Why Jerry Jones makes America's Team a must-see Cowboy movie, flaws and all
JERRY'S WORLD: Dallas Cowboys owner Jerry Jones talks with fans before the Cowboys play the Detroit Lions at AT&T Stadium on October 13, 2024 in Arlington, Texas. (Photo by Sam Hodde/Getty Images)
It is the 1990 Dallas Cowboys training camp and players are running endline to endline, relentlessly. Sixteen times, up and down, sprint a mile. Don't stop. Man up. Midway through, a young hopeful collapses on his back: “Sir, I have asthma.” Two-time Super Bowl champion coach and Pro Football Hall of Famer Jimmy Johnson descended like a hawk. In his macho code, there is no tolerance for letting up.
“Asthma my ass,” the coach bellows, as players keep dashing behind him and the assembled media look on. “Get over there on that other field and have some asthma. You are on the wrong field to have asthma. ‘I lie on my ass.’ Get outta here!”
It is at this point that the new Netflix docuseries about the Texas NFL team, titled , sets its terms. A story like this needs a central character to double as hero and villain. Johnson, now 82 and still magnetic on camera, is more than willing to play both parts.
After all, this is the man who bonded with star quarterback Troy Aikman over a shared passion for aquariums. Not the tranquil flow of movement, he insists, but the predators hunting, fish eating fish.
“They way we practiced,” he says with the hint of a smile, “You can’t do today.” In the middle of the session, a rookie running back is cut on the spot. When the backup running back fumbled the ball twice in an end-of-season game, he was also cut. The idea that cutting a player is one of the hardest things a coach can do? Not in his book. “I don’t think it is.”
Ever since The Last Dance inspired a raft of copycats, Netflix has been pursuing stories like this. Many of those duplicates have been complete duds. This is far from that. It’s an American football twist on the Michael Jordan–inspired series, for better and for worse.
The star of the show is Jerry Jones, the owner and general manager. The franchise he bought for $140 million in 1989 is now valued at north of $10 billion. The NFL’s most conspicuous owner recounts his rise from Arkansas oilman to billionaire mogul. He sits for over 40 hours of interviews and lets the cameras roam through the 2023 season. The project is produced by NFL Films and Skydance Media. Netflix is dealing its latest hand in pursuit of another cultural phenomenon to rival the Chicago Bulls saga.
Much of its energy comes from the cast of characters and the blockbuster quotes. From the 43rd president George W. Bush, explaining why Dallas needed football: “When John Kennedy was shot here, Dallas was condemned. It became very apparent there was a need to change the image of Dallas.” To ‘The Playmaker’, Cowboys legend Michael Irvin, on his vocation: “Listen, I was born to play wide receiver. When I was born, the doctor tried to spank me. I caught his hands.”
The echoes of The Last Dance do not stop there. That series was a welcome fix in the Covid wasteland of empty calendars. Dropping these episodes in the midst of August was a shrewd choice.
The involvement of ownership comes at a cost too. Episode one and episode six, with a sharp dive into the fraught relationship between Aikman and coach Barry Switzer as well as Jones’s uneasy dance with commissioner Paul Tagliabue, hint at a the possibility this could be a stone-cold classic.
The fact that quality is sacrificed for quantity with eight episodes, the third dragging through the college playing days of Jones and Johnson, is a fatal flaw.
American sport has always lived in a complicated marriage with its owners. On those shores, nothing jars more than the sight of suits stepping forward on stage to hoist trophies. Jones, to his credit, is unabashed in the grotesquery of it all. This is a fine line the best sports documentaries often have to navigate. What they put on camera can be compelling and raw and a little messy.
The Cowboys’ ownership certainly benefits from a timely reminder of their past success. The team is about to enter its 30th season since winning a Super Bowl. Defensive star Micah Parsons is at the centre of a summer controversy, having demanded a trade. Even if the film wasn’t entirely flattering, and much of it is, it still delivers the most prized currency in this market: attention.
Despite the sweeping shots of helicopter rides and exaggeration when it comes to influence in key trades, Jones is still willing to spell out his moral code. He knows the Cowboys are a soap opera, a 365-day spectacle in a 162-day long league. All publicity is good publicity. If they aren’t getting that interest, he will manufacture it.
When it comes to players, the priority is simple: can they play? Consider this the opposite of the ‘no dickheads policy’.
“The physical and mental aspect of our game is very complicated,” says Jones at one point. “You’ve even heard it said, ‘you can’t play football successfully with Sunday school teachers.’ So, if you went around and try to get the player with the perfect character, you’ve given yourself a handicap that isn’t necessary. In fact, flawed individuals are some of my greatest role models.”
At the heart of it, this is the essence of this world. The only thing that matters is whether you’re still watching.





