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By Michael Lombardi Oct 20, 2020
When Cowboys owner Jerry Jones first hired Mike McCarthy, my thought was that he’d bring a sense of toughness, accountability and discipline to the Boys, as well as honesty. I thought that Jones had finally seen the light; he was finally admitting he needed a change. I felt McCarthy could tell Jones what he needed to hear, not what he wanted. Jones needs the truth, he needs to hear a different tune and, most of all, Jones needs to know his way is not working. We all treat the Cowboys and Jones like NFL royalty, yet when you examine the facts and move away from the Jones public relation machine, they have been below average the last 25 years.
I don’t care that Jones is in the Hall of Fame. That is not relevant. Jones is in the Hall for the game’s advancement, not for his understanding of the game. It’s been 25 years since the Boys have won a Super Bowl. What is even more remarkable is they have only been to the playoffs 10 times in the last 25 years and have not appeared in the NFC title game. I thought McCarthy, with his rough-and-tumble ways and straightforward personality, would be like Jimmy Malone from the classic 1987 movie “The Untouchables.” Malone was a tough guy, wouldn’t take any crap from anyone and was always willing to lay down his life for a great cause. His role was to help American Prohibition agent Eliot Ness understand what it would take to beat Al Capone. Ness was naive. His knowledge of the underworld was superficial, underestimating the lengths Capone would go to win the war. Until Malone explained the powerful truth, Ness would have never completely understood how hard it would be to send Capone to prison. McCarthy would be the Malone to Jerry Jones’ Ness as they worked together to chase a Super Bowl.
As it turns out, McCarthy is not Malone, and the Boys are still doing exactly what Jones wants to do. McCarthy is not involved in the flow and is essentially only deciding when to kick or when to punt. Why would McCarthy agree to coach the Cowboys without coaching the Cowboys? Yes, he gets paid handsomely and, yes, the Cowboys are a marquee team, but this makes no sense.
McCarthy loves running an offense. He loves calling plays. The game always ran through him operating the offense. In Green Bay, people would tell you that McCarthy was not involved with any defensive preparation, that his sole focus was the offense and making sure it ran smoothly. He sat out a year to work on his craft, to study the league and to come back fresher, newer, more revitalized than ever before. Yet now all he does is stand there, clap a little and pace. McCarthy watches his team self-destruct, allowing a second-year coordinator Kellen Moore, one of Jones’ new favorite coaches and the man who could replace McCarthy one day, call the game. Why would McCarthy agree to this? He likely could have gotten another job.
The Boys are a lucky 2-4 and still alive in the NFC East only because the East is so bad. They could easily be 1-5 if Atlanta recovers the onside kick in Week 2. The first team in the NFC East to six wins might win the crown. In fairness, the Boys have been decimated with injuries in their offensive line and to starting quarterback Dak Prescott. But injuries are not an excuse. And the Boys, despite the injuries, don’t look like a well-coached team. They have playmakers on offense, yet they don’t consistently make plays. Moore calls the game like he is playing Madden on his computer at home with no regard for being complementary to the other two phases of the Cowboys team. Moore might be a great play drawer, he might have a great sense of what plays will work, but being a great coordinator involves way more than “feel” and plays.
The best offensive minds in football know the defenses inside and out. They understand the defense’s origins so well, how it works from one call to another and how the adjustments fit. When great offensive coaches call plays, they are attacking defensive adjustments, not the basic defense. They are much like a Grand Master in chess, plotting two or three moves ahead to get the right call against the right adjustments. Watching Moore call plays is random. There is no rhyme or reason. He leaves his offensive tackles alone to block edge rushers that they cannot handle, and his protections are easily attacked, which is why free runners are coming at the quarterback. Moore was overmatched on Monday night by Cardinals defensive coordinator Vance Joseph. You could tell Joseph was licking his chops attacking the Boys offense even though he lost his best pass rusher, Chandler Jones. After the second series and before the Zeke Elliott fumbling parade, the game was never in doubt. The difference between the two coaches was obvious.
And McCarthy just watches Moore. He has 10 times more experience than Moore when it comes to offensive football, yet he gives Moore the autonomy to run what he wants — which is what Jones wants. You never see McCarthy’s lips move (through his mask) during the game to suggest a play or veto a call. You never see the old “Green Bay McCarthy” offense. All you see is Moore operating as an independent contractor, which is once again what Jones wants. McCarthy knew Moore was his play-caller, his offensive coordinator. Jones made it clear: Moore was his offensive guru. Jones was straightforward before McCarthy took the Boys gig about Moore, which baffles me as to why he would accept the job under these conditions. Why would he let Moore control what he loved controlling?
Jones learned his way of doing business from talking to former Raiders owner Al Davis. Davis was involved in everything, making every small decision. Before I went to work for Davis, an esteemed agent once told me while he picked up a legal pad. “You see this pad? Whether it’s my player or this pad, it takes the same level of approvals for either purchase. Davis has to okay everything.” And when I finally went to work for Davis, that statement proved to be correct. Now, understand, Davis had a great background in all things football. He knew the game better than anyone; he was sharp, engaged, worked hard to study the tape and was able to make football decisions. Jones does not have Davis’ background or understanding of the game. So when he sets up his organization in the Raider model, the missing link is to have a football expert help correct the mistakes. Davis wanted his head coach to call plays, to run the offense freely, so he could mingle with the defensive coaches and tinker with his passion: defensive football. Davis loved defense. He loved short-yardage defense; he loved goal-line defense; he loved every kind of defense that could impact the game.
Jones does not have this vast knowledge. Jones is what people refer to in the business world as having the Dunning-Kruger effect of management. In psychology, the Dunning-Kruger Effect is a cognitive bias. Described by social psychologists David Dunning and Justin Kruger, this bias results from successful people in one field who then believe that success without vast knowledge can extend to other endeavors. It can’t and never does. Their lack of self-awareness creates a void in evaluating their performance, leading to poor results over an extended period. After not being able to compete for a Super Bowl in 25 years, wouldn’t you think Jones would stop and say, my way isn’t working? No. Instead, he doubles down and hires a Super Bowl-winning coach and doesn’t give him any power, because he is an example of Dunning-Kruger.
Nothing will change in Dallas, no matter who coaches, until Jones decides winning his way is not as important as just winning. If 25 years of not being successful does not motivate a man who is in the latter stages of his life to change, nothing will. And for Cowboy fans, that’s a sad reality you must accept.
