He's not bulletproof

Sporting News, The, August 18, 1997 by Paul Attner

I am the owner of the Dallas Cowboys and my team has this image problem. Drugs, carousing, drinking, all-around bad behavior -- my players haven't missed many opportunities to disgrace the organization over the past few years. Not good for marketing, not good for the NFL and certainly not conducive to winning. So I want to clean up the mess. I bring in the respected Calvin Hill as a front man to lead my efforts; inspired move there. I lay down stricter rules, I install security cameras, I put bars off-limits, I make it clear past escapades that once were tolerated will no longer be given look-the-other-way treatment. And, to emphasize my seriousness, I bring in the toughest, most demanding, No-nonsense head coach I can find. That will get the players' attention.

Oops.

One glitch. I failed. Instead, I say we will be a changed organization, even though I have kept Barry Switzer around. Dallas, we have a problem.

Asking Switzer to become a disciplinarian is like thinking Sylvester Stallone would make a great Hamlet. It ain't going to work. Even before Switzer, a handgun and the police all came together last week at Dallas-Fort Worth International Airport to create yet another embarrassment for the Cowboys, owner Jerry Jones had a major obstacle he had chosen to ignore. The airport fiasco only emphasized the glaring flaw in his grand scheme.

Jone can be as assertive as his exceptional energies will allow about a newer, improved Cowboy face. But his directives are weakened by the presence of Switzer, who never has hidden his basic contempt for anyone who makes a big deal about the private lives of his players and how they fill their idle hours.

His teams at Oklahoma, particularly near the end of his star-crossed tenure, reeked from the stench created by the conduct of some of his athletes. Rape and weapons possession and cocaine dealing were only three of the more dastardly scars. By the end, before he was pressured to resign, the program was leaderless. But Switzer has never acted very remorseful about what happened. Nor about any violations of NCAA rules under his watch. His justification always has been: I have the best interest of my players at heart; or society has caused their troubles, not them; or it really wasn't as bad as the media made it out to be.

Nor did we ever hear in Dallas an outraged Switzer declaring his disgust with the obnoxious atmosphere that engulfed his Cowboys the past few years. Never once did we hear him say, enough is enough. Never were the players told to knock it off and put the team before themselves. And we never would hear any of that from him now either, not if he was allowed to think for himself.

When he talks tough this summer, it is because he knows Jones wants it that way. He has always made it clear; he is obedient, doing what his owner desires. Good ol' Barry, laid back and fancy-free. And Jones, even before the gun episode, understood what was behind Switzer's supposed changed approach. Jones denies ever directly informing Switzer he better shape up, but the owner told a Dallas newspaper recently, "I didn't go to every player on the team and say this is the way it's gonna be around here starting today, but once the word got out, they all knew they were part of it. I think you could say Barry also responded. ... What we have here is a recognition by Barry that the perception of what he's doing is more important than what he thought it was. ... But I want to stress that he read the tea leaves himself. Give him credit for having that good judgment."

So much for good judgment.

Certainly, Switzer is the last coach you would want to carry out stricter directives. His philosophy about rules centers on this uniquely out-of-touch concept: These are adults and they should know how to behave, so why should we watch over them? His hands-off bailout absolves him of any responsibility if they fail to meets his maturity test. How could I know they wouldn't be responsible enough? Even though the reality of dealing with this generation of athlete is that a laissez-faire philosophy simply doesn't work. But when he was hired to replace Jimmy Johnson following the 1993 season, Switzer's disciplinary tenets wasn't important. He served a purpose for Jones. Switzer is much less feisty, much easier going, less obsessed than his predecessor, Jimmy Johnson. He wouldn't clash with Jones, nor would he seek power. His presence allowed Jones to focus his attention on keeping together the core of his team, instead of wondering what plot his coach was concocting next.

But now Switzer no longer is an asset. The gun episode only accentuates the situation. Switzer accepted blame, sort of, then justified having possession of the weapon as a better alternative than allowing it to find its way into the hands of some youngster who were in his house. But why did Switzer's son bring the handgun into the home in the first place? And how could Switzer, in a matter of minutes, forget the gun was in his carry-on bag? Seems as though the weapon should have taken on a bit more importance. It's a chapter that should and could have been avoided, and it's the same type of foolishness that would bring wrath down upon a player for lack of responsibility.