600 Hours of Edward

by Craig Lancaster

  Given how much I like to count things, how much I like the Cowboys, and how much my father liked the Cowboys, I think I have found a new entry for my data sheets. I make the proper notations, and for now, my data is complete.

  – • –

  Since my father bought this house for me to live in eight years ago—eight years and 106 days ago—he and I have not watched as many Dallas Cowboys games together as we did before, when we lived in the same house. I should have thought to count the games we’ve watched together in those years, but the instances have been erratic, and I am not as interested in random happenings as I am in patterns. I do spend every Thanksgiving Day at my parents’ house—my mother’s house now—and the Dallas Cowboys always play on Thanksgiving, so those games would account for the majority of the games we have shared in the past eight years and 106 days.

  Dallas Cowboys games on Thanksgiving Day are a pattern, and so it should not surprise you that I do keep track of those. In the eight games that the Dallas Cowboys have played on Thanksgiving Day since my father bought this house for me to live in, the Cowboys have won four and lost four. That is a .500 record, and it’s not very good, at least for the Dallas Cowboys. I assume that even with my father now dead, I will spend the upcoming Thanksgiving Day at my parents’ house—now my mother’s house—and will see the Dallas Cowboys play the Seattle Seahawks, who stink. The Dallas Cowboys ought to win that game, although at this point it’s all conjecture. I prefer facts.

  I guess what I am saying is this: I have seen a lot of Dallas Cowboys games with my father, even when you factor in the relatively few of them in the past eight years and 106 days. It will be odd to think that he is no longer here, on the day that the Dallas Cowboys play the New York Giants, who don’t stink at all. I wish my father were here. He hated the New York Giants.

  – • –

  I take my morning newspaper—which tells me that yesterday’s high was thirty-one and yesterday’s low was nineteen—with my corn flakes, my orange juice, and my fluoxetine. The Billings Herald-Gleaner also tells me that today’s high will be forty-one and the low will be thirty-three, but that’s not as valuable to me as the first two numbers. The first two numbers are facts; the other two are just a forecast. I prefer facts.

  Judging by the Billings Herald-Gleaner, there is a lot of interest in the presidential race, which will be voted upon Tuesday, two days from today. I have not been paying a whole lot of attention to the presidential race, if you must know. Politics of any sort are hard to be interested in when you care about facts as much as I do. Presidential candidates often seem much more interested in what is known as “spin”—that is, the twisting of facts to support a position beneficial to them. This is actually praiseworthy in politics. It is considered an art form. I cannot understand that, and so rather than letting it make me crazy (a word I do not love, yet one that is accurate when I allow myself to fret about politics), I simply tune it out. I have been alive for the presidencies of seven of the forty-three presidents in this country’s history—Nixon, Ford, Carter, Reagan, Bush, Clinton, and Bush the younger—and as far as I can tell, not one of them has made much of a difference in the important things I care about: the high and low temperatures, Dragnet, Dallas Cowboys football, R.E.M., or Matthew Sweet. Although, you could make the argument that the Republican presidents inspire angrier music from R.E.M. If you wish to make that argument, I will not dispute it.

  Much of the attention on this presidential race is on a man named Barack Obama, who apparently would become the first black president in United States history—although a lot of people seem to think he is an Arab. I don’t care if he’s an Arab or if he’s black. It’s not like the forty-three white men who have been president have all been great shakes. (I love the slang term “great shakes.”)

  – • –

  Because the Dallas Cowboys’ game does not start until 2:15 p.m., I have decided to embark on a project this morning. I am going to rate the ten greatest Dallas Cowboys games I saw with my father. I think it will be fun to count something like that, and I like remembering good times with my father.

  I am not going to include Super Bowl victories among the ten greatest games. Let’s face it: The Dallas Cowboys have won five Super Bowls, and so that would take up almost half of my list right there. I wouldn’t count the Dallas Cowboys’ first Super Bowl victory, 24–3 over the Miami Dolphins in Super Bowl VI, as I was too young to have a memory of the game. I feel confident that my father watched it, as he loved the Dallas Cowboys, and because I was just a little boy, barely three years old (I was three years and seven days old on January 16, 1972, when Super Bowl VI was played), there is a good chance I was with him, but I don’t know for sure. It’s conjecture. I prefer facts.

