Night Falling on the City, Sparkling Red and Gold

If one of the greatest benefits of the human experience is that little moment where something quite unexpected happens and causes you to smile, such a moment occurred this afternoon.

While working out in the apartment complex's on-site facility, I glanced up at the television just in time to have ESPN's bottom line inform me that, and I quote, "Ochocinco reports to OTAs, expects to practice."

Then, and only then, did I remember: "Ah, yes. Only in 21st century American sports could an athlete legally change his surname from 'Johnson' to 'Ochocinco.'"

What a world, folks. What a world.

Moving Forward Through the Flaming Doors

What's the right course of action for a franchise that revels in finding new ways to rip the collective heart out of its fanbase year after year after year?

Get a new head-coach?

Stage a coup to run the owner/general manager/Skeletor out of town on a rail?
Stop bringing in players whose character would cause Charles Manson to blush?

Nope.

You start giving away training camp roster spots to reality-show winners.

The first time Michael Irvin watched "American Idol," he loved the concept of giving undiscovered singers the chance to become stars. Now Irvin is doing the same for NFL wannabes.

The Hall of Fame wide receiver is launching a reality TV show in which 12 "football neophytes" will compete for an impressive grand prize: a spot on the Dallas Cowboys' training-camp roster.

The Cowboys confirmed that one of their 80 roster spots will go to the show's winner. The NFL did not immediately return a call.

Hmmmm, the NFL didn't immediately return the call?

I wonder why?

Oh, yes. Roger Goodell is currently plotting the murders of Jerry Jones and Michael Irvin.

And It Really Didn't Have to Stop, It Just Kept On Going

Congratulations to Mr. Andrew Tuegel for correctly naming "High Speed" by Coldplay as the Tuesday Song of the Day.

I've purposefully kept the posts regarding America's Team to a minimum during the offseason, and this will probably be the only Cowboys-related post until the draft later this month, but a topic has arisen in the Valley Ranch universe that is impossible to ignore.

NFL renegade Pacman Jones, who is currently serving a suspension at the mandate of Commissioner/Sheriff/Camp Counselor Roger Goodell, is currently making major overtures to ensure that he is involved in the league next year playing for the team with one star on their helmets. The "Make It Rain" Maestro went as far as to appear yesterday on Michael Irvin's (a Hall-of-Famer who had his own ups and downs on and off the field) radio show to discuss his desire to move to the 'Boys next season.
Here's the problem: throughout the interview, Pacman acknowledged that he had made some bad decisions in the past (visiting gentleman's establishments, distributing large sums of cash at said gentlemen's establishments, and generally leaving a greater path of destruction in his wake than the tornado that destroyed Greensburg, KS*), but he also pinned some of the blame for those incidents on the police and members of the media.
I'll be one of the first people to tell you that the media in America, sports or otherwise, does not exactly do its part in portraying events accurately, and the police are not always the "good guys", but Pacman, my formerly dread-locked friend, you cannot continue to run from the likely fact that besides Michael Vick, you are the most-loathed (current/former) player in the league. Well, except for Brandon Jacobs among Cowboys fans, but that's another story for another time.

As I told the gentlemen at The Jig and Twig, I would rather that the Cowboys utilized one of their first-round draft picks (#22 or #28) on a corner (Antoine Cason, Dominique Rodgers-Cromartie, Leodis McKelvin, etc.) rather than taking on the potential locker room cancer that is the Pacman Jones experience*. I understand that given the more stringent NFL disciplinary guidelines, teams may be willing to take chances on questionable character guys by short-term, performance-clause heavy deals, but it seems that the Cowboys are ready to put together another great season in '08-09, and I don't want the locker-room to turn into another reformation project for Jerry & Co.

*Too soon for that one? Probably so.
**Never to be confused with the Alan Parsons Project or the Jimi Hendrix Experience.

He Works in the Saddle and He Sleeps in the Canyons

It may be the middle of March, but that does not mean we cannot continue to pursue America's Pastime.

Baseball?

No, my friend.

The Caption Contest, courtesy of the good folks (ahem, folk) at Running Down a Dream.

This week's photo:

My submission: "Tom, tough loss in the Super Bowl. Honestly, I still cannot believe that Manning kid beat you in the clutch. What's his name, ummmm, ah, who cares? Anyway, as I was saying...oh, Eli, hello. I had no idea you were standing there. I thought you were a cardboard cut-out. How are Peyton and Archie?

As always, place your submissions in the comments section. The Caption Contest runs through Sunday, the 23rd.

A Voice Inside My Head Said Don't Look Back, You Can Never Look Back

[Setting: Mid-town Manhattan outside of the NFL Offices]

Member of Immanuel Bible Church (Springfield, VA): Commissioner Goodell, excuse me, sir, Commissioner Goodell, excuse me.

Roger Goodell: [Turns around quickly] Yes?

Member of Immanuel Bible Church (Springfield, VA): Commissioner, on behalf of Immanuel Bible Church in Springfield, Virginia, I want to invite you to our annual Super Bowl party where you can watch the big game on a six-foot screen. Six-feet, Roger! That's larger than the sub sandwich you and Bill Belichick just polished off after discussing what to do about Spygate.

Roger Goodell: Six-foot screen, you say? Hmmmmmm.

Member of Immanuel Bible Church: Yes sir, and all the pizza you can handle.

Roger Goodell: Gee, I really appreciate the offer, but I just think I'm going to have to decline.

Member of Immanuel Bible Church: Why's that, Rog? As I said earlier, I know you love subs. We can scrap the pizza order for subs.

