A home for those who love almost everything about The Ticket (1310 AM, 96.7 FM, Dallas-Fort Worth), and who would like to discuss -- respectfully and fondly -- their thoughts on how (and whether) to eliminate the "almost."
"Papa" John Schnatter, insufferable commercial pal of numerous pizza-fond athletes, is out as CEO of Papa John's.
He recently criticized the NFL for not getting control of this anthem-kneeling thing, blaming it for a downturn in pizza sales.
There was talk at the time that his sometime ad-making chum Jerry Jones put him up to this public speculation, both as an anti-Goodell strategy and to bring the economic effect of public revulsion over this practice home to the players.
He was widely ridiculed for this.
(But if an activity associated with pizza-eating, as home football viewing kinda is, declines because people are starting to loathe pro football and its players (and probably its Commissioner and its referees and its owners), would it surprise anyone if, to some extent, he were right? Has anyone looked into this?)
He's staying on as Chairman.
Will his athletic friends continue to hang out with him if his pizza-flogging days, no doubt accompanied by complimentary tastings, have come to an end?
I came to The Ticket after the main Davey Lane years, I think. I started listening in late 2004 or thereabouts. I never heard The Rant, but maybe I wasn't tuning in weekends at that time -- thought I was, but maybe not.
I did hear The Orphanage for many years. Loved it. Miss it.
Whenever I hear him on the air, I think: This is good. This sounds like a Ticket guy. Sounds, in fact, like a Ticket host. Has, in fact, that Craig "Junior" Miller crazy/cool vibe.
Would most of us consider his appearances with Corby and Danny this week to be a success? I would. (And it reminds us, as we have been reminded many times, that Corby can be really good when he's away from The Hardline setting.)
So I ask, why not more Dave Lane?
And why did he leave The Ticket to begin with?
I ask it reluctantly, because I fear it may provoke answers having something to do with some unfortunate employment situation, or internal Ticket problem, or domestic issues, that are really none of this site's business. Well, maybe internal Ticket problems are.
I can see why a guy might leave a station voluntarily. If, for example, he wanted to make an actual living instead of waiting on a Ticket host to die.
But, if LinkedIn is to be believed, the man is somewhat at loose ends right now, and has been for awhile.
But, alas, there is no room for him at The Ticket most of the time. With full-time JVs scrabbling for airtime and fill-in host duties, there just aren't a lot of slots for cameos by Historical Ticket Figures.
I'm rambling. I don't have a point. I just like listening to Dave Lane, I wish he were on more often, I'm sorry he's not a full-time Ticket star, and MTC wishes him well.
I know it's a lame redhead-related-to-elephant image, but the only other two on the entire Internet I'd already used, and they weren't choice, either.
Tomorrow (Wednesday) is the day. Should be fun.
Look, everyone, I know everyone's favorites Corby and T.C. will be doing a show together, but let's keep thing civil, OK? (Have you caught the reaction -- including by Corby -- on the shows when mention is made of their noon-3 partnership tomorrow? There's a novel between the lines there.)
But there's always great stuff from the hosts doing lower-tier tasks. Danny states he is only going to read tonight's hockey score for each of his tickers ftom 10 to 3. I'll listen as much as I can, but as usual, you guys will have to do most of the work. You know there will be gold, and some tension as well.
OK, Confessors. I need to know if I'm losing my mind. Let me know if any of you have heard this.
The Ticket is running a promo where Norm says something like:
"The Cowboys now have ten days to meticulously prepare for [short pause] Geno Smith." Then Donovan laughs and says "Oh, yeah," something like that. A reasonably funny observation, Norm sells it with a "wait for it" pause, and a sensible reaction from Donovan.
This morning on my jog listening to the Teebox, I heard the same promo, except it sounded like they'd edited it to substitute "the Giants" for "Geno Smith" -- no pause. Just a declarative sentence. But still followed by the same Donovan explosive chortle -- which now makes no sense.