  – • –

  After clearing away the breakfast dishes, I head into the spare bedroom and fire up the computer. My project flows quickly.

  TEN MOST MEMORABLE COWBOYS GAMES

  A memoir of football-watching with my father

  By Edward M. Stanton Jr.

  Game number 1: November 28, 1974

  Result: Dallas Cowboys, 24; Washington Redskins, 23

  What happened: Rookie quarterback Clint Longley, playing in place of the injured Roger Staubach, threw a fifty-yard touchdown pass to Drew Pearson with twenty-eight seconds remaining to beat the hated Washington Redskins and keep them from clinching a playoff berth. Clint Longley also had a thirty-five-yard touchdown pass to Billy Joe DuPree.

  Why I remember it: We watched the game in Texas, with my Grandpa Sid and Grandma Mabel. My father and I had been on a road trip together, and we had Thanksgiving dinner, and we saw the Dallas Cowboys win. This is the first game I remember watching with my father. He told me after the game, “Teddy, as long as you live, you’ll never see another one like that.” I didn’t like my old nickname, Teddy, but I didn’t mind that day.

  Game number 2: December 28, 1975

  Result: Cowboys, 17; Minnesota Vikings, 14

  What happened: This is the one that is called the “Hail Mary” game, on account of Roger Staubach’s saying that he closed his eyes and threw a prayer of a pass that Drew Pearson caught for the winning touchdown in the playoffs against the heavily favored Vikings. A lot of Vikings fans say that Drew Pearson pushed off illegally, but I think they just feel bad because they lost.

  Why I remember it: After Drew Pearson scored the touchdown, my father swept me up in his arms, put me on his shoulder, and paraded me around our living room, saying, “The Cowboys are going to the Super Bowl! The Cowboys are going to the Super Bowl!” It was just conjecture at that point—the Cowboys still had to win the NFC championship game—but he was right: The Cowboys went to the Super Bowl. I just wish they had been able to beat the Pittsburgh Steelers.

  Game number 3: January 17, 1993

  Result: Cowboys, 30; San Francisco 49ers, 20

  What happened: After a Super Bowl drought of fifteen years, the Cowboys got back in the big game by beating the hated 49ers in the muck and mud in San Francisco. The Cowboys sealed it with a long slant pass from Troy Aikman to Alvin Harper. After that, my father grabbed my shoulder and shook me and said, “That Jimmy Johnson has balls to make a call like that!” I think it was a compliment.

  Why I remember it: It took my father a long time to forgive the Cowboys and owner Jerry Jones for firing Tom Landry in 1989. But when the Cowboys got back to the Super Bowl—and especially after they won it—my father buried his grudge. “You can’t stay mad forever, Edward,” he said. I thought that was very nice of him. Also, for at least a year afterward, my father would sometimes look at me and go, “Hey, Edward, you know what? How ’bout them Cowboys!” My father could be pretty funny sometimes.

  Game number 4: January 3, 1983

  Result: Minnesota Vikings, 31; Cowboys, 27

  What happened: Tony Dorsett ran for a ninety-nine-yard touchdown on Monday Night Football. A lot of football experts think it’s one of the best runs in National Football League history.


  Why I remember it: This is one of only two Dallas Cowboys losses on my top ten, but Tony Dorsett’s run was worth it. My father and I were watching the game on television, and when Tony Dorsett got loose, my father said, “He’s gonna go all the way, Teddy! He’s gonna do it! He’s gonna do it! Oh my God, he did it!” The next day, he and I played catch with the football in our front yard, even though it was a really cold day, and my father pretended that he was Tony Dorsett running for a ninety-nine-yard touchdown.

  Game number 5: January 23, 1994

  Result: Cowboys, 38; San Francisco 49ers, 21

  What happened: For the second straight year, the Cowboys reached the Super Bowl by beating the 49ers. (They would go on to beat the Buffalo Bills in the Super Bowl for the second straight year, too.) This time, the game was at Texas Stadium. Also, Jimmy Johnson called a radio station earlier in the week and guaranteed that the Cowboys would win. “Brass balls, Edward,” my father said. “The man has brass balls.” This is also a compliment, I think.