Roger Goodell: Well, it's not that, although I do love subs. It's just this copyright thing.

Member of Immanuel Bible Church: What copyright thing?

Roger Goodell: Well, our lawyers tell me that the NFL has a policy banning public showing of games on TV sets or screens larger than 55 inches, which puts you about 17 inches over the line.

Member of Immanuel Bible Church: Well, what about the sports bars with huuuuuge screens?

Roger Goodell: [Moves hands in same motion as Rob Schneider in Home Alone 2: Lost in New York when asking Kevin McAllister for a tip]

Member of Immanuel Bible Church: I see, Roger. No need to rub it in, dude.

Roger Goodell: Well, see you around. I've got to get out to Arizona for the game. All this time near Yankee Stadium has really been freaking me out.

"NFL Pulls Plug on Big-Screen Church Parties for Super Bowl" by Jacqueline L. Salmon of the Washington Post.

You Can't Take It With You

Perhaps it was not Shackelton's voyage to the Antarctic, and it certainly was not the FROZEN TUNDRA OF LAMBEAU FIELD, but the first annual Ninja Camping Trip this weekend to the desolate wasteland of the Cedar Ridge Campground outside Belton was by all accounts a success despite the cold.

I returned home to my comfortable abode expecting a warm welcome back to civilization, but what I received rocked me to my very core.

The madness from last week has not abated, and young Eli (Now, I'm up to 45% of Archie and Olivia's inheritance) Manning has now led to the New York (Football) Giants to that "big game" that will take place in Glendale, Arizona on February 3, 2008.

(Proper name of this "big game" removed due to a run-in with a NFL official).

The NFL can monitor me all it wants, but you know what game I'm talking about (wink, wink, nudge, nudge).

In said "big game", the New York (Football) Giants will face "The Great Satan". This game is almost like cheering a matchup between AIDS and the ebola virus. In other words, no matter who wins, we all lose.

'Cause My Peers, They Criticize Me

I saw it in passing this morning on "SportsCenter", but the Jacksonville Jaguars are still using their official website for a little psychological warfare ahead of Saturday night's clash with the Great Satan known as the New England Patriots.

Specifically, the Power Rankings section of the Jags' site features an asterisk next to the Pats' perfect, yet rarely mentioned, 16-0 record with the notation at the bottom reading very simply:

"*Cheated in one game."

I have no doubt that the webmaster for the Jags will receive a series of threatening phone calls from Joey Halbert along with people in the 508, 617, 781, and 978 area codes asking him if he thinks he is "wicked smaht" for that not so subtle jab at Brady, Belichick, and the rest of the Great Satan.

(Pictured above: A bizarre ritual that took place in Jacksonville on Tuesday where Jags fans offered the requisite 12-year old, blond male to appease the Great Satan. There was no word from Jaguars team officials on whether Jonathan Lipnicki of Jerry Maguire fame was available for sacrifice.)

About Nothing and Everything All at Once

Last night represented my initial voyage back to an NBA arena since the glory-filled day of March 3, 1996.

On that beautiful Texas spring day I witnessed what I thought was the future of the Dallas Mavericks, as represented by Jamal Mashburn, Jason Kidd and Jimmy Jackson, take on the Round Mound of Rebound himself, Charles Barkley, and the Phoenix Suns.

The game was featured as the NBC Game of the Week, but apparently that was the one week that Marv Albert chose not to appear in person and we received the backup announcing squad of Steve "Snapper" Jones and Matt Goukas. Not that I'm still bitter about it or anything, but it would have done my 12-year old ears some good to hear just one "Jamal Mashburn from the corner........YESSS!!" Would that have taken so much, NBC? It's a pressing point, but, again, I digress.

In the end, the game consisted of a win by the Suns and a tattoo-festooned Cherokee Parks running wind-sprints afterward on the Reunion Arena hardwood due to the fact that he did not see any playing time. All in all, those two points taking their place as my lasting memories might have had something to do with my almost twelve year absence from an NBA arena, but that all came to an end last night.

At approximately 4:45 yesterday I had the following conversation with the aforementioned Mason Orr.

Mason: Hey man, I was just wondering if you were in the Dallas area.

Me: Nope, I'm in Waco.

Mason: That's too bad. I've been looking someone to take this third Mavs tickets for the game with the Warriors tonight at 7:30.

Me: Is that a challenge?

Mason: What are you talking about?

Me: I've been looking for an opportunity to top the Cannonball Run I made to the Dallas area last year based on Lance Agan's impromptu pre-Super Bowl call, and you, Sir, have just laid down the gauntlet.

Mason: (Disturbed silence)

Me: I'm leaving here in 5 minutes.

For any law-enforcement authorities that might happen upon this post, no traffic regulations were broken during yesterday's journey. All signage was obeyed to the very letter. With that out of the way, on to the rest of the story...

All in all, the game was a lot of fun and represented the Mavs' largest margin of victory for the season thus far. Also, you cannot put a price on the humor that is generated through people dancing like imbeciles simply to appear on the JumboTron. People that dance like idiots for momentary glory are almost certainly the same people who buy advance tickets to Alien v. Predator: Requiem and drink Mountain Dew Code Red. In other words, the entire fanbase of the New York Yankees. I kid, I kid. Seriously though, people who dance to get on the JumboTron needed to be placed in societal re-education camps in the mold of Chairman Mao's Cultural Revolution.

Disclaimer: Any bitterness underlying this post can be directly attributed to the palpable anxiety generated by the horrid performance turned in by the Dallas Cowboys during the month of December.