But I am thinking I may have one or both of those promos wrong.
Please advise.
And if I've heard this correctly, why change the promo? Because no one's heard of Geno Smith?
Have a fine holiday weekend.
CORRECTION: I am in fact losing my mind, or my hearing. I heard the promo again on "Work in Progress" this morning (another bad title -- why do the JV sometimes select self-critical titles?), and they did not edit out "Geno Smith" -- the entire phrase is "Geno Smith and the Giants." Just heard "Giants" the time when I thought they'd edited it.
So never mind, and enjoy the redhead.
"I contact the Plainsman at ThePlainsman1310@gmail.com. So can you!"
Out driving around today. Hit The Ticket,
expecting to hear SMU football with great play-by-play by Rich Phillips.
Nope, must have been halftime.
Wandered the dial and stumbled on a show on KESN (ESPN) that kept me tuned in
for the next hour or so.
Not just "a show"; they call it "The Show." Pretty
aggressive (and unimaginative) title, but it was good, kept me listening with
approximate Ticket-attentiveness.
It featured Matt McClearin (formerly paired with Scot Harrison Sundays on the
The Ticket (MaSS) before the two of them decamped to Birmingham for 3.5 years
(WJOX)) and DJ Ringgenberg. They talked college football and Cowboys.
Matt the good cop, DJ the bad cop. In a show where McClearin is the
mature older presence, you know you're going to hear some snottiness, but I
liked it for all that. Ringgenberg's contempt for the Nebraska
Cornhuskers was amusing after their shellacking by Iowa yesterday.
(Ringgenberg's an Iowa grad.)
I see on Ringgenberg's LinkedIn page that he also interned for Norm from June
through August 2012. After describing his duties, he notes: "I
also prepared excellent coffee to the exact specifications of Mr. Hitzges on a
daily basis.”
A highlight of the show was an interview with Charean
Williams. She was excellent, damned hard-core sportsy talk and no
cutesy. The Ticket could use a sports-media call-in expert like that;
heck, could use a host like that. Would love to hear her on with the
'Line. She was with the Fort Worth Star-Telegram since 1999, laid off
last May. Cat should give her a call, she sounds like she'd be
worth shuffling for. Jeez, he's Ops Director for the station, he may have
programmed her. Move her on over, Jeff.
You guys may already know about The Show and Ringgenberg and Williams, but they
were new to me, probably because I'm mostly Ticket-centric. Anyway, a
meaty listen and thought I'd pass it along.
Did get to hear Rich Phillips's thrilling call of the final play of the
SMU-Tulane game. Of course, most of Rich's calls are thrilling.
"I don't care f_____-all about what bag of Jones DNA operates the Dallas Cowboys, but don't you dare touch that cute ginger football team manager man."
I believe I wrote a week or so back that I wanted to hear Our Man Monte and Travis Mejia do a weekend show. If I'm hearing things correctly, I believe I'm getting my wish this fine Central Standard Sunday ("Mon-T&T," they're calling it).
Sounds good so far.
LATER: I guess I missed a "T" -- there's a third host, one Tim with an Eastern European last name I'm not catching and not finding online -- Krajewski, maybe? The only one I can find. Pretty good show, good sound. Not sure about three voices on a Sunday morning. Not sure. But liking it OK. Monte in charge, that's a good.
Also, that last redhead was only up for a couple of hours before I put up that archived post, so here she is again.
This will be the third time I've run this piece. Sorry if you remember it from 2013 or 2015. Of the hundreds of articles I've composed, I think this one was the most fun on my end. Suffice it to say it did not gain any traction, or really much notice, on either occasion but it makes me smile to think about it so I'm going to flog the long-suffering Confessor one more time with it, as George's recent oration has brought its topic to the forefront in a way we haven't seen in these parts for awhile.