  Why I remember it: It was the last game Grandpa Sid and Grandma Mabel ever went to, and they called us in Billings afterward to tell us about it. When my father was hanging up with Grandpa Sid, he said, “I love you, Pop.” And then he told me he loved me, too. I liked it when he would do that.

  Game number 6: January 16, 1996

  Result: Cowboys, 38; Green Bay Packers, 27

  What happened: The Cowboys, after a one-year hiatus, returned to the Super Bowl, this time under Coach Barry Switzer. They haven’t been back since. My father hated Barry Switzer. “That guy couldn’t coach a dog to lick his balls,” my father said. “How they got to the Super Bowl, I’ll never know.” My father talked about balls a lot.

  Why I remember it: As my condition was worsening, my father and I were growing apart more and more and weren’t talking as often or as nicely as we had before. When this game was over, my father said, “You’re the best football buddy I ever had, Edward.” That made me feel good.

  Game number 7: January 4, 1981

  Result: Cowboys, 30; Atlanta Falcons, 27

  What happened: The Cowboys scored twenty points in the fourth quarter in Atlanta and rallied to beat the Falcons, which allowed them to go on and play the Philadelphia Eagles in the National Football Conference championship game. They lost that one, though, which is why it isn’t on my list.

  Why I remember it: My father was despondent when Roger Staubach retired. “That’s the greatest Cowboy ever, Teddy,” he said. (That’s a subjective judgment, not a fact, but my father was never the stickler for facts that I am.) On this day, Roger Staubach’s successor, Danny White, led a comeback every bit as good as any Roger Staubach ever led. That pleased my father very much.

  Game number 8: October 27, 2002

  Result: Seattle Seahawks, 17; Cowboys, 14

  What happened: Emmitt Smith, the last of the Dallas Cowboys’ so-called “Triplets”—the other two were Troy Aikman and Michael Irvin—set the all-time National Football League rushing record with an eleven-yard run against the Seattle Seahawks. It was really neat: They stopped the game and everything to recognize Emmitt Smith’s achievement.

  Why I remember it: Much like the other loss on my top-ten list, the result didn’t matter. My father and I saw National Football League history together. “That guy’s the greatest player in Cowboys history, bar none,” my father pronounced, perhaps forgetting that he had already made that judgment for Roger Staubach. But that’s the nice thing about subjective judgment, if there is a nice thing about it: you can change your mind.

  Game number 9: September 5, 1983

  Result: Cowboys, 31; Washington Redskins, 30

  What happened: The Cowboys rallied from 23–3 down after the first half to beat the hated Washington Redskins in Washington, DC. The truth is, I could have picked ten times the Cowboys beat the Redskins as my favorite games, because I dislike the Redskins just that much. I would say hate, but I think it’s a misapplication of the word.

  Why I remember it: I didn’t see it. It was a Monday Night Football game, and because the Cowboys were losing so badly, my mother suggested that I didn’t need to stay up and see the rest of the game. The next morning, I sat down to have breakfast with my mother and father and asked how the game ended. “Oh, you know,” my father said. “About how you’d expect…They won!” I couldn’t believe it, but he said yes, the Dallas Cowboys had won, and he showed me the proof in the Billings Herald-Gleaner. It was really neat.

  Game number 10: November 22, 2007

  Result: Cowboys, 34; New York Jets, 3

  What happened: The Cowboys beat the stuffing out of the New York Jets on Thanksgiving. It really wasn’t that great a game.

  Why I remember it: Because I realize now that it’s the last game I ever saw with my father.

  Today’s Dallas Cowboys–New York Giants game definitely would not make my top-ten list, even if my father were here to see it with me. For a moment, I think it’s better that he’s not here, but that makes me feel bad. I think Dr. Buckley would say that it’s only football and that I ought to have more perspective about things. Dr. Buckley is a very logical woman.

  But even someone with perspective would say that the Cowboys are terrible today. I wish Tony Romo would hurry up and get better from his broken pinkie, because the guy who is playing in his place, Brad Johnson, cannot play very well. The New York Giants are a very good team, and I don’t know if the Dallas Cowboys could beat them even if Tony Romo was healthy—how could anyone know such a thing? But maybe if Tony Romo were playing, the Dallas Cowboys wouldn’t be trailing 21–7 at halftime, with the seven points coming only because the Giants did something uncharacteristically sloppy.

