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Wednesday, July 16, 1997

Aloof Cowboys stars finally show friendly side

By Frank Luksa

The Dallas Morning News

(KRT)

DALLAS - Jay Novacek and Charles Haley retired from the NFL on Tuesday during a scene of immense amusement to everyone involved. Most of the onlooking crowd included all the people Novacek and Haley avoided or stiffed during their Cowboys careers.

I refer to the print-radio-TV gang summoned to pay homage to the departing shadows of the tight end and defensive end, and to thank them for bringing much joy to the franchise and sunshine to our lives. Also to report in rapt detail what wonderful players they were, which indeed was true and can't be ignored.

That doesn't mean it was a peachy task to deal with either of them. Haley had the disposition of a tarantula. Novacek bore the aloof disdain of a sphinx.

It was a treat to watch them play. But for unpleasant duty, asking either for two minutes of chat time ranked with trying to chop cotton with a broomstick. One might reply with a curse, the other with a stony stare.

Hence a perverse undertow ebbed through the Novacek-Haley retirement press conference at Texas Stadium. They were agreeable to media attention. They would answer simple, innocent questions. If anyone wished to fawn or shed a tear that we shall never see their like again, they would sit still for that, too.

At least both recognized the sham of being co-featured at a media event. It was the same as hosting a party where the only invited guests were people you don't like. Then continuing the flim-flam by acting out of character, which is to say cordial and civil.

Well, almost.

"Unfortunately, I still have to talk to you media another day," were the first words out of Novacek's mouth. He might have meant it as a weak joke. Prior experience leads me to think he meant it, and that's okay with me since this would be the last day.

Haley semi-apologized for being a perpetual porcupine. He cited the rough experience as a youth who lacked positive reinforcement as a reason he evolved into an adult who vented anger on peripheral camp followers.

"I had a chip on my shoulder because of my background," Haley had the grace to say. "I ask the media here to excuse me for my chip."

Nor was Haley a cup of tea to coach. San Francisco traded him to the Cowboys in 1992 because of insubordination. While insisting Haley really was a playful kitten, Barry Switzer made jesting reference to working with Charles.

"I couldn't coach two Charles Haleys," he said. "The coach at San Francisco (George Seifert) couldn't even coach one."

More out-of-character moments unfolded. Novacek made several stabs at wry humor and almost reached a genuine punch line. His best try came when asked for the secret of getting open to catch passes.

Novacek listed everyone else on offense ... Troy, Emmitt, Michael, Daryl, offensive line ... and concluded defenses paid him scant notice through low priority: "There were a lot more dangerous people out there."

Haley never has been associated with eloquence unless it was in tribute to absolute command of unbecoming language. Yet he made the most moving remark of the day. It had nothing to do with a game he played, a sack he made or the NFL-record five Super Bowls he helped San Francisco and Dallas to win.

He spoke of a troubled teammate, defensive tackle Leon Lett, who begins the 1997 season under suspension by the NFL for substance-abuse violations.

"The saddest thing today is that Leon Lett is not with us," Haley noted. "I ask you to be forgiving when he comes back on the field."

Even Haley cracked wise when he told of his rookie encounter with a headbutt from Los Angeles Rams' offensive tackle Jackie Slater. Haley said Slater hit him so hard, "I saw Jesus."

So Haley can laugh. Novacek can talk. These traits were well-concealed during their time here. But it was too late for an image makeover.

Protesting to the end that he's melted butter inside, Haley left a brooding, sullen persona as part of his legacy. Novacek departed as a relative ghost who had a benign personality or none whatsoever. Their leave-taking ceremony did go well despite the necessity of mingling with unwashed and unwanted newsfolks.

In departing briefly from long-established norm, Haley and Novacek reminded of one of sport's oldest cliches: "Why do they learn to say 'hello' when it's time to say 'goodbye?' "

(Frank Luksa is a sports columnist for the Dallas Morning News. Write to him at: Dallas Morning News, Communications Center, Dallas, Texas 75265.)

(c) 1997, The Dallas Morning News.

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