I have updated it in only two respects: (1) I have linked to the video of the Monty Python Brontosaurus Theory sketch, which has nothing whatever to do with this topic and which you may usefully skip, and (2) I've noted one additional fact in support, which appears in brackets.
My analysis of Cowboys mediocrity is somewhat out of date, but was laser-accurate and MTC-hot as of 2013.
I hope you enjoy it (again, for those of you who have been with me for awhile). Feel free to share on the electric computer system of the world of Social Mediums.
And Thank You for Shopping at My Ticket Confession.
The Time Has Come to Reveal My
Far-Fetched but Deeply-Held Belief on Solving the Problem of Perpetual
Cowboys Mediocrity; or, The Brontosaurus Theory
Confessors,
with a title like that, I deem that you have been given fair warning
that this is one of those blessedly rare Plainsman sportsy posts,
wherein I demonstrate rather small knowledge about sports. I suppose
that's what comes of listening to The Ticket.
But,
in honor of the entrepreneurial spirit embodied in Danny Balis (there's
your Ticket connection for this post), let me ask you to put aside
preconceived notions and use your imagination. You can probably come up
with some variations of what follows that may make more sense.
The
conventional wisdom – and this view is held not only by me and many of
you, but by an acquaintance of mine who might in fact be the No. 1
Cowboys fan in DFW, I kid you not – is that the Cowboys will not return
to greatness as long as they are owned by Jerry Jones. That the Cowboys
will, in fact, get worse as his ego continues to eat away at judgment
with the passing years. Because Jerry Jones will not give up control as
he struggles to cast off the shadow Jimmy and win a title for which he
can claim principal credit. And because Jerry Jones will not sell the
Cowboys, their averageness-or-worse will soil that beastly stadium out
there for years to come.
I grant that this is a very likely scenario. But it is not the only possible scenario. Let me toss out a few concepts.
Jerry Is a Very, Very Bad General Manager and Owner. I
won't spend much time on this, we all know it. His latest
machinations, castrating Jason Garrett, loading up the coaching staff
with people he selects, is a recipe for failure. It is widely accepted
that 2013 is make-or-break for Garrett – but what earthly sense does it
make to (1) reduce his responsibility for the offense and (2) stick him
with personnel not of his choosing and then to increase his
accountability? I happen to think Garrett bears a large share of the
blame for fielding offenses that apparently don't know the plays after
two-plus years and that can't get them called before a half-second
remains on the play clock. Maybe Jerry has selected players of
incorrigible stupidity, but more likely is that they're not prepared, or
the plays require calls that are not appropriate for the hurly-burly of
the gridiron, or Tony doesn't transmit the playcalls efficiently. But
if that's the way you as GM feel about the guy, fire him, don't play
games for another season that do nothing more than establish the head
coach's lack of authority and your own poor judgment, begging yet the
further question: What accomplished, self-respecting coach would play
for the meddlesome savant-wannabe caricature that is Jerry Jones?
And
he's a bad owner because he refuses to hire experienced professional
football management, or listen to the people in his organization who fit
that description.
Since we all pretty much believe that Jerry is incompetent, why do I even bother to mention it? Because:
Jerry Jones Is SoIncompetent,
That in the Process of Manufacturing Year After Year of Mediocrity and
Worse, Jerry Jones Is Also Managing to Embarrass Texas in General, and,
in Particular, the Wealthy of Texas. Jones is pathologically
incapable of keeping his piehole zipped. And in its unzipped state, it
emits torrents of disconnected phrases, 180-degree contradictions within
a single breath, and downright nonsense. It would be tolerable and
possibly even charming if he'd shown a molecule of talent for running a
football team, but since he hasn't, he looks like the kind of Texan,
especially the kind of rich Texan, that non-Texans like to sneer at –
ignorant, arrogant, incoherent. (Although he was born in Los Angeles and
raised in Arkansas.) The kind who thinks it's classy to hang the
world's biggest video screen in his stadium, so big it renders the live
contest irrelevant, and to feature caged go-go dancers. You can't tell
me that his pals in whatever the Rich Guy Club is in these parts (um, I
don't belong) don't cringe when they see his latest high-wire act before
any nearby open mic and hear everyone, even media types who might be
expected to curry his favor, shaking their heads in disbelief that this
well-meaning but thoroughly deluded soul is helming the destruction of
the most valuable sports franchise in the country.
