the tuna curse

No team in football would be more justified in drinking the kool-aid in a mass suicide than the Miami Dolphins.

A number of reasons first brought this all-too-morbid but all-too-realistic thought into my twisted brain Monday night, primarily when Ricky Williams's epic three-minute comeback took a faceplant into the sloppy playing surface of Heinz Field.

Williams' desperate resurrection by the 0-11 Dolphins turned out to be nothing more than the 284th season-ending injury the team accrued this season. They've got more rookies and practice-squad fodder and undrafted free agents playing games against teams that tear them a new asshole every Sunday than a Satanist at an evangelical rally, and the lack of experience is all too easy to spot by now. Going into Week 13, I'm pretty sure the combined age of the Dolphins' entire starting lineup is still younger than Brett Favre.

Preceding Williams on Miami's' 200-page manuscript of injuries this season was quarterback Trent Green suffering a blow to the head from a 400-pound linebacker who was charging like a rhino after the ball carrier and happened to step on Green in the process. As you can imagine, that didn't end very well.

I know they wear helmets in football, but if you watch the replay on this injury, it actually makes you fall over a little bit.

Before that was Ronnie Brown tearing his ACL after he posted 4 games in a row of 100-plus yards and looked like the only Miami Dolphin who had a pulse. His total of 4 rushing touchdowns is probably the highest that number is going to get for the rest of the team until sometime in mid-2009.

This trifecta of terror for the ill-fated Miami team - nightmarish injuries to Williams, Green and Brown - isn't the end of their problems, though. Linebacker Derrick Pope unknowingly acted on the feeling that the rest of his team no doubt shares when he recently told espn.com his reasons for checking himself into a hospital.

"I didn't feel well and thought I needed medical attention," Pope said.

Is anyone really surprised that right after this, linebacker Zach Thomas suddenly developed migraines?! This can't be a coincidence.

And then, in what was clearly a definitive act of throwing in the proverbial towel, head coach Cam Cameron dished away top wide receiver Chris Chambers to the San Diego Chargers for a 2nd-round draft pick, a 10-pound bag of beer nuts and a $25 Starbucks gift card.

Cameron might as well have gone on national television after that trade, waving a white flag and reciting Ed Harris's "Fuck you! Fuck the lot of you, fuck you all!" speech in "Glengarry Glen Ross" to the press and leaving in a whirlwind of blind rage that would've made Denny Green blush.

The Dolphins are screwed, pure and simple. The fact that they still have yet to take a trip to Foxborough to take on the Patriots 2 days before Christmas is probably the most depressing thing about their dismal season thus far, because the Patriots dropped 49 points on Miami in their last meeting, IN MIAMI. I think Roger Goodell should just step in and make up some kind of mercy rule on the fly before the Dolphins end up like Apollo Creed in Rocky IV.

Meanwhile, I'll be at home tonight, trying desperately to convince my cable company to suddenly acquire an option to add the NFL Network into my monthly plan. I'm sure all 40 people who get to watch the Packers/Cowboys game tonight will be talking about it for weeks.

Sigh.