There are a lot of reasons the Atlanta Falcons could point to for losing to the Cowboys yesterday. They could point to the fact that they gave up over 400 yards of total offense. They could point to the fact that they failed to stop the now smoking-red-hot Miles Austin. They could point to the fact that their supposed franchise QB, Matty Ryan, got outplayed at every turn by the besieged Tony Romo. They could point to all that and more.
Instead, the Falcons have decided to point their ire squarely in one place: Right at our precious sun. Mike Florio at ProFootballTalk explains:
Atlanta Falcons coach Mike Smith is complaining during today's game at Dallas that the sun is shining through the end zone windows and directly into his players' eyes, affecting their play.
GASP! OH NO! Poor Atlanta Falcons. Who knew that, in addition to playing the Cowboys, they’d also be competing against a GIGANTIC AND VERY BRIGHT BALL OF CELESTIAL FIRE? It’s not fair! THERE’S NO SUN IN THE GEORGIA DOME! Who could possibly play sports in such inhospitably sunny conditions? THIS IS AN OUTRAGE! THAT SUN COULD GIVE THEM SKIN CANCER! PETER KING SAYS WE SHOULD RESPECT THE SUN!
To be fair to the Falcons, that sun DID look pretty damn bright on TV. There was enough glare coming from those windows that I thought I was looking at a digital stadium banner for Kay Jewelers. You know Jerry is capable of such things. But that’s about the limits of my sympathy, given that the teams switched sides each quarter, and that eye black was freely available to both teams at all times.
But could a bit of gamesmanship be afoot? Florio says:
According to Troy Aikman, who's calling today's Falcons-Cowboys game for Fox, a curtain is supposed to be drawn to prevent sunlight from affecting the players. For some reason, that curtain remained open.
Oh, that little rascal Jerry Jones. Opening his megacurtain, presumably using some very expensive pulley, to blind those Falcons. Florio suggests that Curtaingate could be a lingering concern at Cowboys Stadium. I disagree. When your secondary gets its ass pasted as thoroughly as Atlanta’s did, you have no right to complain about the big orange marble in the sky.