There Are Lots of Really, Really Rich People in Texas. And
when you put a few of them together, a billion here, a billion there,
pretty soon you're talking about real money. And maybe they'd rather
people think of them more like J.R. Ewing, and not J.W. Jones.
Everything Has Its Price.
Including Jerry.
Ah, but you say, Jerry does not have
his price. His pride would never let him sell the team while it's
down, before it does something really terrific, at least get to a Super
Bowl if not win it.
I
agree that Jerry will never accept market value for the team, however
that may be measured (although every year there are organizations
purporting to do it, including one that reported today).
So
the first step is for a bunch of these rich guys who have had enough
losing and ridicule to get together and offer Jerry crazy money. I
don't know how crazy it would have to be to let Jerry claim that as
his ultimate victory. Maybe he wouldn't take it. Maybe the crazy
money would have to be so crazy that not even a consortium of the
extremely wealthy would consider offering it. I would, however, ask you
to remember the difference between the price Nolan Ryan's group agreed
to pay for the Rangers at the outset, and what they eventually paid
after Mark Cuban got the bidding way up there.
Then what?
Creativity.
Find
some way to let Jerry save face. Make him Chairman Emeritus. Name the
stadium after him and pay him for the right to use his name. A
permanent suite at the stadium. (With parking!) Perhaps work something
where he keeps the stadium or some piece of it. There are all kinds of
ways to compensate selling business owners. Insist that they pay him
personally millions not to take his incomparable football management
skills to any other NFL team. Give him a consulting deal and actually
have meetings and let him have his say.
OK, let's say that none of this moves the old Razorback.
There's always:
Leverage.
How do you get leverage over an ego?
Include Stephen and Jerry Jr. in the Consortium. Is
Stephen Jones the Prince Charles of DFW or what? Waiting for His
Majesty to abdicate or die. Perhaps it would be meaningful to Jerry (in
addition to the crazy money, let's not forget) to know that his beloved
offspring would have some kind of management and ownership role, and
that he'd still have his son's ear on matters Cowboys, even if he would
have no authority. I can imagine that the boys (!) would have some
reluctance to show up with a group offering to buy the team – I'm sure
they love and feel loyalty toward their Pop and might fear a family
falling-out if appearing to want to oust him. Still, there may be
creative ways to involve them in a subtle and diplomatic approach that
would not offend Jerry.
The Brontosaurus Theory. But
here's my gee-whiz solution, and I'm sure that there are NFL-savvy
readers out there who will tell me that this could never, ever happen in
a squillion years.
But,
like Anne Elk (John Cleese) who offers her theory on the brontosaurus on Monty Python's Flying Circus, this is my theory, and it
is mine, and belongs to me, and what it is, too. The next thing you
will read is my theory:
This
rich-guy consortium goes to Jerry – again, with their crazy money,
maybe really crazy in light of this (my) theory and the thinking they
want to inspire in Jerry, and they say this:
Jerry,
we have crazy money for you. You know as sure as you're sitting there
that this is easily a 30% premium over the highest valuation that any
so-called expert places on this team. You take that and walk away and
you can hold your head high, laughing at your critics, knowing that win
or lose, you, by the sheer force of your personality and will and balls
in getting that stadium built, and, yes, winning three Super Bowls,
created immense, incredible value, made this the second most valuable
franchise in the world, second only to Manchester United. Incredible
accomplishment, Jerry.
