By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
By Lauren Drewes Daniels
By Anna Merlan
By Lee Escobedo
By Eric Nicholson
Merry Christmas, Terrell Owens. You're the one who hasn't once—defying your past—hinted at your quarterback being a homosexual quitter.
Merry Christmas, Tony Curtis and Paris Lenon. You're the ones who, respectively, recovered Dallas' onside kick in Buffalo and muffed Dallas' fumble in Detroit, setting up two improbable comebacks that further fueled the quarterback's legend.
Merry Christmas, Carrie Underwood, Sophia Bush and Britney Spears. You're the ones who couldn't close the deal with the bachelor, leaving him for Jessica Simpson. Check that, the last thing the Cowboys need is a pink-clad Yoko Romo. Coal in your stockings. All of ya.
Merry Christmas, Troy Aikman. You're the one who dated Lorrie Morgan and brought Faith Hill into the locker room in the early 1990s, proving this "Jessica Jinx" is nothing more than a bullshit premise hatched by Fox's TV cameras.
Merry Christmas, Chicago Bears. You're the ones who became the seventh out of the last eight Super Bowl losers to miss the playoffs the following year. Because of you, Cowboys fans will enthusiastically embrace this season as a potential one-hit wonder, rather than arrogantly trumpeting the birth of another Dallas dynasty.
Merry Christmas, Jesus, Santa or Lady Luck. Whoever's responsible, you're the one who bestowed upon us a once-in-a-generation quarterback blessed with Aikman's handsomeness, Don Meredith's humor and Roger Staubach's heroics.
Merry Christmas, Tony Romo. You're the one.
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