Marty's Morning Grumble: The Cowboys Got Run Over by an 0–4 Team

Well, good morning, Cowboys fans.

Pull up a chair. Pour yourself some coffee. If you've got something stronger, I won't judge you. Although at this hour, my doctor probably would.

I've been sitting on this porch trying to figure out exactly what I watched last night.

The Tampa Bay Buccaneers came into this game with an 0–4 record. Zero wins. Four losses. A team that hadn't managed to beat anybody all season.

Naturally, they found the Dallas Cowboys.

And left with a 24–16 victory.

That loss wasn't just another disappointing Thursday night. It was the kind of performance that makes an old football fan stare into his coffee and wonder where the tackling went.

Now, I've watched enough Cowboys football to know that losing is part of the business. Even Tom Landry lost games. Jimmy Johnson lost games. Heck, Jimmy went 1–15 his first year, although at least he had the decency to look angry about it.

But there's losing, and then there's letting a winless football team come into your house and treat your defense like a suggestion.

Last night was the second kind.

Two Hundred and Forty-One Yards of Embarrassment

Let's start with the number that's been bothering me since I woke up.

241 rushing yards.

Two hundred. Forty-one.

I had to read that twice this morning because I thought somebody had accidentally included the distance from the stadium to the parking lot.

Tampa Bay didn't just run the football. They ran it like they'd discovered Dallas was charging admission to tackle somebody.

And apparently nobody paid.

Now, I remember a time when the words Doomsday Defense meant something. Bob Lilly, Lee Roy Jordan, Chuck Howley, Randy White, Harvey Martin—those fellas weren't interested in helping a running back establish his rhythm.

They were interested in establishing where he was going to land.

I'm not suggesting today's players need to be carbon copies of the old legends. The game's different. The athletes are different. The rules are different.

But I'm fairly certain the basic concept of tackling has survived every rule change since 1960.

You see the man with the ball.

You get him on the ground.

Preferably before he reaches the next ZIP code.

Maybe I'm oversimplifying things. Wouldn't be the first time.

An 0–4 Team Shouldn't Look That Comfortable

What really bothered me wasn't just the yardage.

It was how comfortable Tampa Bay looked getting it.

When a winless team starts running the football successfully, you expect the defense to get irritated. Somebody ought to take it personally.

Instead, there were stretches when the Buccaneers looked like they were conducting a leisurely Sunday afternoon tour of the Dallas defensive front.

And over here, gentlemen, you'll notice another opening. Please keep your arms and legs inside the running lane.

I've seen better resistance from the screen door on this porch.

That thing's been hanging crooked since 1998, and at least it makes some noise when somebody runs through it.

The Cowboys used to build their identity around making opponents uncomfortable. Landry's defenses were disciplined. Jimmy's defenses were fast, physical, and downright unpleasant.

Those teams weren't perfect. But you generally knew when somebody had crossed the line of scrimmage without permission.

Last night, I started wondering whether Dallas had installed a welcome mat.

About That Rookie Quarterback

And then there's Tampa Bay's rookie quarterback, Jalon Daniels.

Now, I don't begrudge a young man having a good night. If he's talented enough to play quarterback in this league, more power to him.

But the Cowboys had an opportunity to make life difficult for a rookie leading a winless team.

Instead, they helped make the evening considerably more pleasant than it needed to be.

I remember watching young quarterbacks face those old Dallas defenses. There was a certain education involved.

Sometimes the lesson was about reading coverages.

Sometimes it was about recognizing a blitz.

And sometimes Randy White provided a brief seminar on the structural integrity of the turf.

Different era, I know.

Still, I'd like to think making a young quarterback uncomfortable remains a reasonable defensive objective.

Eight Points Isn't Much, Until You Need Them

Now, before somebody accuses me of blaming everything on the defense, let's discuss the offense.

Dallas scored 16 points.

Tampa Bay scored 24.

I realize that's complicated arithmetic, but I've had two cups of coffee, and I'm feeling ambitious.

The Cowboys weren't exactly operating a scoring machine themselves. There were missed opportunities, mistakes, and enough frustration to keep the television remote in serious danger.

And that's the trouble with a game like this.

When your defense is getting pushed around, your offense has to help.

When your offense sputters, your defense has to get a stop.

When neither unit can consistently rescue the other, you get what we watched last night.

A football team with enough talent to compete but not enough execution to finish the job.

I've seen this movie before.

Several times, actually.

I didn't care much for the ending the first time, either.

Somewhere, Tom Landry Is Raising an Eyebrow

People sometimes accuse us old-timers of living in the past.

Fair enough.

I've got a few more miles on me than I'd care to admit, and I've been known to spend an entire afternoon talking about the Flex Defense to somebody who only stopped by to borrow a wrench.

But history isn't just something you remember because the uniforms looked better.

History gives you a standard.

Landry's Cowboys believed in preparation and discipline. Jimmy's Cowboys believed in speed, accountability, and making sure the other fellow regretted showing up.

Different coaches. Different personalities. Different philosophies.

But both understood something fundamental.

Talent doesn't excuse sloppy football.

You can draw up the prettiest scheme in the world. You can fill a roster with athletes who look like they were assembled in a laboratory.

But sooner or later, somebody has to block.

Somebody has to tackle.

Somebody has to protect the football.

And somebody has to look across the field at an 0–4 opponent and decide that losing to them at home is simply not acceptable.

That shouldn't require a motivational speech.

Or a PowerPoint presentation.

Or whatever they're using in meeting rooms these days.

So Where Do We Go From Here?

Well, the sun came up this morning.

The coffee's hot.

The rocking chair still works, although it's starting to make a noise suspiciously similar to my knees.

And the Cowboys still have football left to play.

I'm not ready to declare the season over. I've watched too many strange things happen in this league to start digging a grave in October.

But I am ready to say this:

Dallas needs to decide what kind of football team it wants to be.

Because you cannot keep talking about championship expectations while letting winless opponents dictate the physical terms of a game.

That isn't a championship identity.

That's a scheduling opportunity for the other team.

And if the Cowboys want people to stop comparing them unfavorably with the teams that built this franchise's reputation, there's a fairly straightforward solution.

Give us something better to compare.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a newspaper to finish, a second pot of coffee to make, and a porch railing that needs fixing.

Unlike the Cowboys' run defense, I believe I can repair that railing with a hammer and a little common sense.

I've seen better tackling at a family reunion.

At least there, somebody eventually brings potato salad.

— Marty Gaines