Have we all had a chance to digest last night's debacle? Have we all come to grips with Seahawks 21 - Cowboys 20?
This one was so bizarre, so unexpected, so wrenching, that I'm actually feeling sorta bad for the Cowboys and the sheep today. I can't even work up a whole lot of bile.
The Cowboys gutted up, put the past few weeks of utter foolishness behind them, and played hard. They didn't quit, and that's worth mentioning.
But, even still, this game was there for the taking. Seattle tried hard to give it up. It's just the Cowboys tried even harder.
Where were your marquee players? TO Owens - contributed NOTHING. Terry Glenn - contributed two points to the other guys. Romo - I can't kick the guy when he's down. You know what he contributed.
And the D? They looked OK against a fairly lame Seahawks team that just didn't seem to want it much either. But they couldn't make the big stop when they had to, once again couldn't make a play at the crucial time.
And, thus, it ends.
Folks, this was a mercy killing. You, the sheep, now get to go on with your lives, no longer hostage to the false promise that was the 2006 Dallas Cowboys. This team has teased you for six months with shadowy illusions of glory, only to reward your loyalty with ashes. What right did Bondo Face have to hold your world in suspended animation for even one week longer? 'Cuz, you know as well as I do, this team was not getting anywhere near the Lombardi Trophy this year.
If that's the case, let's spare ourselves the drama, shall we? Now, we're free to pull for some of the other great stories out there.
The fascist Pats are ramping up the assembly line, ready to manufacture wins out of the ground-up body parts of their injury list.
Coach Fran's own, personal Jesus, LaDanian Tomlinson (seriously, Fran should be giving LT 10% of everything he's earned from Alabama and A&M) looks like the one guy who can carry a team to the Promised Land.
Peyton Manning overcame his own chokishness to live at least one more week.
Can Rex Grossman sacrifice enough chickens to voodoo his way into the NFC Championship or even beyond?
Can Jeff Garcia continue to ride the rainbow to ultimate fulfillment?
We'll find out the answers to all of this, and without the unnecessary clutter of false, undeserved Cowboy hopes. Thank God.
So, now it's down to Valley Ranch mini-dramas like, will the Pear Shaped Football Genius return to glare at us all dourly and remind us constantly of the feebleness of our sports brains? Will TO Owens return to throw yet another ego-fest birthday party, and to perhaps complete his unfinished task of killing himself? I'm sure there are other questions about, but these are the two we'll be beaten into submission with.
My own hope is that, come next Aug, both are history. But I anticipate both will, instead, be back to further my descent into Darkness.
Ah well, until then, continue to give in to your feelings, young Jedi.
This one was so bizarre, so unexpected, so wrenching, that I'm actually feeling sorta bad for the Cowboys and the sheep today. I can't even work up a whole lot of bile.
The Cowboys gutted up, put the past few weeks of utter foolishness behind them, and played hard. They didn't quit, and that's worth mentioning.
But, even still, this game was there for the taking. Seattle tried hard to give it up. It's just the Cowboys tried even harder.
Where were your marquee players? TO Owens - contributed NOTHING. Terry Glenn - contributed two points to the other guys. Romo - I can't kick the guy when he's down. You know what he contributed.
And the D? They looked OK against a fairly lame Seahawks team that just didn't seem to want it much either. But they couldn't make the big stop when they had to, once again couldn't make a play at the crucial time.
And, thus, it ends.
Folks, this was a mercy killing. You, the sheep, now get to go on with your lives, no longer hostage to the false promise that was the 2006 Dallas Cowboys. This team has teased you for six months with shadowy illusions of glory, only to reward your loyalty with ashes. What right did Bondo Face have to hold your world in suspended animation for even one week longer? 'Cuz, you know as well as I do, this team was not getting anywhere near the Lombardi Trophy this year.
If that's the case, let's spare ourselves the drama, shall we? Now, we're free to pull for some of the other great stories out there.
The fascist Pats are ramping up the assembly line, ready to manufacture wins out of the ground-up body parts of their injury list.
Coach Fran's own, personal Jesus, LaDanian Tomlinson (seriously, Fran should be giving LT 10% of everything he's earned from Alabama and A&M) looks like the one guy who can carry a team to the Promised Land.
Peyton Manning overcame his own chokishness to live at least one more week.
Can Rex Grossman sacrifice enough chickens to voodoo his way into the NFC Championship or even beyond?
Can Jeff Garcia continue to ride the rainbow to ultimate fulfillment?
We'll find out the answers to all of this, and without the unnecessary clutter of false, undeserved Cowboy hopes. Thank God.
So, now it's down to Valley Ranch mini-dramas like, will the Pear Shaped Football Genius return to glare at us all dourly and remind us constantly of the feebleness of our sports brains? Will TO Owens return to throw yet another ego-fest birthday party, and to perhaps complete his unfinished task of killing himself? I'm sure there are other questions about, but these are the two we'll be beaten into submission with.
My own hope is that, come next Aug, both are history. But I anticipate both will, instead, be back to further my descent into Darkness.
Ah well, until then, continue to give in to your feelings, young Jedi.
1 comment:
These eyes they grieve in pity for my heart. I have known the suffering of every tear utterly undone they fall. Will they remember the words I spoke? My gentle heart goes willingly with her, but I must remain here. Weeping, I then will speak of her again, and again, who to her heaven came so suddenly, leaving Love grieving here on earth with me...
To the high heaven she has gone, up to the realm where Angels dwell in peace, she lives with them now. To this world she bade farewell. Tis no degree of cold on her has won, nor of such heat as makes all others cease: it only was her goodness, great appeal. So did her shining humbleness excel, it passed the heavens with such wondrous worth, it moved to marvel the eternal Sire, so that a sweet desire pricked Him to call such worthiness from earth, and made her to himself go from down here: for when He saw this life of suffering had not been made for such a gentle thing...
Her gentle spirit, full of gentle grace, at last departed from her beauteous frame, and chose in glory its most worthy home. He who weeps not, {Mark David Breakiron} when talking of her trace, harbors a heart of wickedness and shame, to which no kindly spirits ever shall come.
No mind, if heart is wicked, may so roam as to imagine in the least her lot: therefore no grief or weeping will transpire. But sadness and desire of tears and sighs and death, and every thought that fails to comfort for a loss of immense, conquer those souls that even once recall the thing she was, now taken from us all...
Ahhhhhhhhh so much anguish nearly halts my breath when the least thought to this comes in my grievous mind brings back the one who split my heart in me; and oftentimes, when thinking of her death the color from my face fades utterly. And when the imagining is sharp in me, from everywhere I'm struck by such dismay that at the ache I feel right then I start to cry, and so distraught it grows. Fore it is then that I am alone in every crowd.
I wander in my tears....
For a face that looks like mine.
Angel Feathers Tickle Me
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