Texas Stadium: A History of Memories

[Note: This story was originally written immediately following the final game at Texas Stadium. With a few changes, I felt it was still applicable following the recent implosion of the stadium. ]

I always wondered what it would be like to see a game at Texas Stadium.

The fans. The star. The iconic hole in the roof.

I imagined my emotions--my feelings of excitement and dread--in sync with those of the blue-and-white clad supporters as every ball was lofted down the field as if taking cues from the stadium itself, a director in a play. A play full of stars .

In 21 years, I had never seen a game at that famed cathedral

As a fourth-generation fan of the Dallas Cowboys, I was born into the history and tradition surrounding the franchise. I grew up hearing stories about Tom Landry, Drew Pearson, Tony Dorsett and, of course, Roger Staubach.

I listened to my dad, my grandparents, my uncles, and all the other Cowboys fans of past generations talk about what it meant to defend the star. I have a snapshot of Staubach's famous "Hail Mary" pass to Pearson in a wild-card win over the Minnesota Vikings emblazoned in my mind.

I should. We have a 10-ft. tall poster of it hanging in the family room.

Perhaps the biggest fan of all in my family was my grandmother.

A fan for years, she collected shirts and paraphernalia from nearly every generation of the Dallas Cowboys. She eventually handed the collection down to me, passing the proverbial torch to the next generation.

It's clear that I would have seen a game—any game—at Texas Stadium at some point during the last 21 years if not for the fact that my dad's job took our family to Georgia. But living five states and nearly a 1000 miles away is a bit of a deterrent.

So when we heard that Texas Stadium was nearing the end of its long and prosperous life as the home of America's Team, we decided it was time to make our pilgrimage. And what better day to do it on than the very final game, the final act in a play that has spanned 38 years and starred countless iconic personalities whose legends are immortal.

We searched for tickets and called in a few contacts for parking and all the other fun game day necessities. We packed our bags on Friday afternoon, drove 14 hrs. and 800 miles all the way to Irving, Texas stopping only for food and gas. At about 5 p.m., I got my first good look at the stadium.

Ever since I was a little kid, my favorite part about going to sporting events was walking through the tunnel to our seats. The first glimpse of a baseball diamond or the gridiron, ablaze with the hundreds of bright lights shining upon its pristine surface. The beauty and perfection of it is well known to anyone who considers themselves fans of the game.

And when I walked through the tunnel and took in, for the first time, a vision of the royal blue star at the center of the field, I literally had the breath taken out of my lungs. It was a lifetime of waiting all built up until, finally, I released my breath.

It was everything I had hoped it would be—and more.

The game started out with a bang. A DeMarcus Ware sack and forced-fumble, recovered at the opponents four yard-line. Then a Tashard Choice touchdown run. The crowd was deafening and my voice was already teetering on the edge of extinction.

Then the game slowed down. A few Baltimore Raven field goals, and little offense brought forth by the home team left the crowd a little restless. I was one of them.

Then—fireworks . It was 19-10 in favor of the visitors when Tony Romo connected with Terrell Owens for a touchdown pass to cut the deficit to two, 19-17. With three timeouts and the two-minute warning yet to come, it looked as if the script was written for yet another Dallas Cowboys comeback under God's watchful eyes. Visions of Staubach-to-Pearson danced in the heads of many a 10-gallon hat wearing Cowboys fanatic.

A disappointing defensive series, if you even want to call it a series, snatched the hearts right out of the capacity crowd. A 77-yard, Texas Stadium record-tying touchdown run by Raven running back Willis McGahee on the first play from scrimmage silenced the yee haws and boy howdys faster than an outlaw pulls a gun in a wild-west shootout.

And yet it was not over. Another Romo touchdown pass, this time to tight end Jason Witten, made it a 26-24 game with plenty of time left for some more theatrics. Unfortunately, the excitement yet again came for the visitors, an 82-yard run by Le'Ron McClain to effectively end any chance the Cowboys had of winning the game. The final running play in the history of Texas Stadium, a record-setter to give the visitors the upset.

Needless to say, I was disappointed. It was not the script that I would have written, nor the script anyone supporting the star would have wanted to see played out.

And yet that's what we got and there was nothing that I could do about it. Each of the 800 miles on the way home to Georgia hurt a little worse than the last.

I waited 21 years to see a game in that stadium and all I got was a commemorative ticket and a stupid program.

The words of my dad rang out in my head for hours.

Those Cowboys sure can break your heart, can't they?

The answer is obvious: Yes, they can. But as I sat and re-watched the postgame ceremony commemorating the history of Texas Stadium, I was struck with an overwhelming thought.

Texas Stadium isn't really about football. It's not about wins and losses, Super Bowls, and records.

Texas Stadium is about memories.

It's about relationships formed and held over a favorite football team.

You see a guy in a bar wearing a red polo and Dockers, you turn the other way and talk to your friends. You see a guy in a bar wearing jeans and a Cowboys sweatshirt, you give him a high-five and a “how 'bout them Cowboys! ”

Texas Stadium is that Cowboys fan you sat in coach with on a five-hour cross-country flight and talked football from New York to Los Angeles.

Texas Stadium is that Redskins fan who cleaned your teeth at your last dentist appointment and talked trash the whole time because you had dental tools in your mouth and were unable to come out with anything but grunts and groans in response.

Texas Stadium is the feeling of jubilation every time you hear Jimmy Johnson scream that famous phrase or you see Emmitt Smith stumbling toward history.

When I see Texas Stadium, I see Pearson and his leap of faith; I see Smith arms wide, eyes toward the heavens; I see those that have gone before us: Tom Landry and his iconic hat, Crazy Ray chanting in the front row.

I see my dad and my brother standing next to me with smiles on their faces. I see my grandparents--God rest their souls--Paw Paw sitting in his armchair watching the game on the television, Mom Mitchell standing over him hurling insults at the refs. I see every time I sat down on the couch on a Sunday afternoon with those closest to me, joined in a struggle to will our team to victory.

Texas Stadium was concrete and steel and has now been reduced to a pile of dust and rubble. But it was so much more than that. And as we move into a new act in the play, the history of the Dallas Cowboys, we have lost the physical setting of these memories, but we will never lose the memories themselves.

And maybe, just maybe, we will make some new ones in our new home and some 30 years down the road I can take my son to the final game at that stadium and sift through all the highs and lows and again appreciate everything that the Dallas Cowboys mean to me.