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Terry Bradshaw
I recently watched the chic-flick Failure to Launch with my wife and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
galinda822 during Movie Night. It wasn't a bad chic-flick. And I enjoyed watching Terry Bradshaw. I like Terry Bradshaw. But this was not always the case...
The Dallas Cowboys is America's Team. More people know the face of Tom Landry than they do of our own President, even in other countries. Long before our team was known for being in the slammer more than on the field, we played ball. Good ball. Football. We've made more Super Bowl appearances than any other team.
During my youth there were always two teams that would give us pause: The Philadelphia Eagles, and the Pittsburgh Steelers. This was back in the day when Roger Staubach, Number 12, quarterbacked for the Cowboys, and he was every kids hero. I was no exception. We were always nervous on game day, and during those late 70's, we always seemed to be going head-to-head with Pittsburgh. They'd snatched more than one Super Bowl win from us during the Big Game. Roger Staubach vs. Terry Brandshaw. He was everything my hero wasn't - uncouth, rude, loud, and had a mouth like a sailor. The antithesis of America's Team's Golden Boy! (Even daring to also wear the Number 12!)
My mother had heard a sermon on calling down righteous curses on people in this day and age by a young pastor. As is usual in sermons like this, every one heard something a little different. My mother thought on this long and hard. Then one day, during half-time, here comes Terry Bradshaw. I remember well his sweaty golden hair, missing teeth, and the black pit of death under his eyes. He even looked like a demon to me. And there he was cursing up a storm on National Television, and worse, using our Lord's name in vain. My mother had had enough! She called down a curse on this man to "Put a stop to his evil ways." This was probably 1978. He was injured and set out the rest of the game. My mother felt that she had been vindicated.
Of course when she relayed this story, she was highly chastised by her friends for this move, who heard the sermon in a different way.
Fast forward to 1986. My mother is in John Deer's Saginaw Implement store in Rhome, TX. She's having a bad hair day, feels like crap, and has to pick up a part for my father. She walks in and is surrounded by a bunch of cowboys. She HATES being the only woman in a place like this. She sits to wait for her part, and in walks...Terry Bradshaw (he has a small ranch out near us in Westlake, TX). He looks over at her, but she's so embarrassed at the stunt she pulled in 1978, she can't make eye contact with him! To add fuel to the fire, he's recently retired, and been depressed. He carries on with the other men about the extent of his injuries.
My mother quickly takes receipt of her part, and leaves.
galinda822 during Movie Night. It wasn't a bad chic-flick. And I enjoyed watching Terry Bradshaw. I like Terry Bradshaw. But this was not always the case...The Dallas Cowboys is America's Team. More people know the face of Tom Landry than they do of our own President, even in other countries. Long before our team was known for being in the slammer more than on the field, we played ball. Good ball. Football. We've made more Super Bowl appearances than any other team.
During my youth there were always two teams that would give us pause: The Philadelphia Eagles, and the Pittsburgh Steelers. This was back in the day when Roger Staubach, Number 12, quarterbacked for the Cowboys, and he was every kids hero. I was no exception. We were always nervous on game day, and during those late 70's, we always seemed to be going head-to-head with Pittsburgh. They'd snatched more than one Super Bowl win from us during the Big Game. Roger Staubach vs. Terry Brandshaw. He was everything my hero wasn't - uncouth, rude, loud, and had a mouth like a sailor. The antithesis of America's Team's Golden Boy! (Even daring to also wear the Number 12!)
My mother had heard a sermon on calling down righteous curses on people in this day and age by a young pastor. As is usual in sermons like this, every one heard something a little different. My mother thought on this long and hard. Then one day, during half-time, here comes Terry Bradshaw. I remember well his sweaty golden hair, missing teeth, and the black pit of death under his eyes. He even looked like a demon to me. And there he was cursing up a storm on National Television, and worse, using our Lord's name in vain. My mother had had enough! She called down a curse on this man to "Put a stop to his evil ways." This was probably 1978. He was injured and set out the rest of the game. My mother felt that she had been vindicated.
Of course when she relayed this story, she was highly chastised by her friends for this move, who heard the sermon in a different way.
Fast forward to 1986. My mother is in John Deer's Saginaw Implement store in Rhome, TX. She's having a bad hair day, feels like crap, and has to pick up a part for my father. She walks in and is surrounded by a bunch of cowboys. She HATES being the only woman in a place like this. She sits to wait for her part, and in walks...Terry Bradshaw (he has a small ranch out near us in Westlake, TX). He looks over at her, but she's so embarrassed at the stunt she pulled in 1978, she can't make eye contact with him! To add fuel to the fire, he's recently retired, and been depressed. He carries on with the other men about the extent of his injuries.
My mother quickly takes receipt of her part, and leaves.
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Jagshemash - "how are you?" (from the Polish "Jak się masz?" or from "Yakshimusiz", a greeting in many Central Asian languages including the Kazakh language), sometimes used as a greeting
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