By Tom Danehy THIS IS HOW much I despise the Dallas Cowboys. I had a chance to go to the Super Bowl--in fact, I had two chances, via press pass and a free ticket--and I ended up not going for fear I'd have to sit next to some Cowboy fan named Jim Bob Bubba (or maybe Junior) who'd spend the day telling me about how he and his wife/cousin Earlene had made a fortune in the oil bidness. If Iraq declared war on the Dallas Cowboys, I'd take Saddam Hussein and the points. No, let me put it this way: I'd rather the Michigan Wolverines win the NCAA basketball championship than the Dallas Cowboys win another NFL title. And it's not because the Dallas players are all jerks. They are, of course, but that's beside the point. What I can't stand is the average Dallas Cowboy fan. See, with the Michigan Wolverines, the average fan is a poor, misguided kid who hasn't had proper guidance in his life and somehow got turned around to the point where he thinks looking cool is better than playing smart. That kind of kid will come around sooner or later. And if he doesn't, maybe he'll learn a skill in prison. But Cowboy fans are often (ostensibly) adults. Loud, boorish, obnoxious, insufferable adults. Now I'm going to have to put up with them for a whole year. And just my luck, it's a leap year, so I'm going to have to suffer through an extra day this year. It's just not fair. Last Sunday had held such promise, but dissolved into a nightmare. Here's how it went: 11:00 a.m. I'd already been up for several hours, but the day officially began when they threw the ball up to start the Suns-Bulls game. Bulls fans are well on their way to becoming Dallas Fans Lite. 11:06 a.m. The Bulls jump out to a 7-0 lead. I'm one of those guys who felt the Suns should have won at least one and possibly all of the last three NBA titles. Right now I'm hoping they won't get shut out. 12:12 p.m. Get in the car and head for 12:30 Mass. The Suns are playing really well, but Steve Kerr is keeping the Bulls in the game. I love Steve Kerr, but it'd be okay if he had an off day against the Suns. 1:47 p.m. The Suns played tough but lost a close one. Oh well, I didn't expect to have both the Suns and Steelers win on the same day. I'll just settle for the big one. 4:23 p.m. The game starts late because the Cowboys are jockeying for position in the tunnels leading to the field. And now, because of that, Friends will start late. What else can go wrong? 4:30 p.m. The Cowboys score a quick field goal. The graphic shows the team that scored first won 21 of the first 29 Super Bowls. Oh well, I guess I can start watching the commercials now. 4:37 p.m. There's a cool one from Pepsi. It has like an in-store camera feel to it. A Coke delivery guy stocks the Coke display, then tries to sneak a Pepsi and all the cans fall out, drawing a crowd. I just realized I'm describing a commercial to you. Pop culture has now consumed a majority share of my brain. 4:44 p.m. Deion Sanders makes a pass reception. I hate Deion Sanders. I hate his mama. I'd probably hate his daddy, if he had a daddy. All he's got is a list of suspects. Now, all you letter writers, when you write in accusing me of racism, try to remember that jerks, like good neighbors, come in all colors. This particular jerk, just by coincidence, happens to be black. 5:01 p.m. Aaaaarrrggghhh! They have a new one of those Budweiser frog commercials. Those may be the worst commercials of all time. They make those guys dancing on the Jerry Wall commercials look like they're in a Truffaut film. Beer drinkers, please tell me: How much of that horse urine do you have to drink before those frogs start making sense? 5:06 p.m. They show Deion missing a tackle and grabbing nothing but air. Like that's news. In order to tackle somebody, one needs stones. 5:55 p.m. The Steelers are hanging tough. I get the feeling they're going to break my heart. 6:04 p.m. Stampede! That low rumbling you hear is everyone in America rushing from their living rooms so they won't have to watch Diana Ross sing at halftime. Is there a scuzzier singer in the whole wide world? She makes Madonna look respectable. I once read an interview with Ross in Vanity Fair. During the interview, Sen. Alphonse D'Amato walked up to her table and said hello. When he left, Ross turned to the interviewer and said, "All the really important people are my fans." Do you know why Vanity Fair had that interview published in Braille? So blind people could hate her, too. 6:44 p.m. The ref on the sideline gives the Cowboys a TD when it was clear to everyone in the world that Emmitt Smith had been stopped short of the goal line. That's just what the Cowboys need--a break from the refs. 6:58 p.m. The camera focuses on a Cowboy cheerleader as she auditions for Showgirls 2. Why do most of the Cowboy cheerleaders look like they work for a guy named T-Bone who wears orange suits and drives around in a purple Caddy? 7:14 p.m. That same ref now makes a mistake costing the Steelers a touchdown. Bam Morris had obviously scored, but the ref spots the ball at the one-yard line. Gee, I hope the Steelers cover the point spread, if for no other reason so that ref loses his shirt in Vegas. 7:25 p.m. The Steelers have cut the lead to 20-17. They've got all the momentum. The only way they could lose this thing now is if Neil O'Donnell were to throw another horrible pass like the one that got intercepted in the first half. Naw, that'll never hap... 11:47 p.m. The day's almost over. I've had worse. Or maybe not. The bullet did go clean through that one time and didn't touch any major organs. So that makes the two days about the same. Come to think of it, the day I got shot, Diana Ross was nowhere in sight. Boy, this day sucks.

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