Two books were released nationally this week by publishing houses in New York. One is written by Tom Landry, the recently released Dallas Cowboys coach, along with editing help from a freelance writer named Gregg Lewis. The other is written by Skip Bayless, a sports columnist for the Dallas Times Herald.
They are both on the same subject. Namely, Landry.Landry's is titled "Tom Landry." Bayless' is titled "God's Coach." You can guess where they go from there. In his book, Landry tends to see things in a more positive light than Bayless does in his book.
When I was in Portland two months ago for the NBA Finals, Bayless, who was there writing columns for the Times Herald, told me he had just completed a book on Landry's Cowboys. "Some of it, I don't think he's going to like," Bayless said.
As it turns out, that was like saying John Kennedy might not like reading about the Bay of Pigs.
Bayless categorizes Landry as a small-time person fronted by a big-time image; a real life counterpart to the snake-oil salesman from Kansas who hid behind the curtain and became the Wizard of Oz. He categorizes the Cowboys, as they existed while Landry was coach, as a morally corrupt organization with runaway egos and rampant self-grandeur.
Landry categorizes Landry as a born-again Christian with rock-solid ideals; and he categorizes the Tom Landry Cowboys as an organization that set the tone for ultra-successful modern day sports franchises.
Other than that, the books are a lot alike.
On his "Acknowledgments" page, Bayless writes, "I ask many people to forgive me for abusing my relationship with them through the writing of this book." On his "Acknowledgments" page, Landry writes, "I'd like to thank all those writers who covered the Cowboys for the many articles, columns and books that refreshed my memory . . . " Not counting "God's Coach," presumably.
If football lives are worthy of a book, or two, Landry's would appear to qualify. He was an All-Pro defensive back for the New York Giants, an assistant coach with the Giants (Vince Lombardi was the other assistant) when they won the 1956 NFL championship, and the only head coach the Dallas Cowboys ever had. When he finished his 28-season Cowboy tenure in 1989 he could look back on an NFL-record stretch of 20 straight winning seasons (1965-1985), five Super Bowl appearances, and two Super Bowl championships.
Plus, he was affiliated with America's Team, the team people loved to hate or loved to love. Or, how many coaches do you know who got fired and were then called by the President of the United States. (Landry's book: "President Bush came on the line to express his personal sympathies at the news of my firing . . . when the President learned I was in Palm Springs, he was apologetic about calling at such an early hour; I told him to think nothing of it.")
Bayless suggests that Landry wasn't worthy of this kind of devotion; that he was a walking-talking vat of hypocrisy. Bayless seems to be of the opinion that Landry would have been out of business in Dallas along with the oil boom had it not been for Roger Staubach and his propensity in the '70s for snatching victories out of the jaws of Landry's incompetence.
The saving grace for Bayless's book is that it is well-written and entertaining. Landry's, on the other hand, would make an ideal gift for insomniacs.
Most intriguing are the accounts of how Landry was fired by Jerry Jones in 1989 when he bought the Cowboys for $150 million and insisted that that gave him the right to hire whoever he wanted as Dallas's coach - in this case, Jones's friend, Jimmy Johnson.
From both accounts, the firing was an uncomfortable situation all-around, and both Jones and Landry left the golf course in Austin - where the firing took place - cotton-mouthed and wondering about the meaning of life.
Both books are deadly serious. There are few laughs in either one. Together, they further the philosophy, held by many Americans, that the universe revolves around the National Football League.
Landry's voice is that of a person who has been glorified by the American public his whole adult life.
Bayless's voice is that of a person who is disgusted that people he sees as borderline nerds who win a few football games can be practically sainted.
Each point comes through loud and clear; about as clear as the realization that Bayless and Landry won't be meeting for dinner anytime soon at Cafe Dallas.
The books probably ought to be sold together, for balance. They won't be, of course. Each one costs $19.95 retail. The two versions of Tom Landry. More reason than ever to realize you can't believe everything you read, because when you read everything, a lot of stories cancel each other out.