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A Rare Medium Well Done 1.9.13

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Rob Ryan, the defensive coordinator of the Dallas Cowboys, has words with an official during a game with the New England Patriots in the second half at Gillette Stadium on October 16, 2011 in Foxboro, Massachusetts. (Photo by Jim Rogash/Getty Images)

Rob Ryan, former defensive coordinator of the Dallas Cowboys, has words with an official. (Photo by Jim Rogash/Getty Images)

Noted Canadian author Doug Coupland put it best:

“Blame is just a lazy person’s way of making sense of chaos”.

And there is serious chaos at Valley Ranch. Czar Jerry has made it clear that 8-8 and no playoffs is unacceptable. So Monday the running backs coach occupied a body bag. Tuesday it was defensive coordinator Rob Ryan that swung from gallows. Only time and success will determine the validity of changes. And there are more to come. The best bet for all concerned, is become invisible and mute. The Czar is in a Rasputin mood. At this point, Jerry the owner and Jerry the general manager seem to be a cross between a petulant pirate and a renegade rapper. This death dance is more like a chainsaw ballet.

It might be a case that fingers Rob Ryan not as the problem, but certainly not the cure. Playing with a broken, fractured abrasion and gashed unit, Ryan played the hand dealt. Never seemed to make excuses or act the ‘woe is me’ scenario. Was the defense great? No. Did they make enough plays? No. Did he put players in the correct positions? Sometimes. Should he have been fired? Probably.

As a charter member of that wacky Ryan Family football tribe, Rob didn’t disappoint. Full of bravado, brashness, braggadocio, and bluster. He hit town like a cyclone. He cut a course of prodigious ego, with a hint of grandstanding. A semi-swagger with an extremely swelled head. That’s the method of the Ryan’s. But it didn’t work. Knowledge speaks, but wisdom listens. And just like his daddy and twin brother, he acted and re-acted as though he invented football. With his flowing mane and menacing growls he put on an arresting display of what is, and what will never be. Bulldozer rigidity strung between a lovers plea and a torrid fantasy. It just didn’t happen here. In the end it was frazzled pathos full of madcap theatrics.

Now Czar has alerted the town crier to behold the severed heads in the courtyard. He must now transform himself into a fly fisherman and flick over the water to see what takers he can entice. He will hire a quality defensive coordinator. The new guy will become the newest member of the multi-veined matrix that is the Cowboys’ coaching staff. Jerry’s Panglossian complex will boil over. He will navigate the choppy waters of emotion and purpose. He’ll again be torn between trust and passion. The Czar will shine like a neon light through the fog of enervating gloom. In other words, business as usual. The Super Bowls of the 90’s are not even visible in the rear-view mirrors. The Cowboys are experiencing their longest drought between championship titles. The last time they won the big game, Mark Cuban was just a mere millionaire, the large rodent (Tom Hicks) was viewed as the Rangers’ savior, and Texas Motor Speedway had yet to host a race. And the one common thread is Czar Jerry. Since then he has changed head coaches five times. And the team has been drifting listlessly. Call it arrogant zeal. Name it resilient tyranny. He has (and will forever) wave the flag of resistance. And rely on the absurdity of near misses. A spectacle without parallel. Hard-eyed and heavy-handed. A dire showdown against himself.

Rob is gone. I’m sure we will hear all about his failings as is almost always the case when Czar Jerry offs someone. Somebody new will be tempted by the perfumed inner-thigh of the Dallas Cowboys. He will inherent some really good players. But as he chooses his weapons, I suggest not only a sword, but a shield as well. A funeral glow of blustery wind will blow.

“All men make mistakes, but the wise man yields when he knows his course is wrong. A smart man repairs the evil.”

The Czar might need to read and react to that Sophocles pearl of circumspection.

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