Harry Jaffe
‘Dan and Jerry’s Excellent Adventure’
By: Harry Jaffe
Examiner Columnist
December 31, 2008
The following is a proposed screenplay for a fantasy flick that might open locally on Halloween.
It would open with Redskins owner Daniel Snyder and a friend kicking back on his yacht, cruising in the gentle winds of the Mediterranean Sea.
“What could I have done to avoid such a mediocre season?” Dan wondered aloud. He stuck his Cuban cigar in his mouth, took a puff, blew a smoke ring. “Hiring Jim Zorn as coach was a risk, but we started off so well. We were 6-2 and heading for the Super Bowl.” Then the harsh reality of life in the NFL intruded. Snyder’s hapless Redskins dropped games to crummy teams. Touchdowns were as scarce as sober fans in FedEx Field. The Skins wound up 8-8 — no playoffs, no glory, no prospects.
Jerry Jones, owner of the Dallas Cowboys, walked across the deck, took a seat and grabbed a cigar.
“Who are you talking to?” Jones asked.
“Myself,” Snyder said.
Jones and Snyder are buddies. Their teams are mortal enemies. Their franchises are the two most valuable in pro football. But in the offseason, they often vacation together. They love yachting.
“You think you have problems?” Jones said. “My Cowboys were supposed to go to the Super Bowl. The Eagles destroy them in the last game of the season, and we got nothing.”
Snyder and Jones puffed and pondered in silence. They both are wealthy beyond anyone’s needs, yet their money can’t buy them what they truly want: a Super Bowl trophy.
Snyder put down his cigar, grabbed his cell phone and pressed #2, speed dial for Vinnie Cerrato, his sidekick and Redskins executive vice president.
“Vinnie,” he yelled. “What about Brett Favre? He’s through with the Jets. Let’s dangle a few mil in his face and get a name-brand back in the lineup.”
“Great idea, boss,” Cerrato said. “Lemme check.”
Snyder sucked on his cigar and pondered his nine years as Redskins boss. He had begun by buying washed-up stars, like Deion Sanders. Nada. He replaced coaches faster than he changed Redskinettes. He threw $25 million at venerated coach Joe Gibbs to bring him back from retirement. Gibbs hired wobbly-legged quarterback Mark Brunell. Nada.
“I threw the dice with Zorn and a young QB, Jason Campbell,” Snyder said to no one in particular. “Nada.”
Jones nodded. “What am I going to do with Tony Romo?” he asked. The young quarterback has folded at the end of every season. “Interested?”
“Could create problems for me,” Snyder said. “Romo brings along his girlfriend, Jessica Simpson. I’m not sure they would mix well with Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. You know how close we are with them.
“But,” Snyder added, “I think we could make it work.”
“One thing,” Jones said. “You have to take T.O., too.”
Snyder knows volatile wide receiver Terrell Owens has wrecked every team he’s joined: San Francisco, Philadelphia, now Dallas.
He looked at Jones, shoved the cigar in the corner of his mouth and said: “Deal.”
And they sailed into the sunset.
It would open with Redskins owner Daniel Snyder and a friend kicking back on his yacht, cruising in the gentle winds of the Mediterranean Sea.
“What could I have done to avoid such a mediocre season?” Dan wondered aloud. He stuck his Cuban cigar in his mouth, took a puff, blew a smoke ring. “Hiring Jim Zorn as coach was a risk, but we started off so well. We were 6-2 and heading for the Super Bowl.” Then the harsh reality of life in the NFL intruded. Snyder’s hapless Redskins dropped games to crummy teams. Touchdowns were as scarce as sober fans in FedEx Field. The Skins wound up 8-8 — no playoffs, no glory, no prospects.
Jerry Jones, owner of the Dallas Cowboys, walked across the deck, took a seat and grabbed a cigar.
“Who are you talking to?” Jones asked.
“Myself,” Snyder said.
Jones and Snyder are buddies. Their teams are mortal enemies. Their franchises are the two most valuable in pro football. But in the offseason, they often vacation together. They love yachting.
“You think you have problems?” Jones said. “My Cowboys were supposed to go to the Super Bowl. The Eagles destroy them in the last game of the season, and we got nothing.”
Snyder and Jones puffed and pondered in silence. They both are wealthy beyond anyone’s needs, yet their money can’t buy them what they truly want: a Super Bowl trophy.
Snyder put down his cigar, grabbed his cell phone and pressed #2, speed dial for Vinnie Cerrato, his sidekick and Redskins executive vice president.
“Vinnie,” he yelled. “What about Brett Favre? He’s through with the Jets. Let’s dangle a few mil in his face and get a name-brand back in the lineup.”
“Great idea, boss,” Cerrato said. “Lemme check.”
Snyder sucked on his cigar and pondered his nine years as Redskins boss. He had begun by buying washed-up stars, like Deion Sanders. Nada. He replaced coaches faster than he changed Redskinettes. He threw $25 million at venerated coach Joe Gibbs to bring him back from retirement. Gibbs hired wobbly-legged quarterback Mark Brunell. Nada.
“I threw the dice with Zorn and a young QB, Jason Campbell,” Snyder said to no one in particular. “Nada.”
Jones nodded. “What am I going to do with Tony Romo?” he asked. The young quarterback has folded at the end of every season. “Interested?”
“Could create problems for me,” Snyder said. “Romo brings along his girlfriend, Jessica Simpson. I’m not sure they would mix well with Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes. You know how close we are with them.
“But,” Snyder added, “I think we could make it work.”
“One thing,” Jones said. “You have to take T.O., too.”
Snyder knows volatile wide receiver Terrell Owens has wrecked every team he’s joined: San Francisco, Philadelphia, now Dallas.
He looked at Jones, shoved the cigar in the corner of his mouth and said: “Deal.”
And they sailed into the sunset.
Follow The Examiner
