The California Diary: The Dallas Cowboys and me


Before I begin, I must come clean: I put this team on the shelf a few years ago because I was tired of watching them play like a soiled-diaper baby rolling his boogers between his thumb and index finger.

I have still kept watch, but losses wouldn’t hurt me as much. Trades, injuries, bad drafts, none of it chapped my hide like it used to. I grew accustomed to it.


But the move here, and their recent winning ways, have brought my Troy Aikman jersey from out of the dungeon of forgotten sports apparel. I’ve worn it just about every week since Week 2 of the 2014 NFL season. For the exception of Tony Romo getting hurt, it’s worked well.

Today I ventured out in public to root for America’s Team (no matter how much you might hate the christening, they are the most popular American sports team, so pipe down), and I can’t believe that I found even more Cowboys fans in the middle of California.

I went to a game in early September in Nashville, and was surprised to see a sea of blue there. Granted, it wasn’t a sea of blue here, but there was enough to potentially lobby for the main television to be switched to the Cowboys game (we didn’t see any 49ers apparel at the time).

We chatted, fist bumped, and clapped whenever the fortunes turned against the 49ers against New Orleans. It was kind of nice to be a little loud in public about the Dallas Cowboys. It might be even nicer the next time, and the next, and the next.


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