The Miami Dolphins could hardly open the season looking worse. Aside from the Charger's customary gift, Miami has scored one garbage touchdown in eight quarters. As anemic as it sounds, the offense has looked even more confused than the 6 points would indicate. This is the territory of Adam Gase, wunderkind coach, whisperer of quarterbacks and savior Miami has been waiting for since Don Shula.
Coach Gase insists, "it drives me nuts," when experts "much more qualified then me," suggest that QB Jay Cutler is not living up to the $10 million dollars Miami spent luring him from retirement. In an unprecedented turn of events, the vitriol of the fans has turned a blind eye to the tumultuous fumblings of the Miami offense. Instead the fans have turned away in droves due to what is happening on the sidelines before the game is even played.
It's as if we have finally breached the saturation point... When this blog began many years ago, there were only a few of us passionate enough to share our thoughts in a public forum. The fear of our literary shortcomings was enough to silence our public voices, but the saturation has changed all of that. Whether it Tweet, Instagram, Facebook, SnapChat, Blog, Broadcast News, or the good old paper gone digital, etc. the information sources have reached overflow.
Every move is scrutinized, analyzed, scandalized until every molehill becomes a mountain in 140 characters. The President of the United States blurts out his 140 characters of instant gratification and millions of voices suddenly awaken. The game I tuned in to watch has become less important than the personal agendas of all those voices.
This working man does not have time to follow the billions of tweets and posts and chats and videos rallying to some fuzzy cause he is not entirely sure of. This working man is wishing to drown his worries in cold suds and an occasional 12 year old while watching his favorite team win or lose. He doesn't tune in for more tweets. He doesn't tune in to care about another man's problems, he has plenty of his own. He tunes in to watch a football game.
So looky here Miami Dolphins, get your shit together.
I don't care who stands, who sits, who kneels. In fact I think playing the national anthem before every sporting event makes absolutely no sense, but this isn't about me or you, or my agenda, or yours.
It's about football...
That's why I turned on the TV. That's why I'm sitting like a fool in an aqua and orange shirt biting my fingernails to a nub. I'm okay if you want to go on some talk show or write a piece about the injustices of your people. I may even listen or read it, but interrupting my football game?
Brother you are messing with the wrong people...
There's a fine line for every fan outside of New England because let's just face it, Miami sucks, again, and I'm waiting here for an implosion or 8-8. I know there is no Super Bowl in our near future. I know Cutler and Tannehill are far from Tom Brady and this offensive line stinks, again, as usual.
So why am I here in front of this TV, Miami Dolphins?
I am certainly not here to further your cause off the football field, whatever it may be.
I'm here because there's aqua and orange in my veins.
Is it in yours, Miami Dolphins?
I'm here because once, I wore number 42 and pretended I was Paul Warfield and didn't get a single shred of news about my Miami Dolphins because I lived in Mechanicsburg Pennsylvania. I didn't need tweets, or blogs or ESPN because aqua and orange got in my blood.
Is it in your blood Miami Dolphins?
Because if it isn't, those millions I help pay with my loyalty will dry up very quickly. I empathize with your protest, though it's hard to digest the actions of millionaires extolling the plight of the less fortunate. When your agenda creeps into my living room I have this little remote control and it has an off button.
I still bleed aqua and orange, but if it's no longer in your blood than I'll turn off the TV and the computer and the phone and go find another way to spend that money earmarked for you.
Is it in your blood Miami Dolphins?
