As I’ve been telling people on the San Antonio's First News for the last several weeks: After decades of unwavering loyalty, I am officially ceasing my fanship of the Dallas Cowboys and pledging my allegiance to the Houston Texans.
It’s been a long road to this decision—one that’s painful but necessary. There’s a saying: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. But what about being fooled for 29 years? That’s on me. Shame on me for hanging on, for hoping year after year that things would change, that somehow this franchise could overcome the mismanagement and dysfunction wrought by Jerry Jones. But it ended on Monday night, November 18th as the Houston Texans proved once again that they are Texas' team, not the Cowboys.
My love affair with the Cowboys began in my childhood, during what was a completely different era. I vividly remember sitting with my brother Greg on December 31, 1967, watching the legendary Ice Bowl. I was just a kid, but even then, something about the Cowboys captivated me. Maybe it was their resilience, their swagger, or the man in the fedora on the sidelines—Tom Landry—who exuded class and quiet brilliance. From that moment on, the Cowboys weren’t just a team to me; they became a part of my identity. They’ve been my favorite team, even above the San Antonio Spurs and my alma mater, USC.
The Tom Landry Cowboys were a team of discipline, innovation, and integrity. Landry is, and always will be, my favorite coach of all time. I can still see him, arms folded, surveying the field with that stoic demeanor, a master chess player plotting his next move. Those were teams you could believe in—teams that made you proud to be a fan.
Then came the Jimmy Johnson era, and oh, what a time to be a Cowboys fan! That team was electric. Johnson brought fire, passion, and a relentless drive to win. The Cowboys were a dynasty in the making, and for a brief moment, it felt like the glory days would last forever.
But then Jerry Jones happened. With one stroke of ego and arrogance, Jones dismantled the foundation of greatness that had been built. His insatiable need for control drove Jimmy Johnson out, and it’s been downhill ever since. Year after year, Jones has peddled hope and hype, selling the promise of a return to glory while delivering mediocrity and disappointment.
For 29 years, I’ve watched as Jones has turned this once-proud franchise into a circus. He’s the ringmaster, more interested in headlines and making huge money than Super Bowls, more focused on his own legacy as a billionaire than the legacy of the team. His con man schtick—the constant selling of “this year is our year”—has worn thin. It’s a betrayal of everything the Cowboys once stood for.
And so, I’ve reached my breaking point. I will always cherish the memories of the Tom Landry and Jimmy Johnson Cowboys. Those teams were a gift, and they’ll always hold a special place in my heart. But these current Cowboys? They’re not the Cowboys I fell in love with. They’re Jerry’s Cowboys, and I can’t root for them anymore.
So, I’m saying goodbye. Goodbye to the heartbreak, the empty promises, and the dysfunction. And hello to a fresh start with the Houston Texans. I know they’ve had their struggles, but they represent hope and the chance to build something new.
Adios, Jerry. I’m done. From now on, it’s Go Texans!