Playing Through

Illustration by Craig Staggs

Tom Landry's hat was both ultracool and dated, a description which the late Dallas Cowboys coach would silently accept. Jerry Jones' smile is bombastic, pleading. His hand reaches around to pat you on the back, and you check your wallet – twice. Now, 20 years after Jones gave Tom Landry's fedora the heave-ho, it's clear that for the Cowboys to return to the playoffs, to return to the glory days, it will take a combination of Landry's cold, well-groomed machine and Jones' gambler flash.

Who are these Cowboys circa 2008? Are they Tony Romo's all-American smile, which echoes choirboy Roger Staubach much more than the semirobotic Troy Aikman who was Jones' Landry stand-in during their last heyday in the Nineties. Or maybe aw-shucks Roy Williams, the former University of Texas receiver who's just a good ol' boy trying his best. Or is this the team of misfits and last-chancers? Adam "Pacman" Jones' one wrong move from a potential lifetime NFL ban. Tank Johnson and his penchant for guns. Terrell Owens with his mood swings (though my pal Keagy reminds us that T.O. has never broken the law, doesn't even party; he's just from another planet).

This past Sunday against Landry-era rivals the Pittsburgh Steelers on a frigid Heinz Field, the Cowboys were neither Landry's team nor Jones' yet both. With Marion Barber injured and the 'Boys' running game thus suspect, they revved up a machinelike, physical defense, stuffing the Steelers on fourth down at the goal line late in the game to preserve a 10-point lead. Meanwhile, Romo, finally without his pinkie-finger splint, fought valiantly against a Pittsburgh defense that is the best in the league, maybe the best in a decade. But four Cowboy first-half turnovers netted only three Steeler points. It was knotted at 3-3 at the half, and the third quarter was owned by Dallas. Romo was looking cocky. Rookie Tashard Choice created a ground game from scratch, eking out 88 yards on the ground and matching it with catches for 78 yards. Pacman was in on kick returns, trying his best to earn his return to the team. The old December curse seemed to have lifted from Dallas' shoulders.

But in the fourth quarter, it fell apart. Romo's third interception was the final knife thrust, turning an expected win into an aching 20-13 loss, and the 8-5 Cowboys are left trying to figure out their true identity with a scant three games remaining. T.O. whined to coaches on the sideline. Romo hung his head. Win the next three games, and a wild-card playoff spot is still very likely. Lose one, and it's a maybe. Lose more, and it's over. Again. Maybe recruit dog abuser Michael Vick as the latest talented madman savior?

The truth is victory will take the ghost of Landry: corporate precision and consistency. It will also take crazy luck and a touch of Jones' smirking win-at-all-costs attitude. Next up, at home with the New York Giants, stinging and angry after a bitch-slapping by Philadelphia, then Baltimore, then Philadelphia, to end a season of maybes.

Landry's autographed hat is on permanent display at the Old Red Museum in Dallas. Its surface is smooth, Buddha-like. Don't count it out.