You take
this crazy money, Jerry. You take it. We'll put your name on that
stadium. Take a look at this term sheet, there's a bunch of other
goodies in there, and looky here, Jerry, we're going to give Stephen and
Jerry Jr. and Charlotte the opportunity to invest at a very high level and give them
significant management responsibility. You can be Chairman Emeritus.
Take
this crazy money, Jerry, and all the rest, because if you don't take
this crazy money, we're going to keep an appointment that we made some
months ago with Roger Goodell to discuss with him our strong commitment
to putting an NFL team in Fort Worth, Texas. As you can see, it will
be hugely well-financed, with a stadium – oh, Jerry, it will not be a
stadium like yours – it will be a big stadium, for sure, but it will be
one that people will love, a real Texas stadium, like Fort Worth is a
real Texas city, like people love the Ballpark at Arlington, like people
love Sundance Square that was also bought with crazy Fort Worth money.
In fact, that stadium, it'll be
right near downtown -- those city fathers know how to work with
businessmen. Maybe we'll swipe Jacksonville or some other lame
franchise – maybe we'll argue for expansion. And Roger Goodell will
listen, and all the other owners we've made appointments with will
listen, because Texas is a football state, and DFW is a gigantic market
with lots and lots of people who have given up their Cowboy season
tickets and lost all faith in you, and because major and lesser markets
have fielded two NFL teams at once: New York, Bay Area. [And since this was written, Los Angeles.] Crazy money,
Jerry. You
think your fellow owners would never allow it? Think again. Crazy.
And when we get that franchise -- don't you doubt us, Jerry, you know
who we are -- we are going to treat our fans like royalty and we're
going to get the best football people in the country and we're going to
have a fracking party every week over in crazy Fort
Worth over this team we're going to put together, Jerry. Ground floor
fans who don't give a bag of dirt about what your franchise did 20 years
ago. And we'll grab your fans, we'll grab your concession dollars,
we'll grab your capital appreciation, we'll grab all of it and we will
keep grabbing. Because that is how we got this crazy money in the first place. It won't be hard. Crazy money, Jerry. We got it. We can get more.
Because we're winners.
Sign here.
* * *
A bit melodramatic, perhaps. And with a number of strategic difficulties. But God, that was fun.
Here's
my point – we shouldn't assume that no circumstances exist under which
Jerry would consider selling the team. You won't know until you
try. Until you try, and let it leak that you're trying. And I'm
serious about a Fort Worth team.
So
here's the plan, Confessors. Send the link to this post to all of your
billionaire friends. Let's see, do I know any billionaires, let me
think . . .
This topic has been rattling around up there for awhile, and in light of the comments from the previous post about Coach Switzer's interviews with The Hardline, I thought I might unburden myself of a few thoughts.
I'm not a famous person. (In one sense, I'm not a person at all.) I doubt whether many of my readers are, except maybe that anonymous guy who was floridly and intemperately critical of one of my posts or comments, and who I referred to as a jamoke in my colorful rebuttal, and who subsequently asserted that if only I knew who he was, I'd know he wasn't a jamoke -- maybe he's famous. (Ah, the private suffering of the anonymous jamoke.)
The Ticket hosts are kind of famous, but, thanks to maladroit marketing by Cumulus and its predecessors, not too. Yes, there are the Marconis, but I doubt whether anyone in that room that night not associated with Cumulus after that third Marconi was announced could name a single one of the hosts. In general, they're not even regional celebrities. Local, sure.
That's one of the reasons we like them, I think. One of the reasons I do, anyway. They're just guys sitting around talking with their voices being picked up by radio microphone devices. In fact, they're not just guys -- doing what they do and making it sound like just guys sitting around talking with their voices being picked up by radio microphone devices -- and being entertaining in the bargain -- is a rare gift.
Corby always takes grief for the Barry Switzer interviews. He overlaughs, he kisses ass.
I think that's OK.
