BB.COWBOYS PAIN: CeeDee Lamb CRYING AT PRESS CONFERENCE – “I STILL HEAR HIS VOICE EVERY MORNING” – TEAM COMMITS “KNEELAND IN THE HEART” BRACELETS FOR RAIDERS!

FRISCO, Texas – The Dallas Cowboys’ practice facility, usually a symphony of shoulder pads cracking and play-call echoes, fell into a hush on Thursday that felt almost sacred. In the media room, under the glare of camera lights, star wide receiver CeeDee Lamb broke down in uncontrollable sobs while clutching a worn No. 94 jersey. The nameplate read KNEELAND. What began as a routine post-practice press conference morphed into a raw, collective mourning for Marshawn Kneeland, the rookie defensive end whose life was tragically cut short in a single-car accident on Interstate 35E just 48 hours earlier.

“I still hear his voice every morning,” Lamb managed between heaving breaths, his voice cracking like a teenager’s. “He’d burst into the receiver room at 6:15 sharp, yelling, ‘CeeDee, you ready to eat today or what?’ Every. Single. Day.” The All-Pro’s eyes, red-rimmed and glassy, scanned the room as if searching for Kneeland’s 6-foot-3 frame among the reporters. “Now it’s just… silence.”

Kneeland, 23, a third-round pick out of Western Michigan, had quickly become the heartbeat of Dallas’ defensive line room. Known for his relentless motor and infectious laugh that could disarm even the gruffest veteran, the Milwaukee native recorded 2.5 sacks in limited snaps this season before the crash that claimed his life early Tuesday morning. Police reports indicate his pickup truck hydroplaned during a heavy rainstorm, striking a guardrail at approximately 2:17 a.m. He was pronounced dead at the scene.

FROM LOCKER ROOM PRANKS TO LOCKER ROOM PRAYERS

The stories poured out like grief itself—uncontrollable and overwhelming. Quarterback Dak Prescott, usually stoic behind the podium, wiped away tears while recounting Kneeland’s rookie initiation. “He had to sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Micah Parsons in the shower,” Prescott said, forcing a smile that never reached his eyes. “Kid couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket, but he belted it out like he was at Carnegie Hall. We were all crying—laughing then. This is… different crying.”

Defensive coordinator Mike Zimmer, the grizzled veteran of a thousand locker rooms, stood uncharacteristically still. “He reminded me of a young Jared Allen,” Zimmer said, referencing the former Viking who terrorized quarterbacks with both sacks and personality. “Same motor. Same joy. But Marshawn? He had this… light. You felt better just being around him.”

The tragedy has rippled through every corner of The Star. Equipment managers found Kneeland’s locker exactly as he’d left it—protein shaker half-full, a dog-eared copy of The Obstacle Is the Way on the shelf, and a sticky note on his helmet that read: “Attack today like it’s your last rep.” Head coach Mike McCarthy made the decision to leave it untouched for the remainder of the season.

“KNEELAND IN OUR HEARTS” – A TEAM UNITED IN GRIEF

In a move that speaks volumes about the Cowboys’ fractured-but-fierce family dynamic, the entire organization will wear custom silicone bracelets for Sunday’s pivotal matchup against the Las Vegas Raiders. The black bands feature white lettering: KNEELAND IN OUR HEARTS with the number 94 prominently displayed. Players voted unanimously to dedicate the game to their fallen brother, with proceeds from bracelet sales going to the Marshawn Kneeland Memorial Foundation, which will support youth football programs in his native Milwaukee.

“We play for him now,” said Micah Parsons, Kneeland’s position mentor and closest friend on the roster. The All-Pro edge rusher spoke with a tremor in his voice that betrayed his usual bravado. “Every snap, every tackle, every time we hit the field—that’s Marshawn out there with us. He’s in the huddle. He’s in the film room. Hell, he’s probably critiquing my get-off right now.”

The bracelets have already become more than memorabilia. Lamb revealed he hasn’t removed his since receiving it Wednesday morning. “Feels like he’s holding my wrist,” he said, tracing the raised lettering with his thumb. “Like he’s still pushing me to be better.”

THE RAIDER CONNECTION THAT HITS DIFFERENT

Sunday’s opponent carries its own layer of poignancy. Kneeland grew up idolizing the Raiders—specifically, the late, great defensive end Howie Long. His dorm room at Western Michigan featured a poster of Long’s iconic Super Bowl XVIII celebration. The rookie had circled this game on his calendar in red marker, texting his mother: “Gonna sack their QB wearing #94 just like Howie.”

Raiders coach Antonio Pierce, informed of the tribute during Thursday’s media availability, grew visibly emotional. “Football’s a brutal game,” Pierce said. “But this? This reminds us we’re all part of something bigger. Our guys will wear black armbands in solidarity. Marshawn’s story… it could’ve been any of us.”

A FRANCHISE FOREVER CHANGED

Jerry Jones, the Cowboys’ owner whose public persona rarely cracks, spoke privately with reporters after the press conference. “I’ve been in this league 36 years,” he said, voice thick. “Lost players to retirement, to trades, to… worse. But nothing prepares you for a 23-year-old kid who was just starting to live his dream.”

The Cowboys have established a scholarship in Kneeland’s name at Western Michigan, covering full tuition for one defensive lineman annually. His jersey will hang in the team’s Ring of Honor facility, alongside legends like Emmitt Smith and Troy Aikman—a testament to impact that transcends statistics.

As practice resumed Thursday afternoon, something remarkable happened. The defense, usually fueled by Parsons’ trash-talk and chaos, operated in near-silence. No barking. No celebrating sacks. Just execution. When rookie linebacker DeMarvion Overshown recorded a “sack” in team drills, he simply pointed to the sky and whispered, “That’s for you, 94.”

Lamb, watching from the sideline, pulled his bracelet tight against his wrist. “He’s still here,” he said to no one in particular. “Every morning. Every practice. Every game. Marshawn Kneeland isn’t gone—he’s just playing through us now.”

The Cowboys take the field Sunday at 3:25 p.m. CT carrying more than a 5-3 record and playoff hopes. They’ll carry a piece of their rookie phenom in their hearts—literally, on their wrists—and in every bone-crunching tackle against the Raiders.

For a franchise that markets itself as “America’s Team,” this week has revealed something more authentic: a family in mourning, bound together by silicone bracelets and the enduring echo of a young man’s voice.

“You ready to eat today or what?”

The Cowboys heard him loud and clear. Now they’ll play like their season—and their healing—depends on it.