Tony Romo seems like an unbelievably nice man, and I think that made him hard to love. This isn’t to say there is anything wrong with being friendly — we should strive to be nice to people, I think — but because Romo was devoid of anything else that made him stand out, he came to be defined by his failings, and that’s bogus.
Romo was a great NFL quarterback. His numbers could put him in the Hall of Fame. He finished his career (assuming it is really, truly finished) 29th all-time in passing yards, 21st all-time in passing touchdowns, and fourth (!) with a 97.1 passer rating, behind only Aaron Rodgers, Tom Brady, and Russell Wilson. Romo did that as an undrafted player who was given no preferential treatment on his way to assuming the helm of America’s most scrutinized franchise.
Romo would be the perfect NFL hero if he had ever been outstanding at anything. He never led the league in passing yards or touchdowns or really came close to doing so on a consistent basis — Romo was among the top 10 most productive passers in four of the seven seasons in which he started at least 13 games.
Worse, for anyone really compelled to make a case against Romo, was the fact that he never really won much. The Cowboys were 2-4 in the playoffs under Romo, and though he wasn’t terrible in those six outings, he never had the sort of performance that solidifies a quarterback as a Great One. Some fan bases would be thrilled about wild card wins, but not Dallas.
Absent a resume, we defined Romo by his big moments, and those were so cruel. That botched snap was important:
I don’t think Romo’s reputation ever recovered from that. If he had gotten the hold down and Martin Gramatica had made the kick late against the Seahawks, Romo and the Cowboys likely would have won his first-ever playoff appearance. Then even if Dallas lost in routine fashion the next game, at least Romo wouldn’t have had to spend the following months being made out to be the NFL’s most affable, hapless loser — Charlie Brown, basically.
That stupid interception was so … Romo:
Romo threw for a career-high 506 yards and five touchdowns in a late afternoon punch-drunk barnburner against the Denver Broncos in 2013. He and Peyton Manning combined for 920 yards passing, as the Broncos chased down a double-digit lead, took a 15-point advantage of their own, then allowed the Cowboys to whittle it away. The Broncos scored 10 straight points in the last 2:39 to win by three. Scientists would later claim this was the same game Homer Simpson was watching that time he skipped church.
And Romo’s brain — just before the two-minute warning of a 48-48 game, after playing the game of his life — went *galorp* and forced him to rush a second-and-16 throw into double coverage for an interception. Can you guess what the headlines were after that defense-less mess?
Romo Screws Up Again was a pretty easy meme, but it’s not like he gave anyone any other fodder. He never said anything controversial or did anything controversial except play for a football team (and date a famous person) that habitually put him in the limelight.
Romo was pretty bad at manufacturing controversy for as often as he seemed to be at the center of it. He couldn’t even make last season’s Dak Prescott conundrum all that interesting. When he was finally healthy to return last season — in the midst of the rookie’s breakout — Romo ended any debate with one of the most heartbreaking, honest, and gracious statements an athlete can make in that situation, beginning with the admission that Prescott “earned the right to be our quarterback.”
Romo added, “You almost feel like an outsider. Coaches are sympathetic but they still have to coach and you’re not there. It’s a dark place. Probably the darkest it’s ever been. You’re sad and down and out and you ask yourself, ‘why did this have to happen?’”
Romo also recalled being in a similar position to what Prescott is in now.
“I was that kid once, stepping in and having to prove yourself,” Romo said. “If I remember one thing from back then, it’s the people that helped me when I was young, and if I can be that to Dak, I will be moving forward.”
Romo eased Prescott into a full-time starter’s role then stepped away from the game completely, assuring that a ROMO V. PRESCOTT GRUDGE MATCH won’t take place in 2017. And to make it easier for everyone, he gave no big statement or press conference.
Romo has been the subject of some form of speculation for a solid seven months now, speculation that he never felt should subsist longer than it needed to. He even quieted rumors that he may hop back in the game by showing off how happy he already is at his new job:
He is off to a world where bright affability is truly a virtue, in place of a man who could never nail down the “bright” part. Romo seems like he could be a good announcer once he, y’know, actually starts doing it. In the meantime, this piece won’t be the only one praising Romo at an outlet that cheerfully made fun of him for years.
That’s sort of the deal with being a nice, innocuous fella: People only think to praise you when you’re gone. How Romo is ultimately remembered remains to be seen. His Hall of Fame case isn’t great without a Super Bowl, even though he was much more prolific than Roger Staubach or Troy Aikman, two Cowboys quarterbacks who are in Canton.
More likely, Romo will be one of the most forgettably great quarterbacks we have ever seen — someone who no one could hate but was never deeply loved, like that Best Picture winner that didn’t stand the test of time. Romo is The English Patient, basically.
Time will do what it will, and Romo will go from a semi-endearing quarterback to the next broadcast voice we complain about. That’s not really fair, but then again, we could muster the energy to stop that mental process from happening, and we probably won’t. Romo was, and is, and will be an easy target.
But while he is in transition — and, for once, while we’re all appreciating the fella he was — let’s use this short time together to state, for the record, that Romo was pretty damn good at football and deserving of all the love he gets.
