stock in America. While Jerry Jones and Romo's agent haggle, the kid keeps doing magical things that raise the price of doing business. We could be looking at a nine-figure contract with 20 - 25 million in guaranteed money!

No wonder there is a movement in the gay community to bag this guy. I have read that some are showing up for games wearing shirts that say things like "Homos for Romo," and "I'm a Romosexual." In the 90's, it was Aikman and Steve Young the gay community kept trying to claim. I guess that is some sort of sign you have arrived.

Well, I am no Romosexual, myself. But, I am definitely a Romo Sapien.

Go Cowboys!

Super Cheaters

Roger Goodell has had more than enough on his plate in this second year of his oversight of the NFL. First drug abusers, then dog-fighters, and now good old-fashioned, first-class cheaters.

In light of the way the New England Patriots were caught red-handed and pants-down, we can now officially end the debate over whether the bums deserve to be in the debate over who is the all-time greatest team and begin the debate over whether the penalty they received was harsh enough.

Goodell, thus far, has been the modern-day equivalent of Judge Roy Bean, the famed "hangin' judge" of the Pecos. His responses to league violations have been swift and severe. Until now.

So, Belichick, the head football cheater of the Patriots was fined $500,000. Big whoop! You think he will miss it? Do you really even think that, ultimately, when all is said and done and the Boston Cheaters figure a way to slide the money under the table to the head cheater, the money will even come out of his pocket?

Wade Wilson, the Cowboys' quarterback coach, a man living on pauper's wages in comparison to Belichick is serving a five game suspension in addition to the hundred thousand dollar fine he received for an infraction of the rules that occurred before he was on the staff of the Cowboys. He bought human growth hormone (HGH) online. The natural speculation would be that he was buying it to give to Bears players. So far, no fines or suspensions have been slapped on the Monsters of the Midway. Nope! The cowboys are being inconvenienced and penalized for what went down on the Bears' watch.

I guess that is another story entirely, except it begs the question: where is the suspension for Belichick? If a little HGH is worth five games, what is blatantly cheating during the course of a game worth? And if a lowly quarterbacks coach deserves a suspension for misbehavior, should the head cheater not be held to at least as high a standard?

The team penalty in the form of a first round draft pick if the Pats make the playoffs or a second and third if they don't seems equitable enough. How about this though? Forfeit the game we KNOW they cheated to win. Make the miserable low-life bastards who make a mockery of your sport 0-1 rather than 1-0!

Why isn't this a bigger story? Why is there no groundswell, no across-the-board demand for justice? Why does the mighty media of the Northeast wink at this? Is it because it is their beloved Patriots? Would they be ready to torch Jerry Jones if this had happened in Dallas?

Hey! I know justice is blind, but does it have to be retarded? Or...is it justice at all? One thing for sure, we should do history justice and drop the Patriots from any and all conversations about greatest team ever. There are some Packers, Steelers, 49ers, and Cowboys teams who deserve better company than that.

Spags Fawns Over Woody

When your check is cut by Jerry Jones, you don't have to be a homer, but you have to enjoy home cooking. Mickey Spagnola certainly does. His Cowboys-tinted glasses makes the football field all silver and blue. Anyone who has read his columns or listened to his "Ranch Reports" on the Ticket knows that.

That's ok with us. We're homers too. We know it. We admit. We love it.

We also love the love the Mick gives Darren Woodson in his recent dallascowboys.com column. Without specifically calling Roy Williams out or overtly pointing the finger at the Parcells regime and yelling, "Dumbass!", Spags remembers the halcyon days when free safeties were interchangeable around here...all because of the versatility and football prowess of the great Darren Woodson.

You know the old adage about not knowing what you have until you don't anymore? Truth be told, we are all guilty of falling into that trap. These past couple of years, we have all known there was something missing in that Cowboys' secondary.

Mickey reminds us...it's not a what, it's a who.