The Roy Williams that I remember cast an intimidating defensive presence.
He terrorized quarterbacks. He stopped ball carriers in their tracks. He could single-handedly dominate even an Oklahoma-Texas game.
Whatever happened to that Roy Williams?
His name came up on Sirius Radio's NFL channel last week, and it wasn't the kind of blurb that you print out and show your mom for Mother's Day.
According to teammate Greg Ellis, speaking to Sirius, "Roy told me in training camp, 'Greg, this defense does not fit me. I don't fit in well with this defense at all.'"
The 2007 season, Ellis said, proved Williams correct.
Gee, we hardly noticed.
Don't shoot the messenger on this. Ellis has always tried to be a good teammate and a cooperative interview. His own job insecurities cost him some fan support, but Ellis worked hard to reinvent himself and again become a valuable contributor on the Cowboys' defense.
He wants Williams to remain a teammate, Ellis told the Star-Telegram by phone later that day. He said he was trying to defend Williams, not find him another job.
The Roy Williams that I remember, however, didn't need any teammates to defend him. The Roy Williams that I remember intimidated pass receivers. He didn't run away from them.
If he thinks the Phillips 3-4 defense doesn't fit his skill set -- limited as it has become -- he's stuck, because Jerry Jones isn't going to fire Wade Phillips to accommodate Roy Williams. Not this Roy Williams.
Besides, Williams confessed to not being comfortable in the previous head coach's defense. So what's the deal?
Good, unselfish football players find a way to adjust. Has Williams even made the effort?
He blames the media for poisoning the fans' minds, but let's go to the videotape. The whole league now knows that Roy Williams can't cover anyone man-to-man.
Which would be excusable, sort of, if he wasn't getting beat over the top in zone coverage so often, too.
Williams wants a new defense. Cowboys fans would prefer the old Williams.
The one who actually made tackles at or behind the line of scrimmage. The one that wasn't always trailing plays, so that he could make his signature horse-collar tackle. The one who used to take on opposing blockers and bury them.
Williams' new signature move? The turned shoulder. Quickly followed by a running back racing past.
What happened? He used to be a great football player. Now, he's the opposing quarterback's favorite target.
In the radio interview, Ellis revealed that Williams has been working out on his own at Valley Ranch, early on weekday mornings before most players arrive.
Curiouser and curiouser.
It leads you to believe that Williams, in his Cowboy heart, has checked out. His isolation -- unless he has a morning milk delivery route that he has to get to -- suggests that he doesn't feel he's a part of the team, particularly its current defense.
It would be sad, except that Williams has done little to foster sympathy, other than blame the media. He also signed a five-year, $25-million contract extension, which binds him to the Cowboys through 2010.
Trading Williams would bring roughly a $6-million hit on the franchise's salary cap. Releasing him outright would reduce the figure to around $4 million, if my math is correct.
Players who have that size of a bite on the team's payroll need to be contributing, not complaining.
What happened?
One theory is that Williams found religion, which made him a kinder, gentler man, but a meeker and more confused football player. But let's not blame The Big Defensive Coordinator in the Sky for the slippage in Williams' play, shall we? There are lots of fierce Christians who still are fierce football players.
The other theory came long ago from legendary fight manager Angelo Dundee. During an interview, Angelo innocently asked me if I had ever stepped into a boxing ring.
"Not unless it was by accident," I think I answered.
Something happens to some people, Dundee explained, when they get hit hard -- really clocked -- for the first time. Hit a guy flush on the chin, Angelo said, and he becomes a changed man.
The second theory on Roy Williams, therefore, is that one bright Sunday he delivered a blow so fierce that its memory made him fear for an encore.
A steady string of horse collars and turned shoulders have followed.
And now he says the Cowboys' defense doesn't fit him?
Maybe not. It only comes in man's sizes.
