What it really means to be a Dallas Cowboys fan
A note on what it means to be a real Dallas Cowboys fan, despite the lack of success the past 20 years.
She stared at me as I handed her the money. Her gaze stayed on me beyond the exchange for a few moments. Finally, she averted her eyes away. She observed the currency, making sure it was all there.
As she dipped her fingers into the register to retrieve coins, in a low whisper voice she said to me:
She wasn’t staring at me after all. She was looking a few inches north of my eyes at my broken-in Dallas Cowboys cap. Oh, you’re a Cowboys fan? I asked.
The cashier cuffed several coins in her hand as she handed it over to me. Without looking back, she replied in a low tone: My whole life.
I was in Hawaii. Honolulu to be exact. Diamond Head to be even more exact. As I made my way up the side hills, embracing the heat, pulling my cap down to block the sun, I avoided a large group making their way down. I stepped to the side. I allowed them to pass. I took a small break.
Then someone shouted, Dallas Cowboys!
I confirmed his presence with a nod and few “yeahs.” I was out of breath, but trying to play it cool in front of my girlfriend. The man who shouted to the world his favorite team was rolling down the hill. I think he would have hugged me if there was no momentum under his feet.
I would have hugged him back. It’s the right thing to do.
Next: About Getting On the Dallas Cowboys Bus