The potpourri of subjects have ranged from; criticism of Mike Holmgren’s first couple of years as a coach and GM, years spent in the bleachers of Husky Stadium, mythical islands where monkeys are removed from the Seahawks’ back, a recap of weekly match-ups, a literary crucifixion of John Marshall’s performance as a defensive coordinator, and the random telling of drug-charged jocularity or shame.
All of the articles were dripping with amateurism due to their odd pacing, criminal grammatical errors, and random subject matters. But, all such hackiness exited my work when it came time to hit on one of my favorite subjects. A subject that, more than any other, reared its head in every other piece.
It’s as if Jesus himself personally smiles upon me when it comes time to write about this. A higher power blesses me with the power of a hundred “real” writers, when this subject surfaces to forefront of my choppy thoughts. Dueling Dr. Gonzos, Peter Boyle and Benicio Del Toro, each take a shoulder to feed me insight into real journalism when it comes time to spew venom at my favorite target.
Yup, I’m a real writer when it comes time to rip the Dallas Cowboys and their fans.
My first shot at the Cowboy nation came veiled as a shot at Peter King. It came before the season even started. Here’s the assault;
How can the Seahawks be considered serious contenders when Peter King already anointed the Dallas Cowboys victorious in SBXLI?
Ah, a tough and worthy question. I mean why would you doubt Peter on this one, really?
He’s going out on such a limb by smooching up to—err—I mean proclaiming, the Cowboys as champs.
What other reasons could he possibly have for hoisting the NFL’s most marketable franchise, their newsworthy media-loving coach, the combustible WR they recently acquired, and egomaniacal owner up as the best? Hmmm, I bet it has all to do with research and little to do with gaining a foothold within the leagues top regular-season story line.
In fairness to Mr. King, Parcells is still the best coach going. They do have a good bordering on great defense, TO will be a definite impact, and Terry “She” Glenn seems to have defeated his bouts with migraines, thyroid disorders, and osteoporosis.
But one glaring weakness remains - their offensive backfield. Julius Jones is a good back, but considering he’s my body double, he won’t last a full season, sorry Pete. Drew Bledsoe’s not Drew Bledsoe anymore, Mr. King.
Lest we forget, Drew’s a man who made a Buffalo Bill offensive linemen berate him after a play, because he was sacked despite the minute and a half he had in the pocket. A feat unduplicated before or after that incident. He’s shot, done, gone, get out the forks.
To Parcells’ credit, he’s loaded up on every warm-blooded mammal over 280 pounds to compensate for Drew’s reactional-dysfunction. That was confirmed via satellite a few weeks ago. Only the Great Wall of China and Parcells’ base offense stand as man-made objects discernable from space. But even those four minutes aren’t enough for Drew to chuck the rock.
We shouldn’t be too hard on ol’ Petey on this one, though. It must be tough going from playing everyone’s favorite alcoholic, Norm on “Cheers”, to an NFL writer. Heck even Todd Bridges struggled with his fading stardom. But maybe you should stick to acting if you’re not going to research?
Besides, I bet John Ratzenberger’s itching to get back on network TV - maybe a spin-off’s in order?
Ironically, the above article got me listed on some schleps football board as “Idiot Writer of the Week” because I dared to question the greatness of Drew Bledsoe. Hmmm, how did that work out?
It took a week before the regular season started before I again, channeled the soul or a real writer, and took aim at my worthy and favorite target. Actually, the entire article centered on my consistent sparring with anything and everything Dallas Cowboys. Here’s one of my more venomous spits;
These two friends happen to be aligned with the only life forms close, in terms of depravity, to Raiders fans. The only difference between the two being: socio-economic stature, adherence to fashion decency standards, and a dwelling that isn’t on blocks or wheels. They’re Dallas Cowboys fans.
For the most part, if a fan follows a team from where they live or derive from – they’ll receive nothing but respect and jocular vocal salvos from myself. But, if you happen to inhabit a city with a team, yet you choose not to follow or root for that team, instead affiliating with a bona fide winner and perennial media “darling” - I have little or no respect for these types. Which is exactly what a good number of Cowboys fans are.