  The way the Cowboys have been playing lately, it is not much fun to pull on my blue or white Tony Romo jersey and root for them.

  – • –

  The knock on the front door comes while I am rummaging around in the freezer for that Häagen-Dazs chocolate sorbet, only to remember that I tossed it out after my father died, a decision I am now regretting. I head across the living room to the front door and peek through the spy hole.

  It is Donna Middleton. Holy shit!

  I consider backing slowly and softly away from the door and pretending that I am not here, but now Donna Middleton is saying, “I heeeeaaaar you, Edward.”

  Holy shit!

  I open the door.

  Donna Middleton is not wearing her nurse’s scrubs, even though Sunday is a day she works. She is wearing a jacket and gloves. Behind her, Kyle is sitting on the Blue Blaster.

  “Hi, Edward,” Donna says. “I’m off today. We thought you might want to come outside for a while.”

  “I—”

  “No way!” Kyle says, standing up and pointing at my chest. I look down at my white Tony Romo jersey.

  “The Cowboys suck. Denver rules.”

  “Kyle!” Donna Middleton snaps, looking over her shoulder at him. She then turns back to me. “I hate it when he says ‘sucks.’”

  “You don’t know, Kyle!” I say. “Dallas doesn’t suck. Dallas has won five Super Bowls and gone to eight. Denver hasn’t done that.”

  “Edward! You’re fighting with a little boy,” Donna says.

  “He started it by saying Dallas sucks,” I say, and then I shout again at Kyle, “Dallas doesn’t suck!”

  “He started it? Edward, he’s nine.”

  “So what? What are you doing here, anyway?”

  “We thought you might want to come out and watch the Blue Blaster, but that was obviously a bad idea.”

  “Yes, it was. I’m busy, and you shouldn’t be here.”

  Donna looks shocked, and then she looks mad. “Don’t worry about it, we’ll leave.”

  “Good.”

  “Let’s go, Kyle.” They leave, hand in hand.

  The Blue Blaster stays.

  – • –

  I sit down for the second half of the Dallas Cowboys’ game against the New York Giants, but I don�
�t really watch. What difference does it make? The Dallas Cowboys are stupid. Donna Middleton is stupid, and her stupid kid says stupid things. The whole world is stupid.

  – • –

  By 10:00, I’m still frustrated, but I decide that I’m calm enough to at least try to watch tonight’s episode of Dragnet. It’s called “The Big Bookie,” and it’s one of my favorites.

  This episode, which originally aired on April 13, 1967, is one of the few in which Officer Bill Gannon isn’t Sergeant Joe Friday’s partner. This is because the case that’s being worked is in North Hollywood, where Officer Bill Gannon apparently worked for many years, and so there is concern that he will be identified if he is working undercover.

  For this episode, Sergeant Joe Friday is paired up with Sergeant William Riddle, who is also the department’s chaplain.

  Sergeants Joe Friday and William Riddle are investigating a bookmaking operation, and they’re posing as surveyors who frequent a bar, where they try to win the confidence of the bartender, who sets up the bets. Meanwhile, Officer Bill Gannon stakes out the home office, where the bets come in.

  Eventually, the gambling ring is busted, and Sergeants Joe Friday and William Riddle take the bartender, Richard Clinger (played by Bobby Troup), to jail.

  It turns out that Richard Clinger has a little girl with a bad heart, and she dies while he is in jail. He calls Sergeants Joe Friday and William Riddle and asks if they can help him make the funeral arrangements, since he is in jail.

  He says he wants a nice service for his little girl and asks if they know anyone who can do that for him.

  Sergeant Joe Friday tells him, “We have someone,” then gives him a nice pat on the arm.

  And so it is that I am sitting here, in the living room, crying. And I cannot stop.

  – • –

  Donna:

  I wish I could tell you why I cannot speak to you. I suppose I could, but somehow, I think you would think less of me if you knew that I had signed an agreement not to. Perhaps it’s better that you just think I am mean.

  I wish I had not yelled at Kyle. You were right: That was childish, and when I tell Dr. Buckley about it, I bet she will tell me the same thing. I am not feeling very secure about the Dallas Cowboys these days, and I overreacted.