The Dallas Cowboys are awful.
Their defense tackles like the stuntmen in the LaDainian Tomlinson Campbell's Soup commercials. Their secondary looks more confused than the opposing team in "Little Giants" (1994) when they faced the "Annexation of Puerto Rico." Their go-to wide receiver is a black, slightly more stable Gary Busey with 4.3 speed. Their quarterback gets to see Jessica Simpson naked every night (after that experience, football probably feels like it doesn't matter that much). He also has to talk to Jessica Simpson every night (after that experience, nothing probably feels like it matters that much). Their coach possesses George Bush's dopey incompetence and Meatloaf's legendary man-boobs. And their owner has the patience of a Ritalin toddler getting his first haircut.
As my buddy from Austin says every Sunday night, "The Cowboys are an embarrassment." They are laughably dysfunctional, inconsistent and undisciplined.
But with all that said, they are the single most dangerous team in football. That's right, those "punching bag of the NFC East" Cowboys. There is no one in the league that threatens my Giants' chances of a repeat more than this seemingly mediocre 6-4 underachiever. No one.
It's not their talent that I'm scared of. Sure, they are chock-full of superstars, and if they remember that Marion Barber is their offense, they can put up a ton of points, but that's not why they have a shot at a Super Bowl.
You see, in sports, there are many kinds of champions. There's the "well-rounded juggernaut": the valedictorian of the league that goes into the playoffs with high expectations and is simply too good to choke (see 2008 Celtics). There's the "momentum rider": the team that finishes the regular season on a tear and then rides the hot streak straight to a title (see 2001 Patriots). There's the "lucky bastards": the team that gets the right bounces during a year when the playoff crop is weak (see 2006 St. Louis Cardinals). And then there's the "reformed problem child": the team that implodes, becomes an afterthought, somehow sneaks into the playoffs and only then realizes just how good they really are (see 2008 Giants).
The Cowboys are that "problem child" champion. They really do remind me of my G-men last year (typing that made my soul hurt. It feels like I just said Voldemort aloud). We went into the season with Tom Coughlin's job in jeopardy. Our best player, Tiki Barber, was no longer in the backfield but instead on NFL talk shows bashing our franchise quarterback's leadership skills. Jeremy Shockey was hurt all year but still managed to cause trouble, and Plaxico Burress was, as usual, a constant distraction. We had more baggage than -- well, another shot at Tony's girl would be too easy.
But we went on that incredible run through Tampa, Dallas, Green Bay and New England, not in spite of all the baggage, but because of it. We were an ESPN soap opera on the brink of mutiny. We had some bad games and some truly awful ones. But we took all the bullsh-t and we grew from it. And after we almost ended the Patriots' perfect regular season in Week 17, we got past it. The baggage made us stronger. And in the end, it made us a champion.
All the Romo rumors, Pac-Man indictments, T.O. rants and Jerry Jones ultimatums might seem to hurt the Cowboys in the short run, but if they can get past them, they make Dallas that much more dangerous down the road. If they somehow pull off a couple wins like the one against Washington on Sunday, this team will start to rally. If they sneak into the playoffs and pull off a win there, then this team will start to believe. I'm officially worried.
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