A Very Good Year--to Forget : Aikman Was Winless, Woozy During Rookie Season, but Cowboys Should Be Improved

The world as Troy Aikman knew it on April 20, 1989:

Arrive at GTE facility in Thousand Oaks at 5 a.m. . . . Negotiate final points of Dallas Cowboy contract via satellite uplink system. . . . Agree to six-year, $11.2-million deal. . . . Drive to airport and board Cowboy owner Jerry Jones’ private jet bound for Dallas. . . . Meet Metroplex reporters--all 50 or so of them . . . . Join Jones and party for an evening out on the town. . . . Sign autographs. . . . Call it a night, look for cab. No cab. . . . Approach limousine driver for ride. Discover that limousine is occupied by 10 giggling young women from SMU celebrating a 21st birthday. . . . Accept their invitation of ride back to hotel. . . . Pop champagne in back seat. . . . Arrive at hotel and thank the young women for hospitality (rated G, of course). . . . Saw logs.

They don’t make 24-hour spans like that too often. For one glorious day, Aikman was treated to pomp and circumstance, Dallas style, which is to say, in the grand tradition of Texas overkill. The city showered him with praise. Jones showered him with money. And the Cowboys, those poor, hapless Cowboys, showered him with expectations.

More than a year later, a wiser and battered Aikman will tell you that being an NFL rookie quarterback is everything it’s cracked up to be. And worse.

Limos? Aikman felt as if he had been crushed by one the day the Phoenix Cardinals sent him staggering groggily toward the sideline with a concussion.

Giggling? How about groans? Aikman missed five games, among them the Cowboys’ only victory of the year, with a broken finger on his left hand.

The popping of champagne? Only if Aikman wanted to celebrate the end of a season that he says aged him “a good five years.”

Loss after mind-numbing loss. Broken plays galore. A roster so thin that Coach Jimmy Johnson was forced to start four rookies on offense. No wonder Aikman sought out his agent, Leigh Steinberg, at season’s end.

“I don’t know how those (quarterbacks) make it 10 years,” Aikman said.

“Troy, quarterbacks don’t get hit the way you did for 10 years,” Steinberg said.

Aikman had been told to expect hard times. Several UCLA teammates, who had gone on to play in the league, warned him that the experience would be like no other. The Pac-10, it wasn’t. Steinberg, who negotiated the contracts of quarterbacks Steve Bartkowski and Warren Moon, among others, detailed the pressures put on rookie starters. Johnson did what he could, but what did he know? He was in the same creaky boat as Aikman.

“No one can really tell you exactly how it’s going to be,” Aikman said. “It’s just something you have to learn by yourself.”

Create the worst situation for a No. 1 draft choice and you have the marriage between the 1989 Cowboys and Aikman. New owner. New coach. New staff. New offense. New halfback, what with Herschel Walker traded away shortly after the start of the season.

Same sorry results.

“I’d never been around a team that was as far down as we were,” Johnson said. “But Troy really played better than anybody ever imagined, as far as a rookie quarterback (goes). He can show things even without a supporting cast.”

And don’t think he didn’t get his chance. Aikman was the team’s second-leading rusher, which should tell you a little something about life in the post-Herschel era.

As for learning at the knee of an established starting quarterback, forget it. Johnson jettisoned the incumbent, Steve Pelluer, and then, after a brief--and some say perfunctory--battle with fellow rookie Steve Walsh, Aikman was given the job.

Like it or not, Aikman became the sole hope of a franchise. And although it wasn’t exactly a blueprint for success--see Elway, John, circa 1983--the Cowboys were left with few options. They could start Aikman. They could start Walsh, another rookie. Or they could try Babe Laufenberg, who had six NFL starts to his credit.

They chose Aikman.

“A guy going in the first round, especially the first player chosen, well, a team doesn’t pick him not to play,” Aikman said. “He’s got to realize that his time is going to come.”

But so soon? Aikman didn’t even know all the names of his teammates when Johnson handed him, in essence, the Cowboys’ destiny.

That was some organization, those 1989 Cowboys. Jones was despised by Tom Landry loyalists, of which there were many. Johnson wasn’t trusted: guilt by association. And two of the three Cowboy quarterback candidates were rookies. It was the year of living dangerously, and by (and on) the seat of your pants.

“We were here during that first minicamp, and I remember just trying to break the huddle the right way,” Laufenberg said.

Meanwhile, Aikman was trying to pretend he was just one of the guys, who happened to have $11.2 million stashed away. He happily accepted the nickname “Eight-ball”--as in, behind it--bestowed on him by Laufenberg, who was called “Oddball.” Then-quarterback coach Jerry Rhome, who was bald, was called “Cueball.”

Aikman ran errands for the veterans, which included picking up their sandwich requests during lunch breaks. He stood up and sang when so ordered. Rather than render UCLA tunes, Aikman belted out some gawd-awful renditions of Hank Williams ballads.

He was treading delicate territory here. Aikman had to tiptoe the fine line that separates humility from leadership. He was a rookie, sure, but he also was the starting quarterback-to-be. In the end, Aikman never entirely resolved the contradiction.

“My problem always has been that I have no patience in anything I do,” he said. “I have no patience for screw-ups. When I screw up, I have no patience with myself. And I have no patience with other guys when they’re fouling up.”

So, Aikman bit his tongue for the most part. Silence wasn’t golden, it was exasperating. There were times he wanted to assert himself, but couldn’t. Or wouldn’t.

Instead, Aikman put even more pressure on himself. He searched for perfection on a grossly imperfect team. He failed to accept one of Laufenberg’s football theories: Every level you progress--from high school to college, from college to pros--the tougher it is to strap a team to one player’s back. And here was Aikman trying to carry the whole load up a very steep flight of stairs.

