With first place on the line this weekend, I thought it would be a good opportunity to revisit our dear ‘ol divisional rivals from Texas. Now, the Cowboys haven’t really been on our radar these past two years; we’ve focused most of our energy on hating our own team. To truly hate another, as they say, you must first hate yourself.
But Nmandi is gone, and Jason Babin is gator hunting somewhere in the Everglades. And if you remove Riley Cooper from the equation, this Birds team is suddenly much more likeable. Finally, we can once again channel our efforts to what really matters:
Hating the Cowboys.
And in case you have forgotten – and if you have, silly you – I’m here to offer a helping hand. A gentle nudge in the right direction.
“Pardon me, can you tell me how to hate the Cowboys again?”
Right this way, good sir.
Boniol, who didn’t miss a field goal in like seventeen years with the Cowboys, infiltrated the Eagles organization by way of free agency and torpedoed the entire kicking game. It was an egregious example of sabotage that would have made even Benedict Arnold blush. Boniol missed kicks wide left. Boniol missed kicked wide right. Boniol missed kicks short – an especially cruel form of deception for those watching at home.
“At a boot, Chris. Right down the middle. Now let’s get a three and out, defense. Hey, Wendy, can you pass the Tostitos?”
The kick is no good.
The Other Cowboys
If you take a close look at the advanced statistics, Emmitt Smith is really just a poor man’s Heath Sherman.
Dan Bailey has been Giant Gonzales for Halloween every year since 1993.
Michael Irvin couldn’t get open without pushing off.
Deion Sanders buys his suits from Lane Bryant.
Tom Landry’s hat didn’t fit his head properly.
Tony Romo’s birth name is Topanga.
Dez Bryant pre-ordered Grown Ups 2 on Blu-ray.
The only “TO” I can think of is Tim Ohlbrecht.
Bill Bates doesn’t support the troops.
Charles Haley is still lined up in the neutral zone.
Jason Whitten puts ketchup on his filet mignon. Troy Aikmen does, too.
Alvin Harper wears socks with sandals.
I don’t call Daryl Johnston, “Moose,” because I think it’s insulting to all other moose.
A little known fact about Cowboys fans is that they are unfaithful. All of ‘em. Every Cowboys fan I’ve ever met has been a cheater. Remember that girl who slept with your roommate back in college? She has a Jay Novacek shirsey that she wears to Pilates. And remember your former best friend, the one who slept with your high school sweetheart while you were volunteering at the animal shelter? Well, he ‘supposedly’ has family in Texas, but you and I both know better than that, don’t we?
There’s no loyalty with Cowboys fans. They’ll chase after any girl at the bar as long as they recently won something – a trophy, a ribbon, a game of Words with Friends, a chili cook-off, it doesn’t matter. While we were slogging through the Bubby Brister Era, admirably, and to little fanfare, Dallas fans were shopping at Marshalls; getting fitted for their Cowboys Starter jackets.
“I don’t know … what do you think, mom? Should I go up a size?”
Nobody cares about your Starter jacket, Todd.
Consider this a public service announcement, ladies. Sure, we Eagles fans have lousy facial hair, and, yeah, you have to look past the neck beards, but we’re loyal to a fault. We’re like dating a golden retriever. Besides, what’s a little neck hair between lovers? According to Match.com, 98% of marriages that involve a Cowboys fan end in divorce. The other 2% just haven’t found their spouse’s Ashley Madison profile yet. You’re better off dating a Penguins fan you met on Craigslist.
So how do Cowboys fans join the dark side? Let’s myth bust a few common reasons.
- “I have family in Texas.”
No, you don’t. You have family in Altoona. There’s a difference.
- “I like the star.”
Then become an astronomer.
- “They’re America’s Team.”
America has thirty-two teams.
- “My dad was a Cowboys fan.”
Your dad was a bandwagoner. And probably a lousy father, too.
- “My mom worked with a guy whose second cousin grew up in the same neighborhood as Roger Staubach.”
Now, who would you rather bring home to mom and dad?
“Hi, Dad. I want you to meet Todd. He works for Big Oil and never calls his grandma. He is a huge Cowboys fan. He fell in love with the Cowboys star growing up. Here, Todd, let me take your Starter jacket.”
“Hi, Mom. I want you to meet Frank. He’s a veterinarian, and works with the Big Brother Program on weekends. He is a huge Eagles fan. Here, Frank, let me take your sweet Jerome Brown road jersey.”
Oh, I don’t know. Call me old-fashioned, but this seems like an easy choice.
Someone I follow recently retweeted a Cowboys fan on twitter. The Cowboys fan asked, “Since when do people have to like the teams in the city where they grew up?” This gentleman is from Bucks County.
But, you know, he’s right. People can cheer for whatever team they’d like. Our friend from Bucks County is certainly welcome to head to The Linc on Sunday and wear his Dez Bryant jersey with pride. And then he’s more than welcome to head back to the sports complex two weeks later, when his Heat play the Sixers.
He has an aunt in Boca Raton, so it’s cool.
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