The Miami Dolphins no longer have a fan base. They have support groups.
Harbaugh, Fisher, Manning, Flynn . . . even Alex Smith. They know the truth and they have used it to their advantage. The Miami Dolphins of Griese and Csonka, Shula and Marino are dead. This is the age of Team Leverage.
I was never in love with the idea of my team signing a 36 year old quarterback with more neck surgeries than playoff wins over the last two seasons. But my God, we never even got to second base with a guy whose prime was back in the Bush administration!
And Manning was RIGHT to spurn us.
Then Matt Flynn decided he would rather go play in the NFL hinterlands with a coach whose greatest success in the pros is that he hasn’t been sanctioned for recruiting violations. Flynn chose that guy over his guy, Philbin. He chose a place where it rains three hundred days out of the year over a place where rain showers last five minutes and are followed up with all night parties, on a Tuesday.
And Flynn was RIGHT to spurn us.
The cherry on this crapcake of a Miami Dolphin fans existence came when Alex Smith announced he was taking his talents back to North Beach and re-upping with the 49ers. Alex Smith is a nice kid, and his career appears to be on the upswing. But the fact remains it took Smith seven years to hammer out one season worth talking about. But there I was, wanting Alex Smith as if he were sitting on the other side of the bar and it was closing time.
And yes, Smith was RIGHT to spurn us.
Harbaugh proved he made the right decision when he took the 49ers to the conference title game last year, and Fisher is already proving he made the right choice before the Rams have played a single down thanks to that haul he got from the Redskins. Saban proved he made the right decision to the tune of 2 national titles and counting at ‘Bama. Hell, the last time we made a decision on a big name that mattered, we chose Daunte Culpepper over Drew Brees. Enough said.
Being a Dolphins fan means never having to worry about Super Bowl tickets. It means reading all about the Saints Death Penalty and thinking, “Wow, they’re lucky”. It means loving a team that can’t even get losing right, as evidenced by our Andrew Luck-killing flourish to end last season. It means baseball can never come soon enough. It means watching the big mouth Jets grab Tebow when his landing in Miami made so much more sense.
Every other team gets better or more relevant or both while we get David Frigging Garrard.
Fire Jeff Ireland. I’ll bring the matches.