duncan228
02-25-2009, 12:31 AM
It's 20 years ago today: Jerry's sin (http://www.mysanantonio.com/sports/columnists/buck_harvey/Its_20_years_agotoday_Jerrys_sin.html)
Buck Harvey
The previous owner wanted to fire Tom Landry as early as 1987. Bum Bright told Tex Schramm that, and Schramm didn't need prompting.
Schramm had already been looking around for a replacement for Landry.
So what if Jerry Jones' timing had been different? What if Landry had been eased out a few years earlier, and Jones had stepped in with a force such as Jimmy Johnson, and he'd won three titles in four years?
Jerry Jones might not be Jerry Jones today.
As it is, Jones is celebrating his 20th anniversary as the Cowboys' boss by issuing a gag order to his employees while talking louder. He's going on a dozen years without a playoff victory, and he's sticking with Wade Phillips, and he's generally looking like he did that first day.
Jones is what's wrong with the Cowboys, right?
Looking back, there was a lot wrong with the Landry Cowboys, too. They had missed the playoffs four of the previous five seasons, and Johnson would say later he inherited no more than two or three capable starters from Landry's last roster.
Landry's 3-13 final season was more dismal than even the record suggested. His three wins were by a total of 16 points; he hadn't been far from the kind of perfection the Lions achieved this past season.
But he was still Tom Landry, the big-chinned, fedora-topped icon of America's team. And that's precisely why Jones flew to Austin 20 years ago today, with Schramm, to personally break the news to Landry.
Landry: “You didn't need to come here. This is just a publicity stunt.”
Schramm: “No, Tom. I don't think that's why Jerry came down.”
Jones: “Coach Landry, some day I hope you'll realize what great respect I have for you.”
The conversation took 10 minutes. Jones assured Landry he would get the $1 million owed him, and then Jones flew back to Dallas for a late-night press conference.
From there Jones was human. He'd scratched together $140 million to buy the Cowboys, elbowing past Lakers owner Jerry Buss and a Japanese investment group, and he was euphoric.
“This is like Christmas to me,” he announced that night. And while he had a few kind remarks directed toward Landry at the press conference, he also pumped up Johnson. Jones said the new coach would be “worth more than if we had five first-round draft choices and five Heisman Trophy winners.”
The audience groaned. Jones was an outsider from Arkansas who talked about controlling everything, including “socks and jocks.” Hands-on ownership wasn't the Cowboy way. Jones was tearing apart everything the franchise had known, beginning with Landry.
The late NFL commissioner, Pete Rozelle, would say Landry's dismissal “was like Lombardi died.” Instead of a wake, Dallas was left with Jethro Jones, cackling about “the pick of the litter” of the Cowboys cheerleaders.
“In one night Jones created a national image,” wrote a Dallas newspaper columnist at the time, “he may never live down.”
Jones would later blame himself for how he handled Landry. “If you had to give me a grade,” he said, “it would have been an F.”
Still, how could Jones have earned an A? Maybe he could have smiled less, and maybe he could have delayed signing Johnson. Maybe Jones could have counseled Landry for a few weeks, and perhaps he could have talked Landry into a less hostile exit.
But there were no signs Landry would have ever eased the transition. When the Cowboys started out 0-4 that next season, Landry was suddenly available for interviews.
Jones had turned Landry into a martyr. Landry had felt the harsh reality his players had felt for years, but he hadn't left as a losing coach. Only as a wronged one.
The success of Jones and Johnson would change the discussion, but Jones would never escape the stain of that first day. He was never seen as an owner who brought some life to a down franchise, as well as money and attention. He remained Jethro, with his successes diminished and his failures amplified.
Jones has made a lot of mistakes, and he's still making them. But his biggest mistake was arriving on Feb. 25, 1989. When a legend was still on the payroll.
Buck Harvey
The previous owner wanted to fire Tom Landry as early as 1987. Bum Bright told Tex Schramm that, and Schramm didn't need prompting.
Schramm had already been looking around for a replacement for Landry.
So what if Jerry Jones' timing had been different? What if Landry had been eased out a few years earlier, and Jones had stepped in with a force such as Jimmy Johnson, and he'd won three titles in four years?
Jerry Jones might not be Jerry Jones today.
As it is, Jones is celebrating his 20th anniversary as the Cowboys' boss by issuing a gag order to his employees while talking louder. He's going on a dozen years without a playoff victory, and he's sticking with Wade Phillips, and he's generally looking like he did that first day.
Jones is what's wrong with the Cowboys, right?
Looking back, there was a lot wrong with the Landry Cowboys, too. They had missed the playoffs four of the previous five seasons, and Johnson would say later he inherited no more than two or three capable starters from Landry's last roster.
Landry's 3-13 final season was more dismal than even the record suggested. His three wins were by a total of 16 points; he hadn't been far from the kind of perfection the Lions achieved this past season.
But he was still Tom Landry, the big-chinned, fedora-topped icon of America's team. And that's precisely why Jones flew to Austin 20 years ago today, with Schramm, to personally break the news to Landry.
Landry: “You didn't need to come here. This is just a publicity stunt.”
Schramm: “No, Tom. I don't think that's why Jerry came down.”
Jones: “Coach Landry, some day I hope you'll realize what great respect I have for you.”
The conversation took 10 minutes. Jones assured Landry he would get the $1 million owed him, and then Jones flew back to Dallas for a late-night press conference.
From there Jones was human. He'd scratched together $140 million to buy the Cowboys, elbowing past Lakers owner Jerry Buss and a Japanese investment group, and he was euphoric.
“This is like Christmas to me,” he announced that night. And while he had a few kind remarks directed toward Landry at the press conference, he also pumped up Johnson. Jones said the new coach would be “worth more than if we had five first-round draft choices and five Heisman Trophy winners.”
The audience groaned. Jones was an outsider from Arkansas who talked about controlling everything, including “socks and jocks.” Hands-on ownership wasn't the Cowboy way. Jones was tearing apart everything the franchise had known, beginning with Landry.
The late NFL commissioner, Pete Rozelle, would say Landry's dismissal “was like Lombardi died.” Instead of a wake, Dallas was left with Jethro Jones, cackling about “the pick of the litter” of the Cowboys cheerleaders.
“In one night Jones created a national image,” wrote a Dallas newspaper columnist at the time, “he may never live down.”
Jones would later blame himself for how he handled Landry. “If you had to give me a grade,” he said, “it would have been an F.”
Still, how could Jones have earned an A? Maybe he could have smiled less, and maybe he could have delayed signing Johnson. Maybe Jones could have counseled Landry for a few weeks, and perhaps he could have talked Landry into a less hostile exit.
But there were no signs Landry would have ever eased the transition. When the Cowboys started out 0-4 that next season, Landry was suddenly available for interviews.
Jones had turned Landry into a martyr. Landry had felt the harsh reality his players had felt for years, but he hadn't left as a losing coach. Only as a wronged one.
The success of Jones and Johnson would change the discussion, but Jones would never escape the stain of that first day. He was never seen as an owner who brought some life to a down franchise, as well as money and attention. He remained Jethro, with his successes diminished and his failures amplified.
Jones has made a lot of mistakes, and he's still making them. But his biggest mistake was arriving on Feb. 25, 1989. When a legend was still on the payroll.