While looking for coverage of Quincy Carter's bizarre conversation with Rhyner and Williams yesterday on The Ticket (none found yet), I stumbled across a couple of columns from Richie Whitt (formerly of the Startlegram, now writing for the Observer). Richie is seriously PO'd at Bill Parcells and has pulled no punches in letting us all know it. Read the columns here and here.
I'm on Richie's side regarding the Monstrous Tuna. Parcells rules this team and the Dallas media, such as it is, with an iron fist. Everyone from the assistant coaches to the writers are scared to death of him. No one gets to question anything he says or does. It makes no sense to me at all.
Parcells has never done a one-on-one interview since he's been in Dallas. No one gets any access at all. He holds a daily press conference which is a sure cure for insomnia and constipation. As Richie says, they are "circle jerks", with practically no tough questions asked, and the few that do get asked are ignored by His Massiveness.
An intrepid reporter trying to work up a unique angle is left trying to get a 15-second answer by tagging along with The Gargantuan One (along with a slew of other reporters) during a "walk-along" from the briefing room to his office. No wonder no one writes anything interesting about this team.
The assistant coaches are not allowed to speak to the media. This may be the craziest part of the whole deal. The Gigantic Tuna is the only "official" voice of the team. Oh sure, Jerry still talks, but no one has ever listened to him about football matters. Business, stadium, league, and other off-the-field subjects, yes, but never about what happens on the field. The players talk also, but they're all scared to death of Parcells, so their quotes come right out of the "Crash Davis Book of Cliches".
This is being tolerated by the public for two reasons:
1. Parcells' reputation as a "genius" and
2. The team is winning a little this year.
To give The Pear-Shaped One some credit: The move with Bledsoe has worked better than anyone (Parcells included) could have hoped. The draft class of 2005 (Spears, Ware, Canty, Barber, Petitti, etc) is looking like an all-timer. A couple of free agents (Aaron Glenn, Anthony Henry, and, of course, Bledsoe) are panning out. It's obviously not all bad news.
But comparing the Enormous Tuna to the last control freak who coached here, the Great, Spectacular, Hero-of-My-Youth Jimmy Johnson, helps illuminate just how insane Parcells really is. Jimmy was certifiable when he was here, but he was a superior judge of talent, a superior motivator, a superior game-day coach, a superior handler of assistant coaches, FAR more accessible to the media and fans, and on and on.
The Parcells schtick is wearing thin. A return to mediocrity, either in the second half of this season or in coming years (assuming he hangs out that long) will expose this situation for what it is. The emperor has no clothes.
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