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Sunday, June 15, 1997
Round 'em up, Jerry - it's time to put Michael
Irvin out to pasture
By Jim Mashek / Knight-Ridder Newspapers
An open letter to Jerry Jones, the ruler of the wretched domain
commonly known as the Dallas Cowboys:
Yo, Jerry,
Your 'Boys are at it again. Or, shall we say, The Bumbling
Cowboy who avoids trouble like Dennis Rodman avoids tattoo studios,
is back in the news.
The smear on humanity who has been getting away with lewd,
reckless behavior since the Cowboys started storing the hardware
and making routine appearances on the police blotter.
('Course, when you've got the gifted Emmitt Smith running behind
a reasonably agile band of six behemoths and Troy Aikman firing
30-yard spirals all over the field ... Hey, I think we've figured
Jimmy Johnson didn't deserve all the credit for "Putting
it All Together.")
No, Mr. Jones, you put it all together. You took the big guys
from the obscure schools, the antitheses of solid citizens such
as hulking offensive tackle Erik Williams, and chowderheads like
Michael Irvin, Clayton Holmes and the "always let 'em see
you sweat" Leon Lett ... well, hey, we all know the score.
It stinks.
And it's all been under your watch, Jerry.
Reminds me of the bumbling Nazis of Hogan's Heroes fame.
Cripes, Jerry. Get a grip. Show some guts. Show Michael Irvin
the door.
(And no, Mr. Jones, we're not talking about the door to the
notorious O'Farrell Theater in the sexual playground section of
San Francisco. The place where this latest mess began with allegations
made against Irvin of false imprisonment, kidnapping and battery.)
We're starting to suspect, Jerry, that some of these guys run
on batteries. Double-A. Just point them in the direction of a
"gentlemen's club," a pileup of one or more luxury vehicles
on the Central Expressway or, best of all, that joint we've all
heard about called "The White House."
Not the one at 1600 Pennsylvania Ave. ... (even though, well,
moving right along.) The one that was a couple of blocks from
Valley Ranch. The place Cowboys guard Nate Newton dismissed as
the domicile in which anything went - most of which we'd rather
not know about - and that it shouldn't be a big deal ... because,
you know, these are the Cowboys we're talking about.
No, Jerry, this was all supposed to be in the past. Troy Aikman
told Roy Firestone he wasn't sure he wanted to be part of the
Cowboys' future because of all the negative publicity, all the
sordid tales of indiscretion we'll gloss over for the moment.
Then Michael Irvin hops on a jet for San Francisco and allegedly
gets into a scuffle with some guy accompanied by two strippers
at a place called the 1015 Folsum Club.
("I hear that train a comin', it's comin' round the bend,
and I've been stuck in Folsum Prison, since I don't know when
...")
OK, Jerry, maybe we're getting a little ahead of ourselves
here. But Michael Irvin walked when lots of folks would have done
some serious jail time for that little cocaine bust just 15 months
or so ago. That's when Irvin, a former Cowboys tight end named
Alfredo Roberts and two "self-employed models" got into
a tight squeeze with the law in Irving, Texas.
This was just a few months, of course, after Irvin stood before
a sea of microphones and did his "Andrew Dice Clay-may-be-on-a-respirator-but-I'm-still-
spewing-random-trash" act after the Cowboys' Super Bowl victory
over Pittsburgh.
And this was just a few months before NFL commissioner Paul
Tagliabue doled out a far-too-lenient punishment, forcing Irvin
to serve a five-week suspension for "(failing to) comply
with the league's drug policy."
So perhaps, Mr. Jones, much of this should be launched in the
direction of 410 Park Ave. Mr. Tagliabue, however, might not be
inclined to return my calls. But if he has the guts you so obviously
lack, maybe he'll take Irvin out of the league and send him into
early retirement.
Idle thought: I really wish they'd get that Huntsville Prison
Rodeo thing going again.
See ya,
Samurai Jim
(c) 1997, The Sun Herald (Biloxi, Miss.). Distributed by Knight-Ridder/Tribune
Information Services.
All content copyright 1996, AP, The Abilene
Reporter-News and Reporter OnLine
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