'I'm A Great Coach!' Cowboys' Brian Schottenheimer Speaks Out On Criticism

"I've got strong shoulders. I know what a great coach I am.''

That's the essence of this week's presentation theme from beleaguered Dallas Cowboys coach Brian Schottenheimer, who is struggling desperately to use his "strength'' and "greatness'' to shove this disappointing 2-4 program steered in the right direction.

And when I review Schotty-on-Schotty, I can't help but flash back to Stuart Smalley, the old "Saturday Night Live'' self-help guru character played by Al Franken, who would look into the mirror (or, on one occasion, look into the soul of Michael Jordan) and gleefully proclaim ...

"I'm good enough, I'm smart enough, and doggone it, people like me!''

"Self-help''? Sure. In addition to being on a two-game losting streak, Schottenheimer is coming off a 7-9-1 season, is 9-13-1 overall and in his last 11 games is 3-8.

So he and his Cowboys will take any kind of help you've got.

Too often for my tastes, Schottenheimer - maybe simply being "sincere and authentic,'' which he loves to tout as his greatest traits - has had to meet the media after a game to acknowledge that he needs to be better.

He's even graded himself a couple of times as an "F.''

Nobody is arguing that.

Indeed, after the back-to-back losses to the Tampa Bay Bucs and Green Bay Packers - games in which in which Schottenheimer's offense, defense and coaching staff looked overmatched - the pitchforks and torches have come out.

In this space, we've suggested that given the woeful state of the NFC East, Schottenheimer failing lead Dallas to a win of it is a fireable offense (see below).

And yes, Schotty hears it all.

His response?

"It comes with the territory," Schottenheimer said of the criticism. "I think some of it is deserved. We got to play better. I got to coach better. When you grow up in a family that your dad's a head coach for over 20 years, you understand that this is part of the job description.

"No one likes it. I block out most of it. Some of it gets to me. But I've got strong shoulders. I know what a great coach I am. I know what this team is capable of, and that's what I focus on."

As usual - and to his credit - there's more sincerity and authenticity.

He's admitting that some of the heat is deserved; it cannot be argued otherwise.

He's admitting that it gets to him; how could it not?

But ...

The "I'm a great coach'' oration comes across as some sort of self-affirmation exercise, as if he's struggling with "Imposter Syndrome'' and trying to convince himself.

Or convince you.

Or convince a maybe-soon-to-be-impatient Jerry Jones.

Since taking over from Mike McCarthy, Schotty is 9-13-1.

That isn't what a "great coach'' does.

How do we measure a "great coach''? I've often said that the "best'' coach in America might be working at some obscure high school in some obscure place but his record isn't very good so nobody knows or cares.

The way - unfairly or not - we measure "coaching greatness'' is results. Dallas knows one when it sees it ... but only after the results are on the scoreboard.

We didn't know Tom Landry was a great coach until it was revealed by his record.

We didn't know Jimmy Johnson was a great coach until it was revealed by his record.

We knew Bill Parcells was a great coach because his resume established his greatness before he got here.

And speaking of Parcells ... He used to say, "You are what your record says you are,'' a catchphrase as famous in NFL lore as Stuart Smalley's words are in "SNL'' lore.

Parcells' chestnut is the truth.

"I'm a great coach'' is something you need your wife to nod her head at, something your mirror says back to you, something tell yourself when you're lying in bed at night, staring at the ceiling, wondering how the hell you keep losing games.

But the "sincere and authentic'' truth? 

Your wife, your mirror and your ceiling can't really tell if you're "a great coach.''

Only the scoreboard can do that.