We need to talk.
I’ve been thinking about this since Monday, and I don’t think you and I should talk or be friends anymore.
Why, you ask? Well, okay, look. You have been there for me so much in my life. Childhood was a bit of a pain, but when I saw you, my problems just seemed to go away. And you were great once. Once.
But things change. I've changed and so have you. I mean, it's almost as if we're not on the same level anymore. We have different goals, and I don't think I could go on like this anymore when all of your change has led to the same putrid results, time after time.
I know that I've said this in the past, but in the end I always come back. This time I just don't know if I can do it. I'm sorry.
I know what I want, but do you? I can't go on like this, with you breaking my heart all the time. Its gotten to the point where you find new ways to do it. At some point the madness has got to stop, the cycle has got to end, but it feels like it just never will unless I go out of my way to stop it.
I just need to live my life, and not worry about my heart breaking, not worry about just getting something mediocre. We've had some great times, but sadly, that hasn't been the case in a while.
Miami Dolphins, it's not you, it's me.
No, sorry, it's you.
The losing doesn't bother me. Bringing back Sparano doesn't bother me either.
But what does is the fact that in the last decade, it feels like you've been selling me, and the rest of the fanbase, the same tired crap. I know it's not because you're cheap; you've been the opposite of that. It's been the continued mediocrity and it's been going on for so long that I can't just blame Wannstedt and Cameron for being inept. I can't really fault Saban anymore for leaving, either.
I mean, maybe the reason why Sparano celebrates field goals so enthusiastically is that even he knows that Dan Carpenter is truly their best chance of getting any points on the board.
Look, Dolphins, don't think that this isn't a hard decision for me to make, because it is. We're talking about a relationship that began in 1988, when I was five years old and just started to learn what this game "football" was.
My parents, especially my father, didn't like you. They kept warning me that you were trouble, that you would just get my hopes up and break my heart repeatedly.
Did I listen? Of course not. I rooted for Shula, Marino and the Marks brothers as much as any plucky five-year-old could muster.
Yet, here I am today, ready to let go of a relationship that's gone on for almost 23 years.
We've had our good times, of course. Seeing Marino break every quarterback record imaginable; the playoff appearances in 1990, 1992, 1994, 1995, 1997, 1998, 1999, 2000, 2001 and 2008; the Division Championships in four of those seasons; seeing Ricky in his prime in 2002 running over everyone; and of course, back to that 2008 miracle season when we learned that even the impossible can be achieved and that luck can go your way as long as you put yourself in the position to make it work.
But notice what's missing from those good times: the one thing any football fan wants from their team.
A Super Bowl.
You couldn't get it done with Marino because there was no defense or running game. We finally got both two seasons after he retired, but because of inept coaching, the most talented team in the AFC that year, who only needed one win in the last two games to get into the playoffs (and two wins to get home field advantage), managed to drop both games.
It was not because the other teams had more talent, but because Cris Carter dropped the ball in Minnesota one week, followed by Norv Turner deciding it would be a good idea to pass on first and second down after the two minute warning when the Patriots had zero time outs. And because the following week, the Dolphins got a bad punt when a three and out would have won the game for them.
That season should've been the tipping point, but I still came back.
And what awaited me? Wannstedt, Ricky retiring, Saban bolting for Alabama, 1-15, and field goal fist pumps.
You really think I wanted it to be this way?
Now, you managed to stab your head coach in the back while failing to land the guy you really wanted.
I didn't even want Sparano back, yet you turned him into a sympathetic figure. At least Henning is gone, but who knows, maybe a Henning disciple will come in to replace him.
The fact that Sparano is coming back makes him an even bigger man than I am.
Because unlike him, I will not be back. I'll still follow the team and write about them, but forget about me spending money on any more jerseys, buying tickets, or even so much as mentioning them amongst friends.
Miami Dolphins, it's over between you and me.
(Translation: I'll be as excited as a kid in a candy store when the schedule comes out as well as on the first Sunday of next season. Go Phins!)
Thomas Galicia is a Miami Dolphins Featured Columnist on Bleacher Report. For more of his opinions in bite sized morsels, follow him on twitter, @thomasgalicia. Check out more of his writing on www.thomasgalicia.com, which will include a behind the scenes look at how this article was written, well, sort of.