This column is being delivered in a whisper. Don’t want to wake the devil, you know. The one named T.O., which sits opposite the microscopic angel on the shoulder of Terrell Eldorado Owens. Keep him slumbering and the Dallas Cowboys just might wind up in the Super Bowl. Provoke him…
My 10-year-old son: Isn’t that Barry Bonds? Me: Yep. My 10-year-old son: Didn’t he take drugs? Isn’t he a cheater? Me: Yep. My 10-year-old son: Then why is everybody cheering for him? Me: Because he…well…Hmm. Hold that thought… Don Hooton, I need your advice. Your 17-year-old son, Taylor, took steroids…
SAN ANTONIO—Yesterday a backup quarterback. Tonight the lead singer. Don Meredith serenaded a nation with “Turn Out the Lights,” Troy Aikman recorded the forgettable “Oklahoma Nights” and we can only assume Roger Staubach hummed some Pat Boone tune while saving babies from burning buildings. But Tony Romo? Never has a…
SAN ANTONIO—He was done signing autographs. Finished glad-handing fans. Complete with his first day of training camp as head coach of the Dallas Cowboys. But, refreshingly, Wade Phillips was just getting started. As Phillips jogged into The Alamodome locker room tunnel last Wednesday afternoon, a man desperate for his attention…
When Jerry Jones acts, we all react. He flies to Lubbock, and next thing you know the Texas Tech-Oklahoma State game isn’t relocating to Dallas after all. He builds a $1 billion shrine to himself under the guise of football, and next thing you know Arlington is hosting the 2011…
The Texas Rangers stink and, fittingly, general manager Jon Daniels feels like raw fish. “I put our name on the list,” Daniels says as I arrive for lunch at Las Colinas’ Blue Fish restaurant. “Should just be a few minutes.” Cool. Wait. I mean…huh? You’re telling me the Rangers’ No…
Faster. Quicker. Meaner. Stronger. Whiter? Exposed, humiliated and dismissed by the athletically superior Golden State Warriors two months ago, the Dallas Mavericks entered last week’s NBA Draft with attitudes to tweak, limitations to minimize and physicality to enhance. So to complement Dirk Nowitzki, they choose a shorter, skinnier, softer Caucasian?…
Two words you rarely associate with a billionaire who owns three professional sports teams and a $35 million home: Plastic. Cutlery. Tom Hicks may be unfathomably rich, but today the poor guy’s got a lot on his paper plate. Sure, his 29,000-square-foot spread is the most expansive and expensive in…
One of Dallas’ quarterbacks holds purses, the other holds records. One was temporarily linked to Jessica Simpson, the other eternally linked to the Milwaukee Mustangs. One makes $1,500,000, the other $100,000. Though they both toiled at small colleges before ascending to prominent positions on our local football teams, Tony Romo…
Your taxes. Your spouse. Your diet. Your résumé. Your handicap. Your death? Chances are you’ve cheated on one of them. If not, how about the time you scurried across the street instead of using the crosswalk? That day you sneaked 12 items through the 10-or-fewer grocery line? The iPod music…
You know how you know you suck? Your legacy is way worse than the guy who fired Tom Landry. I tried to help Dallas Mayor Laura Miller. No, really. Tried to give her a platform to express her personal regret/jubilation/defiance/pulse over Super Bowl XLV being played in Arlington. Made an…
Come in, come in. Have a seat, Dirk. Better yet, lie down on the couch. That’s right, you and your NBA Most Valuable Player trophy get comfy. Or at least try. Because that’s it, really, the reason I’ve summoned you here. To convince Dirk Nowitzki once and for all that…
Knock on 3-wood, I’m not going to finish this column. Because at this very second I’m closer to $1 million than ever before. Than I ever will be again. All that stands between me quitting my day job and watching eternal Seinfeld reruns is 166 yards of manicured grass. Well,…
I’ve been duped. Pickpocketed. Gutted. Turns out there isn’t a Santa Claus. The CueCat didn’t revolutionize the Internet. I’ve yet to sprout even one hair from my palm. And, worst of all, the Dallas Mavericks haven’t changed their culture. Despite tweaking coaches and role players and logos and arenas and…
Unlike Alberto Gonzales, I do recall. It’s a shameful recollection about a day I naively assumed a first marriage would last, about a moment I flippantly reduced Byron Nelson to a prop. “OK, OK, I’m gyot one!” I slurred to bleary-eyed buddies as my wedding pre-game deteriorated into an alcohol-aided…
He’s coached in the NBA Finals. Worn two Olympic gold medals. Won NFL Most Valuable Player. Been enshrined in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. And this Saturday he’ll be picked in the top 10 of the NFL Draft, twice. All, mind you, by merely playing dress-up. From rugby player…
In recognition of his continued charity work, Dallas Mavericks owner Mark Cuban was summoned to center court before last Saturday’s All-Star Celebrity Slam Jam and presented a bling-blingy diamond necklace by comedian Bill Bellamy. In T-minus two months, Cuban will be handed a far more valuable hunk of precious minerals…
SHREVEPORT, Louisiana—Signs your grand plans have gone slightly askew: You toke your way out of a job as quarterback of America’s Team, shepherded from Dallas Cowboys training camp by the notorious Bishop Terry Hornbuckle. You file a “wrongful termination” grievance against the Cowboys which, when you lose, makes nary a…
Doctors took Rudy Jaramillo’s cancer. They couldn’t touch his charisma. On a glorious spring training afternoon in Mesa, Arizona, baseball’s best hitting coach walks into Hohokam Stadium and is immediately mobbed. Chicago Cubs and former Texas Rangers slugger Alfonso Soriano, who last year hit 46 homers and 41 doubles, dances…
SURPRISE, Arizona—Sammy Sosa is dead. Not buried 6 feet under Wrigley Field on Chicago’s north side. Not ascended to hardball heaven, sipping suds and butchering classics with Harry Caray. Not over at the cryogenics lab in Scottsdale chillin’ with Ted Williams’ head. But the Sammy Sosa you remember—the one who…
Last time, I bounded down the stairs into the exclusive basement of Sipango for his going-away party. “Jay-SOWN!” I crowed, an obnoxious nod to our mutual affinity for Adam Sandler’s “Cajun Man” character on Saturday Night Live. This time, I wait for an hour in a secluded conference room at…
Memphis hasn’t lost a basketball game since Britney Spears needed a comb and Sammy Sosa needed a contract; it has the nation’s longest winning streak at 22. North Texas toils in a conference (Sun Belt) that doubles as a fanny pack worn by Florida retirees. Memphis last year came within…
