I'm proud to report that my psyche no longer hangs in the balance every time the Cowboys play. Back in the old days, if they played at night, I wouldn't be able to sleep - either too excited or too bummed out - depending on the scoreboard.
In fact I went through a phase when I scarcely noticed them. That was during those years when nearly all the starters had a rap sheet. But then, I gradually came back as the punks were exorcised from the roster.
And now there's T.O. Most of you know (I'm sure Carole doesn't, however) who he is. He is the poster boy for all that's wrong with pro sports. He is the epitome of loud, flashy, bling-bling, me-first kind of athletes that got too much money too soon and thus have an ego the size of the Ogallala Aquifer.
But he has promised that he will not be a bad boy anymore. No more sniping at his quarterback or calling him a "queer". No more yelping to the press about how few passes are coming his way. Model citizen stuff.
Should I be suckered in? After all, he is very good at what he does. He will help the Cowboys' attack immeasurably. Can a leopard change his spots? Should I rejoice when T.O. scores his first Cowboy T.D.?
Or should I just concentrate on doing the NYTimes crossword every Sunday and not give this guy any of the attention he craves?
2 comments:
As long as he doesn't do anything to the Dallas Star's star, I'm okay with him.
Carole: May a camel with hygiene issues sit on your lap.
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