The Thought Process
I’ve never before made an effort to explain the thought process behind one of my books, because it’s actually surprisingly hard to put into words. You spend a ton of time researching, writing, editing, and often the thought process just sort of becomes the day-to-day work. But, hell, I’ll try …
What I wanted to do with “Boys Will Be Boys” is explore a team that was equal parts likeable and detestable, and do so in a way that wouldn’t have readers walking away with a 100-percent one-sided opinion. For example, toward the end of working on my Barry Bonds biography, “Love Me, Hate Me,” I was pretty certain those who took the time to read the book (thanks, by the way) would have little good to say about the man. That wasn’t my desire—I desperately wanted to find a positive side to Bonds. But, well, I also want to cure chronic nasal drip and learn to like the taste of Old Milwaukee.
Unlike Bonds, the Cowboys present multiple sides. Take Michael Irvin, for example. The guy was one of the worst role models a person could imagine—cheated on his wife constantly; did tons of drugs; employed questionable sportsmanship. But, at the same time, he’d literally take a bullet for a teammate. Irvin worked his butt off, showed up early, played hard 100 percent of the time, gave loads of time and money to charity. So is he a good guy or a bad guy? Hmm …
I also didn’t want this to be strictly a detailing of a team’s bad behavior. I’m becoming increasingly aware that authors can be typecast in ways similar to actors and singers, and with a history that included the 1999 John Rocker profile for Sports Illustrated, as well as two books about controversial subjects (the ’86 Mets and Bonds), I desperately want to avoid that (My next book: Knitting & You: Good Times). Hence, to me this book is about these amazing teams even more than it’s about the drugs and women. It’s about the development of Aikman; the explosiveness of Emmitt Smith; the practice habits of Michael Irvin. It’s about the drastically different styles of two coaches, Jimmy Johnson and Barry Switzer, who both won Super Bowls. First and foremost, I wanted it to be a football book.
That said, the Cowboys of the ’90s are the Cowboys of the ’90s, and they’re significantly more than a mere football team. That whole time period was just, for lack of a better word, dizzying. The Cowboys owned Dallas, as well as the NFL. They were the high-flying stars of the sporting world in the last pre-internet, pre-reality TV era, when fans actually read newspapers and watched entire games (without checking their e-mails) to learn the results. I’m not quite sure what I’m trying to say here, except that the Cowboys enjoyed a certain intimacy with their fans. They were live and in-person—right there for the taking.
I tried my best to capture this. Hopefully, the book speaks for itself …