Thanks for taking my call. Unfortunately, the previous caller stole my thunder. I'm learning you gotta get up pret-ty early to beat certain blog editors (rhymes with "Killonsky") to the punch lines. I was going to point out that even though some cheesy TV-tainment show is supposedly breaking the Mike Modano-Willa Ford engagement, loyal readers of this blog aren't surprised. Well, are you?
And I was going to point that with the death of one local No. 9's Hall of Famer's bachelorhood, it only gives birth to the next: Tony Romo, please ascend to your throne. (And, if I was you, I'd bring a bottle of Resolve.) I was also going to ramble on about Romo's mad dash to pop culture iconism, except that there's no such word. I was going to mention the fact that out at Valley Ranch this week were reporters from USA Today, CNBC, ESPN The Magazine and the Chicago Tribune, all to amplify the rags-to-riches fairly tale of how an undrafted, tiny-school quarterback who didn't throw his first NFL pass until October 15 saved Bill Parcell's future and the Dallas Cowboys' present. And I was gonna ... ah-ha! One nugget I can break this morning. Or, actually re-break. Way back here I wrote about Romo's phone fascination with Johnny Cash. So take that, worm-getting early bird. --Richie Whitt
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