Roger Staubach is the answer when people ask why I root for the Dallas Cowboys. He won the Heisman Trophy before I was born, so I never saw him play college football outside of old highlight clips.
If you don’t remember Staubach’s first four years after college, don’t feel bad. He wasn’t playing professional football then. After graduating from the Naval Academy, he served in the military, including time in Vietnam. That was a different era from today, when top baseball prospects may skip college, basketball stars often leave after one season, and football players enter the draft as soon as they can. Staubach served his country before joining the Cowboys. Then came Tom Landry, Jethro Pugh, Mel Renfro, Bob Lilly and Cliff Harris. As a kid, I could name the whole team.
I still remember where I was when Staubach threw the famous touchdown pass to Drew Pearson to beat the Minnesota Vikings. Maybe Pearson pushed off before making the catch. I’m willing to leave that question alone.
Dallas is the only professional football team I’ve ever supported. Recently, though, I’ve wondered whether a person can spend too much of life rooting for the Cowboys. Our daughter loves the team enough to name her dog Dallas. Other relatives stopped cheering for them when Jerry Jones bought the franchise and fired Landry.
It was a terrible way to treat a legend. But the team’s long decline under Jones may be worse. Our daughter has never watched the Cowboys play in a Super Bowl—not because she missed the game, but because Dallas hasn’t reached one in more than 30 years. In that time, 25 other NFL franchises have played for a championship. The Cowboys haven’t.
If you love something and want what’s best for it, when do you finally let it go? Dallas went from winning three Super Bowls in four years and regularly contending for its division to becoming hard to watch.
The Cowboys may be the most valuable team in professional sports. They have a budget at least as large as any other NFL team, and probably larger. Yet under Jones, they’ve hit a low point. These days, the main reason to watch is to see how they’ll lose a lead or to witness a defense that seems afraid to hit anyone. For what it’s worth, tackling someone during a football game isn’t battery. The other team has agreed to that kind of contact.
This isn’t a case of Dallas simply getting unlucky in the draft. The team has drafted well. Micah Parsons practically landed in its lap. And then, of course, Dallas chose the best defensive player in football.
The Cowboys have a capable quarterback and two of the best wide receivers in the league. What they lack is an owner with a track record of building a championship team—or even one that consistently competes for one. Boston University won a national football championship about as recently as Dallas last played in a Super Bowl. The university ended its football program in 1997.
I’m too old to pick another NFL team. I don’t have another 30 years to wait for Jones to turn things around, and the team doesn’t seem to be moving in the right direction. It’s not even in the water, at this point. I’d buy the Cowboys myself, except they aren’t for sale and I don’t have $10 billion. Maybe Sean Hannity would lend it to me.
I tell young people that life goes by quickly, so they should enjoy every moment. Maybe I should tell them to watch the Cowboys instead. Time seems to move much more slowly during their games. The penalties and defensive breakdowns can feel endless.
Mr. Jones, I’ve rooted for Dallas all my life, as have many others. You’re making us wonder whether life might be too long.
