I believe in the Dallas Cowboys. And in my favorite cousin Edward Lewis, the fanatic who started my family’s obsession with the team.
Edward was just a mere four years old when he began to develop a love for the Dallas Cowboys. With a die-hard San Francisco 49ers fan as a father, Eddie was taught to root for his dad’s favorite team, but being the hardhead that I know and love, he quickly rebelled against his father’s plans. The 49ers and the Cowboys were bitter rivals, and to spite his dad, Eddie began to take an interest in the Cowboys. He gravitated toward the “cool” star on the players’ helmets, and from that life changing moment, a fan was born. It has been an on-going love affair ever since.
My immediate family, my grandparents, and Eddie’s family all live within a three-mile radius of one another. As a result, we were constantly together growing up. Every Thanksgiving, Christmas, and birthday was spent with each other. But it is not the great mashed potatoes that my aunt made on Thanksgiving or the Barbie doll my cousins gave me for Christmas that I remember the most—it is Sundays.
Sunday, according to the Bible, is supposed to be the “day of rest”; however, in my family, it was considered the “day of restlessness”. Sundays weren’t a day for going to church or atoning—they were a day for football, and I guess praying could be inserted if the team was playing poorly. Since my family was constantly together, Eddie’s love for the Cowboys rubbed off on everyone—well, almost everyone. While Eddie’s dad, my Uncle Ronnie, stayed true to the 49ers, the rest of the family were converts to the magic of the Dallas Cowboys.
I have spent almost every Sunday of my life at my cousin’s house, and to be honest, I really can’t remember how many games the Cowboys won or lost or what the score ended up being. What I do remember is my family, and how we were always together through a common love of this team. I can hear my brother and Eddie rattling off statistics of each player. I remember my grandpa and grandpa holding hands because they were so nervous. I remember my mom and my aunt serving dish after dish of chips and guacamole. I remember cheering and screaming and dancing as the Cowboys made a touchdown. I remember being a family.
The Cowboys almost made it to the Superbowl this year, losing in a devastating game to the New York Giants. And yes, Eddie cried. A lot. But the great thing was that he had the rest of the family to comfort him—that is, of course, everyone but my Uncle Ronnie. He’s still hoping for the 49ers to eventually have a comeback season. Regardless, the Cowboys represent so much more than a team to me; they encompass and remind me of the bond and great times that my family has shared with each other. So yes, they lost, but hey, there’s always next season.
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