Craig Lancaster - 600 Hours of Edward

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.