“I am the way into the city of woe, I am the way into eternal pain, I am the way to go among the lost.” —Dante Alighieri, Inferno , 1321 “People either love us or hate us, but the most important thing is to be relevant.” — Jerry Jones, from his helicopter, 2016 About a quarter-mile walk from AT&T Stadium, the Arlington spaceship that the Dallas Cowboys call home, the man I’d been looking for stood in a parking lot hidden beneath shoulder pads, a glittering luchador mask, leather cowboy boots, and jingling spurs.
He was born Miguel, but on Sundays hardly anyone calls him that. I got blank stares when I dropped his government name as I sought him out at the pregame tailgate. Things changed for the better when I referenced his online handle, “Supercowboy.
” That’s when heads started bobbing and pointer fingers signaled past a grill and a few coolers, to the masked man himself, resplendent in silver and blue uniform—save for a camo “Salute to Service” Dallas jersey. “It’s pretty hot for November,” he said, greeting me under a white tent. “I got to stay out of the sun, or I’m going to start cooking a little bit.
” Born in the U.S. and raised between Tijuana and Los Angeles, Miguel started donning the ensemble on game days in the Golden State, incorporating game-replica pants and Old West footwear after moving to Texas in 2019.
The accoutrements include arm sleeves with both the American and Mexican flags, a pair of Cowboys Band-Aids placed like .
