So I have decided to come out of hiding. The last two weeks have been, how do I put this mildly…… 
Troublesome. Waiting eight months to watch your team play live and in person is bad enough, but the agony compounds exponentionally when you finally get to that Chrismas Morning, don your visiting team fan apparel and then head to the home team’s stadium two miles down the road, only to gasp in horror as your Top-5 Power Ranking, pre-season Super Bowl favorite team winds up derailing into an overtime cloud of dust and the only thing you can do is bury your hands in your head as the hometown faithful go whooping and hollering past you on their way to a joyous celebration of drunken euphoria. You will also soon be drinking, but it will be to wash away the heartbreak of the tragedy that just occurred on the football field. Now, if you have experien
ced something similar to thie little scenario I just described, I would like to shake your hand, since I can now say I’ve walked a mile in your shoes. Without any explicable reasoning, the Dallas Cowboys, the one true love of my life, the only team I’ve ever been faithful to, took my 24 years of fanship and happily bludgeoned it to pieces right before my eyes. My only solace was that, as a female in a jean skirt, the raucous crowds of Cardinals “diehards” were not nearly as disrespectful to me as they were to any male Cowboys supporter.
Hell.
Then it came out the next day that good ol’ Tony had busted his pinky finger in overtime. Which is phenomenal because he was on the field for exactly 3 snaps in overtime. What a complete and utter disaster. The Cowboys cost me my sanity that day.
Then, of course, they went above and beyond the call of duty to further my anguish.
Instead of say, playing, when they traveled to St. Louis to take on one of the WORST THREE teams in the league, they instead chose to have themselves a game of intrasquad dodgeball while the G.D. RAMS disenfranchised them 34-14. Really it should have been 34-7. Brad Johnson got lucky to Miles Austin near the end of hte game. After the first quarter I could only continue to watch if I mentally removed myself from the situation and acted like I was not emotionally invested in the game. Being a glutton for punishment true fan, I coudn’t actually bring myself to stop watching until the final play, but something inside of me died that day. I don’t know if I’ll ever get it back.
4-3. Romo out at least another 3 weeks. Multiple injuries on the defense that I can’t even begin to type out because I’ve already purged myself enough in this blog and I prefer not to get any more depressed about the situation.
My championship season is circling the bottom of the toilet bowl. First the Tigers. Now the Cowboys. Apparently if you have me for a fan and the most talent on paper on your team this year, expect to wind up taking a fat shit haflway through the season and then hoping for the best the rest of the way.
Somebody please, pray for a miracle on Sunday, because if we want to maintain .500 status before our bye, we absolutely have to find a unicorn and come out with a W against Tampa Bay. God knows what New York is gonna do to us next week…
