The 1972 Miami D(sgusting)olphins

I have been a sports fan for some 30-odd years now. In that time, I have seen many records in sports come and go.
I watched Hank Aaron hit home run No. 715 off of Al Downing of the Los Angeles Dodgers in 1975. I remember seeing the Pittsburgh Steelers win four Super Bowls - the first team to accomplish such a feat - until Joe Montana and the San Francisco 49ers came along and won five (not all five with Joe, of course). I saw Wayne Gretzky pass Gordie Howe as the all-time leading scorer in NHL history. Mark Maguire beat Roger Maris' record of 61 home runs in a single season. Emmitt Smith became the NFL's all-time leading rusher, passing one of my all-time favorites, Walter Payton. And, more recently, Barry Bonds surpassed Aaron by becoming the all-time home run king, steroids or not.
In watching many of these records about to fall, there has always been a common thread, especially in baseball.
Usually, the person whose record is about to be broken is on hand at the game to congratulate the new record-holder's accomplishment.
That, folks, is what sports is all about. It's about watching the younger, stronger, faster players that come into the game take over the record books.
Gordie Howe congratulated Gretzky when he broke Howe's long-time-standing record. The Maris family was in St. Louis, anticipating Maguire's new record, and they took part inthe celebration. Even Hank Aaron, who was more than a little stand-offish when Bonds was at the threshold of the record, finally took the high road and congratulated Bonds for his feat.
Then, there are the 1972 Miami Dolphins.
As an Oakland Raiders fan in the early 70's, Miami was a perennial playoff foe of Oakland's.
Back then, there were basically three powerhouses in the AFC that took turns representing the conference in the Super Bowl - Miami, Oakland, and the Pittsburgh Steelers.
With Franco Harris making the (illegal) immaculate reception to knock the Raiders out of the playoffs in my cousin's rookie season, the Steelers quickly became one of the teams that I would despise in the NFL.
Miami went on to defeat Pittsburgh and went to the Super Bowl, but for some reason I liked the Dolphins. I didn't hate them like I did the Steelers. I had respect for them, and I thoroughly liked Bob Griese, Larry Csonka, Paul Warfield and other players.
Being a New York sports fan, I very rarely root for any team from Boston. That's just life in major league sports between the two cities. We just don't like each other. There would have to be something pretty bad to make me root for a team from Boston.
Hence, we have the '72 Dolphins.
To go back to my point at the beginning of this piece, records are meant to be broken. And good sportsmanship suggests that the old welcomes in the new.
This '72 Miami club has provided us with the worst case of sportsmanship possible.
Instead of wishing luck to whatever team could match their record of an undefeated season, these crotchety old men - Nick Buoniconti, Mercury Morris, et al., sit around in their homes every season and follow the NFL until there is just one undefeated team left. At that point, they get together on Sundays at Buoniconti's house, or whoever's, maybe even Don Shula's, they put a bottle of champagne on ice, and root for the undefeated team to lose. Once the last undefeated team has lost, and Miami's perfect 17-0 record remains in tact, they pop the cork on the champagne and celebrate.
I guess these miserable old men have such empty lives that they feel that they would be worthless without the record. It's simply the most disgusting case of poor sportsmanship that I have ever witnessed out of so-called "professionals."
So, with the Giants struggling through much of the season, and with me having many doubts about how successful the 2007 campaign was going to be, I actually didn't mind the fact that a team from Boston was going for perfection. I just wanted some team, any team, to finally make that stupid bottle of bubbly go flat on those annoying old men.
Also, Giants fans hate the Cowboys. With Dallas looking as though they were going to represent the NFC in the Super Bowl, I started to root for the Patriots.
Of course, I wasn't rooting for them against Big Blue, but once they beat the G-men, I figured what the heck, let's see some history.
I am still riding on a high from the Giants' win last week. It's just surreal to me to think about the frustrations of not just starting 0-2, but nearly starting the season at 0-3. I think about the four picks against the Vikings, with three of them returned for touchdowns, and I can't believe that that is the team that took on the league's best and prevailed. They made history by preventing it, and they took down the closest team to perfection in 35 years.
That says quite a bit. They beat all of the odds, and all of the doubters. I couldn't be happier to see my team win the Super Bowl. It's just a shame that the greater Miami gray-hair-and-denture club will be chilling another bottler for next year. What a sickening display.