How many “FUCK YOU!/FUCK YEA!/FUCK YOOOUU!” moments can one game have? Apparently, a shitload of them.
We could easily have been here celebrating another Victory Monday, talking about how resilient this team is for coming back from a 24-9 deficit to win on the road. Instead, we’re dragging through the day, head in hands, cursing our fathers for raising us to be fans of this shit team.
In Miami Dolphins football, there is a fine line between Happy and Fuck My Life.
Today, it’s that all-too familiar Fuck My Life associated with this team that has dragged us out of bed and placed it’s hairy mansack on our foreheads.
Only days ago, everything was unicorns, rainbows, strippers and Chivas for the Dolphins. A satisfying defeat over the Douchengland Patriots, followed by a tough win over the Jaguars, had us perched and prepped for a playoff run for the ages. The Good Times & Tits Committee was expected to continue throwing their non-stop kick-ass party in Nashville yesterday. Instead, all we got was a fistful of shit.
Everything was clicking these last two games. Big-time touchdowns, sacking quarterbacks with a single bound, hurling Mr. T. Night Elf Mohawk grenades at opposing players – it was all just a perfect storm of awesomeness.
It was the beginning of a season for the ages – an 0-3 start that would culminate in an AFC East championship and post-season berth. The season recap DVD was already being titled “Resiliency: How The 2009 Miami Dolphins Cockpunched Their Way Through a Tough Start To A Division Championship and Into Our Hearts (With special commentary by Lou Ferrigno)”
And now, not.
What more could be said? The Robot was both brilliant and awful. Ricky suddenly can’t stop fumbling the ball. For all his explosiveness and “potential,” Vontae Davis is a walking fucking bullseye. Our safeties look like German tourists in South Beach, lost as fuck. And Dan Henning…. oh Jesus H Fuckenstein, Dan Henning. How I long to replace your crazy pills with hamster droppings.
Of course, this is to be expected with this team. One moment they’re buying you drinks and letting you feel up their hot sister, the next they’re slamming your balls into a waffle iron.
Same as it ever was.
Now, we have to hope a bunch of shit falls into place for us to get into the playoffs. For the playoff situation, I point you to Matt over at The Phinsider. I can’t figure that shit out. He’s smart and into stats. I like boobies.
Anyway, next week the Houston Texans, where I fully expect Andre Johnson to show up to my house so he can shove his cock into my face.
Oh, and come read my Four Reasons The Dolphins Crapped The Bed On Their Season post over at theMiami New Times. It’s an article fueled by rage and lots and lots of Dewar’s. It’s a real hoot!