Perfectville

What a game. It's hard to describe the investment we have in the Miami Dolphins and the 1972 Perfect Season. I was six for crying out loud, and all I knew about Dolphins back then was re-runs of Flipper.

It can be frustrating living down here, because most everyone is from someplace else. What's maddening is this- these are people who left their friends, their family, they left their jobs, neighborhoods, churches, they said goodbye to all of that to move to South Florida. But, do they root for the home team? No! We go to all the Dolphin home games, and week in and week out here they come, wearing the moth eaten Bills jerseys, the Jets jerseys, Cowboys, Eagles, Pats, you name it. We've been getting chased out of our own stadium for what feels like the last three or four years. Brutal.

I wasn't innocent mind you. Ironically enough, when I moved down here I was a Patriots fan. Growing up in the Northeast, you had arguably 4-5 'local' teams: Giants, Jets, Eagles, Bills, Pats, Steelers all within a several hour drive. I liked the Pats because their logo reminded me of Captain America. They really sucked back then, seemed like every year Steve Grogan was starting at QB.

After a few years living in Florida, I decided that it was stupid to keep carrying that torch. If I wanted to be part of the community, I had to root for the home team. I threw a party, no one knew what for, and at the end of it I led everyone out to the parking lot. I swore allegiance to the Dolphins, and set my Pats t-shirt on fire while parading around it singing the Dolphins fight song. Overly dramatic? Maybe. Okay, yes.

Ever since I have bled aqua and orange. Probably not concidentally, it wasn't long after that Shula and Marino were gone, and the Fins went into their tailspin. Nevertheless, I have never wavered.

So yeah, it feels really good to hold on to the Perfect Season crown. Stupid to have so much wrapped up in a game played by millionaires, but I don't care. Perfectville: population one, established 1972.