“Any time you play a guy as a rookie, you have to be careful you don’t crush him,” Laufenberg said.

But even with knees buckling on occasion, Aikman never complained. He didn’t dare.

As if that weren’t enough, Aikman found it hard to say no to appearance requests. Always the good soldier, Aikman thought it his duty to make the banquet rounds, or play in a charity golf tournament, or talk to the Kiwanis Club.

“If someone wanted him to cut the ribbon at a gas station 50 miles away, Troy would say, ‘Great, I’ll be there,’ ” Laufenberg said.

In the lobby of the team’s training facility are three television monitors. In other years, tape after tired tape of Cowboy highlights was shown. Now, two of the television sets are blank. The other one features an afternoon soap opera.

Had you witnessed the Cowboys’ 1989 season, you’d know why.

Aikman’s regular-season career began against the New Orleans Saints at the Superdome. The Saints won, 28-0, taking full advantage of Aikman’s inexperience.

“I don’t know if they ran the same defense twice,” Laufenberg said.

Which brings us to another of Laufenberg’s theories: The younger the quarterback, the more pass coverages he will see.

“They figure, ‘Let’s throw the kitchen sink at him,’ ” Laufenberg said. “By the end of the year, Troy had seen every defense known to man.”

Dallas lost to Atlanta next, then to Washington, then to the New York Giants, but not before Aikman was sent to the locker room with a broken finger. At first, he thought he had simply jammed the digit. So he rushed up to offensive lineman Kevin Gogan and had him yank the finger--twice. If it wasn’t broken before Gogan tugged, it was afterward.

Aikman missed the next five games. He had one touchdown and six interceptions to show for his troubles. Nor were things expected to improve much upon his return, especially after the Cowboys traded Walker to the Minnesota Vikings after the fifth week of the season. Without Walker, the Cowboys would have to depend on their passing game and Aikman that much more.

But something happened during Aikman’s stay on the injured-reserve list. He began to relax. He began to be himself.

“The time I had off was really a blessing for me,” he said.

On Nov. 12 against the Phoenix Cardinals, Aikman was back in in the starting lineup and promptly broke an NFL rookie record by passing for 379 yards. The clincher was a 75-yard touchdown play to wide receiver James Dixon, who undoubtedly never saw linebacker Anthony Bell crunch Aikman as the ball was delivered.

Aikman, blood oozing from his right ear, wobbled off the field with a game-ending concussion. And a record to cherish in a 24-20 defeat.

Despite Aikman’s best efforts, the Cowboys did not win a game with him as their starter. They had a quarterback, but no defense.

Aikman threw four touchdown passes against the Rams . . . and lost. He lowered his interception rate, increased his touchdown percentage. His completion mark was an impressive 56% in those final seven games. Yet, there was not a single victory to show for it.

Cowboy fans were surprisingly calm.

“Realistically, people didn’t expect us to do a lot better than last year’s record (3-13),” Aikman said. “Actually, I thought they were really pretty easy on us.”

Said Laufenberg: “They booed him, but it wasn’t as bad as it could have been. With Troy, at least he got to the fourth quarter before they started booing him. They gave him the benefit of the doubt through three quarters.”

He deserved it. Aikman’s offense was working without the benefit of Walker. His replacement, Paul Palmer, sizzled and then fizzled. Fullbacks Daryl Johnston and Broderick Sargent were inconsistent or hurt. Deduct the two rushing touchdowns Walker scored before his departure and the Cowboys finished with only two scores on runs.

It got worse. The Cowboys also lost starting wide receivers Michael Irvin and Kelvin Martin to injuries. Thornton Chandler was supposed to be the Cowboys’ answer at tight end. He wasn’t.

“James Dixon and Derrick Shepard . . . they ended up being the starters (at wide receiver),” Johnson said. “That tells you how desperate we were.”

Even though you need only a single hand to count the team’s highlights, there were some moments to remember. The Walsh-led victory over the Redskins is a start. Aikman’s performances against the Cardinals and, later, the Rams are also worth mention.

But especially telling was an on-field incident involving Aikman and a Cowboy wide receiver--Aikman won’t say which one--late in the season. It seems that the wide receiver broke a pattern at the exact moment Aikman was throwing the ball. The pass was intercepted. Aikman raged.

Reports vary, but this much is true: Aikman, all 220 pounds of him, threatened to introduce his fists to the receiver’s jaw if another pass pattern was disregarded. It was one of the few times all year that Aikman truly took charge.

This season will be different. Aikman guarantees it. So does Johnson.

For instance, first-round draft choice Emmitt Smith, a slower version of Barry Sanders, is expected to help rescue the Dallas running game, as is Terrence Flagler, whom the Cowboys got from the San Francisco 49ers in a trade.

Irvin and Martin will be back, and veteran receiver Dennis McKinnon, a Plan B acquisition from the Chicago Bears, is sure to get lots of playing time. So is second-round pick Alexander Wright, one of the fastest players available in the draft.

Sure-handed Jay Novacek will probably start at tight end. Tony Slaton, made available by the Rams, will help the Cowboys’ offensive line.

At last, there will be some depth on offense.

“Somebody said the other day, ‘Am I happy now that I’m able to give Troy a better supporting cast?’ ” Johnson said. “I said, ‘The heck with Troy. I’m happy for Jimmy Johnson that we’ve been able to upgrade the talent on this team.’ ”

Already, Aikman has predicted vast improvement in his own play. He knows the roster. He knows the offense. He knows the starting job is his.

“All I have to do is relearn the playbook,” he said.

And forget, if he can, the comedy that became the 1989 Cowboy season.