Z-Mail: Cowboys fans sound off and what life's like without ol' Redhead
What is it about the Cowboys that seems to capture so many people's fancy? Capture so many fancy people? Fancy capturing so many people! I mean, is it the arrival of rodeo season or what? Personally I find it kind of a rich boys' team with an apathetic fan base.
I mean, I've gone through the stands there, as a sociological project, to find out how many working people attend their games. Doing the research wasn't easy. I'd stop and ask a person, "Do you work?" wouldn't get a reply and would move on to someone else. Actually, I got one response. I asked this gentleman, "Do you work?" and without looking at me he said, "I'll call Security." This puzzled me because I am not familiar with the gentleman he named. At any rate, sociology is not a meaningful study in Texas Stadium.
But here it is! You bet. Just listen to these folks all
Here's one from
Tell ya what, James. I'm gonna make you my E-mailer of the Week, just for the kibbitz of it, or maybe I have to since I used your last name already. Or maybe it's because that game brought back so many happy memories...of
• Gosh, I'm having such a good time doing this Mailbag that I simply must turn to a mournful dirge of a letter submitted by
Bret, I'm going to tell you something about yourself that will amaze my readers. You, yourself, are a graduate of that fine institution, are you not? Nobody outside those hollowed walls of ivory calls the Journalism School the J-School unless he went there. I did. So did everybody else. Admit it, I have flushed you out, right?
Now to answer your (tee-hee) question. I enjoy doing the Mailbag, as long as they don't cut off my quota of risqué woids I can use. Editors don't come around here because the house is booby trapped. It's been at least three weeks since anyone threatened to fire me. Now that the
La Flamboyante Rousse is not present, but you should see what SHE brings into the house. Just kidding, honey, wherever you are. I didn't mean it. Just working the crowd for laughs. When present, she is perched nearby while I write, that's the Redhead, not Jake, occasionally dropping over to check the nonsense and offer salient points. So anyway, Bret old sport, does that answer your, ahem, question?
• "You are one crafty old dog, Z," is the lead sentence from
"Because, that's why." I used to fly into an uncontrollable rage when, as a child, I would receive that answer from an adult. I take it back, Jon. Fins! Fingers crossed. I had them at 24th and had gotten blistered for ranking them so low. I felt bad about it. Then the Ravens beat them. So I raised the Ravens two spots. But what to do about poor Cleveland? Ready to take the descent into the maelstrom was Jacksonville, whom I had way too high to begin with, who had just lost to winless Cincy, and earlier in the year had lost to Cleveland. Jacksonville was going to pay dearly, and I already had assigned a slot below the Browns, wherever that might fall.
The Rams were another team that went into the weekend ahead of the Browns, and they got trashed by Arizona. So they were destined for something below Cleveland. Add to that the usual denizens of darkness and you've got the Browns, slowly rising like a bubble in the bathtub. No, there was no crafty, ulterior motive involved. It was just the way it worked out.
No. I'm not a big beer drinker, although I'll have one occasionally. Haven't been since college. Actually don't do much in the way of alcohol at all when there's no one to share it with. The sink's not full of dishes because I do quickie foods, a steak, a chop or two, some greens, although I must admit that I celebrated
Bookies at the door? Nope. I handicap the games but I don't bet 'em. That's all I'd need...for my employers at
No, I don't think that's happening. Plax doesn't lean on QB's the way Shock tried to. I don't think the guys on the team would let that happen. So what's the reason, then, once we assume that his game has been off? The kid's a streak thrower. He's not naturally accurate. I think it's as simple as that.
Nice country Wales. Linda and I spent some time up at the great book marketplace at Hay on Wye. I also played on an American side that held Bridgend to a 0-0 tie. OK, it wasn't the good Bridgend team, with the internationals and everything. It was the Bridgend Sports Club. But I'll tell you what they could really do. Sing. I guess everybody in Wales is blessed that way.
The night before the match, when the two teams had the traditional sing-song, us against them, we tootled those dopey little rugby songs, "If I were the marrying kind...well, thank the Lord I'm not sir..."you know those trashy little things. They let that sink in and then they mortally embarrassed us with a collection of Welsh hymns that tore the roof off the place. I mean, every damn one of them was singing his or her head off. Talk about embarrassment. And it's into the beer we go, m'lads.