Bill Conlin: For Eagles, nuggets left in Dallas weren't golden

WHEN I'M KING of the world . . .

Eagles owner Jeffrey Lurie and contract Mandrake Joe Banner will take a long, hard look at the level of leadership emanating from the coaches' room and the room where the big fellows dress . . . Oh, they've looked plenty of times before. Then declared the product on the field the NFL gold standard. Or most recently, put a bull's-eye on the franchise by calling the core group that went to Lehigh last summer the best and deepest of the Andy Reid/

Donovan McNabb decade.

Well, with gold pushing $1,200 an ounce, the inglorious ingots that showed up in the Big Jones Sunday for the most important game of the season weren't worth a truckload of plugged nickels. In the closest thing you will ever see to a public humiliation in the NFL - yes, even worse than the going-nowhere Giants' back-to-back group surrenders - the Cowboys manhandled the Eagles with an almost insolent ease. Or to paraphrase McNabb, it was the 'Boys against the boys. Truth be told, from the old boys' coaching, to the manhandled veterans, all the way down to the sweet Birds of youth referenced by Shotgun McNabb, it was a team effort. A bad team effort.

The Any-Given-Sunday theme has been the NFL's aura since Pete Rozelle attempted to handicap the standings with personnel, scheduling and economic hocus-pocus that would theoretically make it possible for even teams run by blithering idiots - the Bidwill Cardinals, Culverhouse Bucs and Sullivan Patriots, for example - to wind up in the generously structured playoffs, or even in Rozelle's crown jewel, the Super Bowl.

There is an old baseball scouts' saying: "You can't shine [bleep]." Sooner or later, as the last teams standing are sent home, talent, organization, health, heart and depth eventually win the day. So don't expect to see Big Red or his quarterback pull any rabbits out of the hat. It will take a total collapse by a superior Dallas team to reverse what appears to be all but written.

Do I believe in miracles? Yes. Just not miracles of the level of the loaves and fishes or Lazarus rising from the dead.

When I'm King of the World . . .

All buildings under the jurisdiction of an intercollegiate athletic department containing fewer than 300 square feet will be required to post a warning: "This structure is not to be used for any medical purpose, including post-head trauma or other injuries athletes might incur during competition or practice for competition" . . . Any violation will be punishable by the head coach of the sport getting his sorry butt canned.

Admit it, you've never seen a holiday season quite like the one that began with the Thanksgiving image of Tiger Woods careening into perhaps the most precipitous free fall of any famous athlete in history not accused of multiple murders.

Then, on Dec. 16, a domestic dispute between Bengals wideout Chris Henry and his fiancee turned shockingly tragic when he jumped or fell from the bed of a pickup truck allegedly driven by the woman. He was killed.

Just weeks after University of Kansas football coach Mark Mangino resigned after allegedly physically and verbally abusing players, the Mike Leach firestorm swept through the upswinging Texas Tech program. And this one was a "He did what?" stunner. Hey, normal treatment for a player medically cleared for a return to practice following a possible concussion does not include a session of confinement in a dark shed under the "protective" watch of several team trainers. That type of therapy just doesn't show up in the New England Journal of Medicine.

The recipient of the little slice of life in the Gulag Archipelago was Adam James, son of ESPN football analyst Craig James and nephew of former Phillies outfielder Chris James. College coaches deal with unhappy dads who want more playing time for their sons all the time without retaliation. Remember the flap surrounding Penn State quarterback Steve Joachim and his boisterous dad, Walt, who constantly and publicly criticized Joe Paterno's conservative offensive style?

Truly a December to remember. I suppose this month will bring the lawsuits. That bellowing in the background is an attorney singing "Happy Days Are Here Again."

When I'm King of the World . . .

Let's see. Cliff Lee was 36-16 the past two seasons. Roy Halladay was 37-21. That's a plus-1 in wins and a minus-5 in losses for an overall minus-4. Give Halladay an edge for having a somewhat lower ERA while pitching in baseball's toughest division, the American League East.

All things considered, however, including Lee's edge in age, these aces are about as closely paired as the aces of spades and hearts in a newly opened deck of cards. When Ruben Amaro Jr. said in the days after the biggest trade of the MLB offseason, "It was a baseball decision," his hard-edged, thin-lipped tone really seemed to be saying, "It was a money decision."

Meanwhile, you're probably thrilled with a report, sort of denied by Phils Minister of Foreign Affairs Sal Agostinelli, that a leadoff-type Taiwanese college outfielder was offered $100,000 to come over to start in the low minors. Whatever happened to Il Kim and Seung Lee?

I don't know much about reliever Danys Baez except that Baltimore paid him $7,166,666 last year to set up for a team that lost 98 games. I thought the New Phillies were past picking through the remnant table in the bargain basement. *

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