One of the first things I learned from my Texas-born host during my visit was that here in Texas, there are two sports that matter– Football, and spring football.
The Dallas Cowboys are revered, and yet nobody expects anything less than a final Superbowl victory, every year. No second place, nothing but the ultimate prize.
In Plano I picked up a copy of the Dallas Observer, which has been called a racy tabloid that sometimes shocks its readers. A story by Richie White about the Cowboy’s quarterback Tony Romo compared the fans experience in disappointment to that of an unsuccessful attempt to pick up a woman in a bar.
“Tony Romo is a strip club at last call. But this time, it isn’t like all those other nights when 2 am rolled around, and you were ushered out, shoulder to slumped shoulder with the other naive losers tricked into thinking that they were on the verge of winning. No, tonight the featured dancer wants you. A hand on your leg, whisper in your ear. She’s agreed to a late-night breakfast.
But under the fluorescent light of the parking lot, she’s suddenly less than hot. As she tromps to the car in baggy blue jeans and a too tight t-shirt, she clumsily spills her bag. And as she bends over to pick up her keys, she exposes love handles, bad tattoos, and stark reality. She’s on the phone, cussing her latest ex to “watch the kids a little longer.” Oh, make no mistake, she wants you. But only for a cigarette light, a jump for her Fiero’s dead battery, and that tall stack of Waffle House pancakes you promised.”
Yesterday Romo was tackled, breaking a rib, and puncturing a lung. I can only hope they have a little mercy on the guy down in Dallas this week.