I wrote early on Friday that "David Irving still doesn't quite yet get it.''

Now it's Friday afternoon. And I understand even more deeply that David Irving REALLY still doesn't get it.

Sources told me at 2:32 this afternoon that the the mercurial Dallas Cowboys defensive lineman has been given a four-game suspension by the NFL for a drug-related offense. He will not be eligible to return to the Dallas roster until Monday, Oct. 1. (The Cowboys themselves have since confirmed this.)

"There's more to my life than just football,'' said Irving yesterday, after he showed up to mandatory minicamp this week and opened up to the media at large on Thursday. "I'm actually a real person. I have family issues, a lot of issues I've been dealing with. I can't go into much detail ... just know it's behind me. By the time the season starts I won’t be dealing with any of this BS anymore.”

There is some truth in that statement. There is some hope in that statement. And there is some continuing "BS'' in that statement that isn't quite going away. (Especially now, post-drug suspension.)

Irvin has transformed himself into an enigma. He is both a sympathetic character (the "family issues'' are very real) and a defiant one.

"I do have a daughter ... and some other things to deal with," he said. "There's a balance to everything. Everyone questions my commitment and this and that. When I'm on the field, I don't really get too much questioning."

If Irving is talking about his unique ability to record sacks from the defensive tackle position -- he playfully predicted that he and DeMarcus Lawrence could this season combine to average "a sack a quarter each, maybe?" -- he's right about the lack of "questioning.''

But sacks on Sunday isn't all that football is about.

When defensive leader Sean Lee spoke the other day about "shared sacrifice'' (and the dangers of the lack of it) he was talking about Irving. When I've written about how Irving has had too little guidance and too much misunderstanding, I've been empathetic toward this person who I like and I've detailed the culprits. They aren't his teammates. Maybe the organization, from a players' program perspective, needs to do more. Surely the media needs to be better; the local papers have suggested for weeks that Irving is grossly overweight (not completely true) while ignoring his custody battle -- this time around insisting that this Thursday interview marks the first time he's "opened up'' about the family issues.

This is not the first time he's done so. (See our detail-filled interview with Irving, almost a play-by-play of his custody fight for 5-year-old daughther Zoe, here.) It's just the first time he's done so with the local papers.

"I wasn't here because I chose not to be here," Irving said. "If I could've come I would've, but I couldn't for certain days, so I didn't. It has nothing to do with me being out of shape. The media, or coaches even, probably put it out there. But the real reason is really none of the public's business right now."

Actually, David's already told me the "real reason.'' And he and Collin County have the paperwork to back that up.

The court order that grants #Cowboys David Irving the right to remove his daughter from California to return her home, which he has done tonight: pic.twitter.com/9ONuGiHFcG — mike fisher ? (@fishsports) May 15, 2018

But while Irving clearly feels betrayed by reporters who didn't tell his full story and by the "coaches who put it out there'' that he was "out of shape,'' the person who must own this isn't the coaches or the media or estranged mate Angela Sanchez or his agents or the brother who is moving into his new rental home to help.

That person charged with the responsibility to help David Irving is David Irving.

He attended all three days of the team's mandatory minicamp this week after missing so much work before. His weight is at about 305, and he's played around that weight before, though this year he'd like to play at 285. While he's 6-7 and a possessive of a wondrous "dinosaur''-like build, according to coordinator Rod Marinelli (thus the nickname "Dino'') he's also naturally lean.

He says he's working toward being able to do "that underwear modeling and stuff. Got to get those abs back."

That's an engaging thing to say. As with his lost nipple ring at camp last year and his cold-weather wardrobe including a fox scarf he's named "Chester,'' it's funny and it's clever and it's charismatic. But it's also maddening.

David obviously has the right to be a "real person.'' How can you not feel for him and side with him as he talks about this weekend's Father's Day, saying, “I've seen the light at the end of the tunnel. I got my daughter. It's just me and her. That means it's no stress really. Have a good relaxing day with the person that loves me the most, the person I love the most. It’s going to be good.''

It all makes you think it can work out. Irving says he'll be ready for training camp when the Cowboys land in Oxnard on July 24. I'm told there is another custody hearing in the coming weeks. (That's what Irving's referring to when he says, "I won’t be dealing with any of this BS anymore.”) Marinelli says, "He's back home with us," and it feels so maybe-reassuring that Irving will take his one-year, $2.91-million contract and get all of those sacks and build a wildly happy life as a father and as a Cowboy.

But the "There's more to my life than just football'' theme of his presser creates what is called an "Either/Or Fallacy'' or a "False Dilemma.'' "How can I be devoted to football when I'm devoted to being a dad?'' The answer, as almost every person reading this can offer, is "The same way the rest of us do.''

I watched David on Thursday as he was in attendance but again did not practice. He was on the other field (us Cowboys old-timers might call it "The Asthma Field'') running a series of what have been described as "wind sprints.'' But (again, Old-Timers Alert) they weren't "wind sprints'' because Irving wasn't sprinting; jogging was the best he could muster, and he took lengthy breaks in between the jogs, at least once trudging into some shade to bend over in pre-puke position.

Oh, and the "wind sprints'' weren't 100 yards, which is the NFL conditioning standard that I've always witnessed; Irving was moving crossways on The Asthma Field -- jogs of 160 feet at a time.

Father's Day could've been special. This person can still be special. But the "Either/Or'' of Sunday? The only thing that prevents David Irving from spending that day as both a good daddy and a guy who does himself and his career the favor of something more than a 160-foot jog is ... David Irving. And now, assuming I'm right about an upcoming custody hearing, Ms. Sanchez will have something else to argue about -- a four-game drug suspension.