This Whitewater Is Tears of Fans

Where was President Clinton when America’s team needed him most?

When his brother Arkansans needed him most? When Jimmy Johnson and Jerry Jones needed him most?

Standing up at a wedding in Dallas and vacationing in California, that’s where. Pretty flimsy excuses.

For shame, Mr. President. Your priorities, sir.


Jimmy and Jerry, the biggest breakup since Dean and Jerry, and what does our nation’s leader do about it? Nothing.

He could get Yitzhak Rabin to shake hands with Yasser Arafat, but could he get Jimmy back together with Jerry? No!

Too busy watching Arkansas players shooting baskets and Michigan players changing pants.

Where were the Dallas Cowboy peace talks? Where was the accord that could have spared Texans this bloody Jimmy-Jerry civil war?

Where was Hillary when all this was going on? Where were Harry and Linda Bloodworth-Thomason?

We have a whole Congressional committee investigating that petty real estate thing, but not a soul looking into this serious Cowpoke scandal.

Something peculiar here. I think maybe Kevin Kline is in the White House again, impersonating the President.

Mr. Clinton is a big, big sports fan. He proved that recently by naming the entire Arkansas Razorback starting lineup, their scoring averages, their jersey numbers, their shoe sizes and today’s specials at the Fayetteville diner.


Ms. Rodham Clinton likes her sports, too. She has agreed to toss out the first pitch at the Chicago Cubs’ home opener, where, if she shows anything, she will be sent to triple A to work on her screwball and then return to the team by September.

The President will continue to cheer for Arkansas in the NCAA tournament and will expel Arizona from the union if it wins, leaving us with 49 states.

He was recently down there in Dallas, making sure his brother, Roger, didn’t skip out on his wedding to go lay two bucks on some pony in Hot Springs. The President also took his Final Four First Family to a basketball game and was given a pair of Arkansas basketball trunks, one pair of which would fit a family of three.

But did he intervene in the big Dallas Cowboy spittin’ match? He did not. He could have brought Jimmy and Jerry back together to the table for one more talk. Mr. Clinton is an expert negotiator. He could have opened up with some small talk. Could have recommended to Jimmy Johnson a really good Beverly Hills barber. He could have pointed out to Jerry Jones politely that any man who replaces Tom Landry and Jimmy Johnson in one lifetime is looking to be branded a horse’s butt at the Big D ranch.


He could even have sent in Janet Reno, same way he did last time Texas had an explosive situation.

But no, the President kept out of it. He abstained.

He fiddled while Dallas burned. Or played the sax. America’s team is having a leadership crisis. Football is vital to the American way of life. It is at least as important as baseball, which George Will finds time to write about.

In January, underneath a red-gray Confederate flag at Atlanta, the Cowboys of the Apocalypse rode to their second consecutive Super Bowl championship. They did so even with quarterback Troy Aikman having recently suffered a concussion that left him so confused, he thought Lorrie Morgan did triple flips and Nancy Kerrigan sang country songs.


Jerry Jones, once again, contributed to the Cowboys’ success. He signed their checks.

As with a lot of rich boys with their toys, ol’ Jer continues to believe Owner Knows Best. He almost lost Emmitt Smith, the stallion. Now he has lost Jimmy Johnson, the foreman. I’m afraid the Cowboy owner is what is known around Texas as a dang fool.

In the dumb-stunts department, Jerry Jones and Leon Lett are now square at two apiece. Yet all Leon ever loses is the football. Jerry loses people.

President and Mrs. Clinton, I do appreciate that y’all have a lot else to do. World peace is important. Health care is important. Razorback basketball is important.


But America’s team is in more turmoil than, well, America.

Jerry Jones is an old Arkansas boy. Go talk some sense into him.

* WHO’S TO BLAME?: There is fault on both sides, but one real villain. Bill Plaschke’s commentary: C5