I don’t cry too often.
The only time I cried was after a spanking, when I got married, after my son was christened, and after an uncle I was close to took his own life. I think I may have shed a couple of tears after my grandmother passed a few years ago (I still miss her).
Then came this moment:
People who know me well know how much I hate the Dallas Cowboys. I despise that goddamned blue star. But I was moved watching former coach Jimmy Johnson get surprised with the news of his induction in the 2020 class of the Pro Football Hall of Fame. In fact, every time I re-watched it, I’d be moved to tears.
Johnson’s induction into the Hall was well deserved.
He was the architect behind the Cowboys’ dynasty of the 90s. Back-to-back Super Bowl wins in 1992 and 1993. Back-to-back blowouts. And Dallas was SO young (the oldest player on the his last Super Bowl team was 27 — Michael Irving), it was just getting started.
Dallas was primed to win more championships. In fact, the Cowboys could have run off at least four or five Super Bowl championships in the 90s alone. The New England Patriots as we know it could not hold a candle to to the Cowboys dynasty.
But we all knew what happened: owner/general manager Jerry Jones wanted as much as the credit for those Super Bowl teams, and fired Johnson as a result. And save for beating my Steelers in 1996, the Cowboys haven’t won shit since.
In fact, I agree with Troy Aikman when he said in an Instagram post that Johnson should have been the first to have been enshrined in the Hall of Fame. I tend to agree.
Nevertheless, Johnson is where he belongs — in Canton.