Cowboys’ faithful are comprised mostly of rubes, “bandwagoners”, and/or elitist opportunists, eager to latch on to something easy. Simply put, they’re the Cowardly Lions of NFL fans, heartlessly following what comes easiest.
Ooooh. Ouch. That had to hurt, ya’ rubes! It only hurts because it’s true.
I’ve mentioned in other articles how lovely it was when the Cowboys had a bye week. It was sublime because we didn’t have their weekly, prime time follies shoved down our psyches, ala Clockwork Orange.
And in my last article, I publicly daydreamed about getting the opportunity to dismantle “ America’s Sham” in the playoffs.
Well, guess what? What I’ve been praying three years for has finally come to fruition. On January 6 th, 2006 my beloved Seattle Seahawks will get the chance to hammer the final nail into this year’s Cowboys Super Bowl aspirations. It’ll happen here, in Seattle, under the “Saturday Night Lights”.
This is more than just a playoff game. This is more than just a chance to move onward to the Super Bowl for the Seahawks. This is a chance to quash some of the most despicable men and actions in all of professional sports. It’s so important, that as long as the Seahawks beat the Cowboys Saturday, everything else will be secondary.
Why is it that important, you ask? Here are a few reasons, aside from the aforementioned, why.
Bill Parcells’ continual yearning for media love, attention, and adoration is one of the most deplorable acts I’ve ever seen in sports. Parcells makes Paris Hilton look like J.D. Salinger when it comes to a thirst for media love. The sin of all sins is Parcells involvement in a recent Gatorade campaign.
It’s criminal enough for a current head coach to be involved in any sort of national marketing gimmick. But when the company’s slogan is “is it in you?”, and it’s a man as aesthetically dissatisfying as Bill Parcells asking question, the decision is unforgivable. I don’t think I’m alone in saying that the last thing or question I ever want to hear from Bill Parcells is “is it in you?” I hope and pray I’m never close enough to the man for him to ask that.
Then we have the easily filleted, Terrell Owens. His antics and escapades speak for themselves. Owens embodies everything wrong with sports today. Usually I steer clear of hitting on his antics, because honestly it’s easier than Brittany Spears at a single-fathers support group. Even with that, I ripped him in my last article for spitting on DeAngelo Hall. Not for the act itself, but for doing it solely to garner additional attention.
But, there’s one other incident from Owens that deserves a little commentary from yours truly. An act I may be the only one befitting, in terms of life experience and lifestyle, to comment on it. I have to ask, what kind of a man overdoses on Vicodin, either intentionally or accidentally?
I’m a small, balding, pasty, mush-bodied nothing. And I can tell you, unequivocally; there isn’t enough Vicodin at Harborview Hospital to even cause me nausea. I’m not bragging or trying to push upon you a life of poor choices, I’m just stating fact.
Mr. Owens: that, my “man”, is pathetic. What’s next? An overdose on stool softeners?
While he’s played good in a handful of games, there’s no excuse for the media’s continual worship of Tony Romo and his limited exploits. It’s as if Romo already has earned Tom Brady type accolades. Somehow he deserves to be discussed and mentioned along with former and current quarterback greats. All such nonsense coming to a ridiculous peak when Sean Salisbury was quoted as saying (I’m paraphrasing) “Matt Hasselbeck is beginning to play well, playing Tony Romo type football”.
As easy it would be to rip Romo, it’s not really his fault that the media is already erecting Stallone-esque statues of his likeness, in our front yards. It’s the media’s fault.
Any time, whatever loser kicker for the Cowboys so much as makes as much an extra point, the pundits at ESPN, FOX, and NBC scurry to place their collective heads between Parcells’ seemingly inviting bosom. Blech!
There are plenty more reasons to hate and despise the Cowboys, their fans, and everything they represent. This is only the tip of the iceberg.
All I can ask is that you do your part this week, or on Saturday, to aid in the quashing of this imminent threat to our favorite sport and beings. Spread this gospel. Create and write your own. Scream until your vocal chords rupture. Leave it all in the stands.
After all, it’s good vs. evil.
Ryan Davis writes frequently for Seahawks.NET. He has never, nor will he ever, "Cowboy Up". All compliments and complaints can be directed here.