In a press conference that smelled faintly of leather and late-night reruns, Cowboys legend Troy Aikman revealed he’d be shocked by any hypothetical contract scenario surrounding Micah Parsons. The newsroom immediately declared it the most essential revelation since someone discovered a lemonade stand could be a business model.

Spectators watching the video feed said the star signal caller looked equal parts sage and stunned, as if the playbook suddenly grew teeth. He offered no grand numbers, just a simple line on what would constitute a jaw-to-floor surprise.

Aikman added that the only thing more unpredictable than a modern contract is a locker room prank that ends well. That line landed with the soft thud of a football hitting a helmet.

Analysts joked that the contract drama could make the NFC East feel like a spreadsheet with a pulse. If you squint, the cap table resembles a highlight reel that has learned to talk.

Cowboys executives downplayed the seriousness, offering a statement that read like a fortune cookie with better lighting. The statement managed to sound profound while also suggesting the drama was largely theatrical.

Parsons is described as the human embodiment of a player whose value spikes every time the cap sees sunlight. The fandom has started treating his deal like a season finale with commercials.

The gossip even trended on social media, where memes replaced numbers and fans debated the color of the ink in the contract margins. The sheer speed of the discourse made a message board feel like a speed-dating event for spreadsheets.

Aikman’s media tour included a stop at a charity event, where he urged fans to focus on fundamentals rather than the arithmetic of cash flows. He reminded people that touchdowns are earned, not amortized.

During a break, a reporter asked if he was fully confident Parsons would stay in Dallas. He replied he was cautiously optimistic, delivering the line with a parental warning vibe and a shopping list that included a ‘custom football helmets’ upgrade.

Parsons responded with a shrug and the kind of smile that suggests a million sack celebrations are not far away. He then hinted that his agent was negotiating primarily with the coffee machine.

Team officials reportedly told associates they would not mock the contract process with a drum line, despite the temptation. They said the real drumroll would be the sound of the salary cap adjusting itself.

The press release from the franchise promised transparency, a word that now sounds like a marketing campaign for a transparent locker room door. Fans, meanwhile, speculated about whether a spreadsheet could ever love a football.

Aikman drew a line between media theater and on-field theater, insisting the real drama is always on the field. He argued that numbers are useful only when they don’t overpower the game plan.

Fans at home scavenged for gear to cope with the tension, some surfed online for a ‘pro-grade kicking tee’ to practice clutch kicks in front of the TV. The idea of a tee becoming a franchise centerpiece felt ripe for a meme.

Sports economists, who are actually people who studied spreadsheets for fun, declared that any contract talk would be a bargaining test for the ages. They cautioned that the crosstabs might glow brighter than a star on draft night.

Parsons’ agents reportedly prepared a side of popcorn for negotiations, a metaphor they’ve used to evoke sugar and spice without actually adding spice to the numbers. Sources say the team might feed him popcorn to keep him calm during the process.

Meanwhile, local bookstores reported a spike in self-help guides on negotiation and endurance. One title promises to turn a cap hit into a light snack with the right mindset.

Mock awards shows replaced actual metrics with trophy-case analogies. The statue may be shiny, but the numbers underneath are still scribbles.

Aikman, who retired with a quiet dignity, teased that the modern contract game has more plot twists than a weekly dramatization. He insisted he was simply observing, not auditioning for a new role as a payroll wizard.

The Cowboys, for their part, promised to keep the drama contained to the practice fields and the marketing department, where comic relief has annual contracts too. The organization also hinted that any true blockbuster would be measured in wins, not widgets.

Either way, the press will keep chasing the what-if like a dog after a mechanical tail. The internet, meanwhile, will pretend to understand the nuance of amortization and pretend to care.

Parsons will continue to loom in the background, while the stadium lights pretend they’re a courtroom and the fans pretend to be jurors of a saga without a verdict.