First Brokeback Mountain, now this.  It has certainly been a tough year for cowboy stereotypes.  You see, Emmitt Smith, the NFL’s all time leading rusher, has exchanged his number twenty-two for a tutu. 

It has recently come to my attention that the former Dallas running back has been competing in a weekly competition on ABC’s Dancing with the Stars.  That’s right: the athlete who used to tip-toe past Sapp suddenly prefers tap.  The All-Pro who used to rumble through defenses now rumbas.  Apparently the man with one of the NFL’s all time greatest stiff arms also likes to soft shoe.              

I would like to tell you that this is an isolated incident, but I’ve also been informed that Jerry Rice (the NFL’s all time leader in receptions) – and who some believe is the greatest football player of all-time – has appeared on this same show.  Yes, you heard correctly: the man who amassed 189 career touchdowns without performing any silly end zone dances was simply saving them all up for one spectacularly embarrassing one involving sequined suspenders.    

Now far be it from me to tell a guy like Emmitt Smith what he can and can’t do.  After all there would be a lot of irony in celebrating a man for creating his own path on the football field and then mocking him for doing the same thing off of it.  But I have to admit there is a small part of me that would like to see the league delay Smith’s Hall of Fame enshrinement until this all fades from memory.  After all, first ballot and ballet have traditionally been on opposite ends of the masculinity spectrum.

But for whatever reason, Smith decided to risk his reputation and challenge that very convention.  Maybe he was bored.  Maybe he longed to be introduced as something other than “former NFL running back.”  Perhaps he simply loves to dance.  No matter the contributing factors, Smith seems happy, so good for him. 

I guess I just can’t see why a bruising halfback would want to prance around wearing a costume covering only half his back.  Somehow waltzing to Sinatra seems a little more ordinary than whizzing past Strahan.  Far be it from me to judge anyone, it’s just that I prefer the image of Smith striding behind Nate Newton to the one of him skipping to Olivia Newton John.     

Maybe the real story here is that the life of a sports star is not all we make it out to be.  After all, an idol lives a fairly stationary existence despite all the worship it receives.  If the lure of a reality show spotlight was enough to pull Smith out of his autograph show temple, it can’t be all that great in there.  So while I can’t agree with where he is going, I guess I can’t blame him for wanting to venture someplace else. 

So dance on Emmitt Smith.  Skip and clap and sashay and parade around all you want.  Your legacy belongs to you and no one else.  If you prefer formal balls to footballs, that is your prerogative.  There are probably a whole bunch of ladies applauding your decision.  Just know that when the remote is in my hand, I prefer Foxborough to the foxtrot.