Wednesday, January 3, 2007

Open Letter to Nick

“Sometimes you're crazy and you wonder why I'm such a baby cause the Dolphins make me cry…”
Hootie
Hootie and the Blowfish

Dear Nick,

I got your message this morning. Wayne told me over my morning grapefruit and green tea. Yeah, that’s right, I’m going on that diet just like I promised you. So I can be a fitter fan. For us!

Promises. Ha. You promised me that we would always be together…forever.. or for at least the three years remaining on your contract. I would ask time and again if you were leaving me. At first, my queries were a tease, just a little game we played. But when that guy in Alabama became “available”, I got a little nervous. “I am not going to Alabama,” you testily told me. Each time, with increasing annoyance, you would tell me how much you wanted me…to stop asking you if you were leaving.

I believed you Nick. I believed IN you too. I ignored all your shortcomings because that’s what makes a true fan/coach relationship strong…unconditional loyalty. I overlooked the combined 4-10 Sept and October record. I forgave the 1-3 record against those stinking New York Jets. While I did cry when I saw Drew Brees have an All-Pro season and Dante Culpepper unable to hit the broad side of a barn, I was considerate enough to weep in my pillow so you wouldn’t hear me. I even defended you masculinity after that lame challenge flag throw you had in Pittsburgh this year. So what if you throw like a right handed girl throwing lefty.

Oh, but there were some the good times too. The times I thought, this could be the real thing. Like “Shula” real. The six wins in a row at the end of last season. Shutting out the Patriots. Covering the spread against the Colts.

Times that gave me hope that someday, you and I, would bask in the glow of a Vince Lombardi Trophy while sipping banana daiquiris on a Cancun beach and listening to David Hasselhoff sing Mexican folk songs. That fantasy always did freak you out.

But now, there is no Super Bowl trophy, it’s raining on the beach and Hasselhoff is starring in the Vegas run of “The Producers.” (true item)

What do I do now? Where do I go? Who will give me my inspirational Sunday post game comments about how we are turning the corner? When will this pain go away?

You’ve left me a broken Dolph-fan. Where my heart once beat is left an empty jock strap. Will I ever be able to fall for another coach again? Carroll? Petrino? Capers? They all look great but I’ll be forever worried that during the next three game road trip, he’ll fine another team, a prettier, sexier team, and he’ll leave me. Like you did.

Maybe it was my fault. When you looked in my eyes, you saw deep down inside the fire that still burns for Marino. I told you it was over between us. That he was so 1980s. But you saw through that lie, butI could not see through yours.

Well, Nick, I hope Alabama makes you happy. I truly do. I hope in them you find whatever it was we Dolphins couldn’t give you. Frat parties. Big haired women. Under the table perks. Closet segregation.

And maybe some day in the distant future, we’ll see each other across a crowded subway platform. We’ll lock eyes. We’ll smile at each other. A smile that suggests time has healed all wounds. We’ll take a few hesitant steps toward each other, fumbling for the right words to say. And as our train approaches, I will leap toward you and shove you into its oncoming path.

That should really heal my wounds.

Broken heartedly yours,

2 comments:

langer said...

The Hoff in Vegas? What next?????

Jon Moss said...

Buh bye! See ya! Hasta la vista baby!