Forget the Titans

The first Super Bowl I remember seeing was the Redskins/Raiders in 1983. My parents sent me to bed before the game was over but I snuck onto the stairs and listened as best I could from around the corner. I didn’t miss much. The Raiders won 38-9.

That Raiders blowout was sandwiched between a Dolphins loss I don’t remember (the year before, to the Redskins) and a Dolphins loss I do remember (the following year, to the 49ers). Man, it’s been a long time since they’ve been in that game. Like Marino himself, I expected a lot more than just that one.

Hopefully my son will get luckier than me.

I know I must have watched – or at least been in the room for – a few of the pre-Raiders/Skins Super Bowls, but apparently my memory of football didn’t kick in until I turned seven. Which bodes well for my son’s eventual adoption of the constantly-rebuilding Dolphins – not only will he not remember the hated Patriots’ appearance in Super Bowl XLVI, it will probably take him a few more years (maybe not seven, but a few) before he starts storing these memories, which gives my Dolphins plenty of time to turn things around. I figure by the time he’s six or seven, Matt Flynn and the Fins will be on their 4th or 5th consecutive championship.

But just to be safe, I might have to start creating a false history for him.

I can’t believe I’m only now thinking of this. This goes way beyond convincing him to be a Miami Dolphins fan. I can control his entire world.

The first thing I’ll need is an enormous soundstage. And a cast. Anyone want to help me create an artificial universe for my son? One where the Yankees, Jets, Evangelicals, zucchini and Ke$ha don’t exist?

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