First, Corby ALWAYS overlaughs at remarks that are moderately amusing throughout the Hardline showgram, and sometimes remarks that are not so amusing. If you don't like Corby's overlaughing at only moderately-or-less amusing remarks, you can't listen to any of The Hardline (and some of you don't), but we're talking here about one particular segment. To criticize the Switzer interviews, you have to factor out the overlaughing because it is not unique to that interview.
I'll get to the ass-kissing in a moment.
Like Barry Switzer or not, he's a fun listen. If Corby and Mike didn't interrupt from time to time, the man would go on for the entire segment. And I must tell you -- I don't like anything I know about Barry Switzer, which is not a lot, but I find the man very entertaining in these segments. I caught most of the interview on the Top Ten tonight, and I thought it was terrific. The phone story (which I assume has been told before, which Corby reprieved this time around), the Dak Prescott story -- very fun.
So that takes care of the overlaughing and the merits of the interview.
Let's get to the ass-kissing.
It is my opinion that Corby kisses no more, or, if any more, only a tiny bit more, celebrity or sports-star or presidential ass than any other host on The Ticket.
ALL of the hosts kiss the ass of celebrities who give of their time to appear on a show. BaD builds entire bits around snaring the famous to appear on their show, and when they get snagged (obviously thinking of Guest Booking League here), they're welcomed with great warmth and familiarity. The Musers -- same. Norm -- holy poop. Corby is not worse or less listenable in this regard than any other (except, maybe, when Dan annoys someone almost completely off the phone).
But -- and here's where I'll probably hear from the respectful Confessor -- I don't really consider it ass-kissing. Say what you will about Lee Corso, and whether Dan was being a Big Jerk or not (I don't even remember what he was supposed to have done that was so awful), he was right that most of these guys come the shows for no pay because they're good guys, as Corso says, to "help out" the sportsy station. (Sometimes, of course, they have something to hype, and sometimes they have a sponsored segment, like J Witten.) What we may think is ass-kissing is, for the most part, common courtesy. And it's common courtesy because our hosts are decent human beings, not themselves famous or on a par with the people they're interviewing. They treat these busy and notable persons as they should, as having scheduled a part of their busy day, or interrupting their own private lives, to make themselves better known to us.
And besides, Confessors -- if by virtue of your position as a host on one of the most popular radio shows in the world you develop a personal relationship with a public figure you admire, would you reject that opportunity? We're not looking to The Ticket to break big stories or dig up dirt on celebrities; we're looking for some anecdotes, some glimpse of the human behind the image. Joshing around with the rich and famous -- The Ticket is pretty good at that, and Corby is an absolute freakin' master. Shaq and Parcells come to mind. Doesn't bother me a bit.
So I guess all I'm saying is that (1) I don't mind the celeb-sniffing on any of the shows, and (2) I don't find Corby any more cloyingly obvious in that regard than any other host.
If my deep Cumulus source is correct, I believe most Confessors will find this a welcome development. (I never know how reliable my sources are, but this one has the ring of accuracy on the merits, so I'm going with it.)
I have enjoyed Eli Jordan's work since he emerged at The Ticket awhile back -- he'll even sit in with Rick Arnett on The Tee Box from time to time -- but I'm especially pleased for Ty Walker. Of course, he hosts Diamond Talk with Sean Bass, but it's great to see he's earned a permanent daylight-hours slot after his expert backwater toil at The Ticket all these years. (I'm still waiting for someone to tell me what award Diamond Talk has won, not that it doesn't deserve to have won one, but it's right there in all the promos; you'd think someone would know.)
That leaves Sunday mornings, 8-11, to be filled.
My own listening plus comments received on this site inspire a respectful request to the New World Catman to give the very most thoughtful and heartfelt consideration to some combination that includes Justin Montemayor.
Then the Ticket world will be perfect, except for all that network programming.
Congratulations to Ty and Eli.
Hay! Country Force, can't wait for your tractor-pull coverage.
