*Note: The only reason I’m posting this is because it increases my chances of this letter actually getting to the team.  If you read this and are sympathetic to my cause please send it to ESPN, NFL Network, and any other media outlet that could help my message reach the Dolphins.  Thanks in advance.  I really need to rid myself of that creeper stasche.

Dear Miami Dolphins,

I have been a Dolphins fan since 1994.  How I became a fan is a bit unconventional.  After I saw Ace Ventura: Pet Detective I was, from that point forward, a Miami Dolphins fan.  But how I became a fan is not the point of this letter.  Instead, my reason for writing you is because of a stupid personal bet that I made.

I decided shortly after you guys made the playoffs for the first time since 2001 that I would grow a mustache and soul patch until the Dolphins won the Super Bowl.  Now the reason this bet is stupid is not because I doubt the Dolphins can win a Super Bowl.  In fact, every season I start off thinking you will win.  However, this bet is stupid because I look like 3x more of a goon than I did stascheless. Parents grab their children and flee when I go to the park to shoot hoops.  Girls are fixated by it like men to cleavage, but rather than them being joyously mesmerized they are terrified by the pitiful collection of hair above and under my mouth.  If I were a politician rumors would emerge that I am an avid fan and collector of 1970’s pornography.

My decision to tell others has only ensured my dedication to this bet.  So now you are probably aware of why I’m writing: I need you, the Miami Dolphins, to win the Super Bowl this year.  I know you are determined to build on last year’s success, but a little extra motivation can’t hurt.  Please go out there each Sunday and whoop serious tail all season long so I can finally shave this furry monstrosity from my face.  Place my photo near the locker room door in order to be reminded of the plight and suffering of one of your fans, who sacrificed himself aesthetically for the benefit of the Dolphins organization.

After all, the Dolphins have brought fun and trickery back into the mix with an entire formation dedicated to using multiple weapons offensively while confusing the defense.  It only makes sense for the team with the unconventional offense to help a fan win a strange bet with himself by winning that shiny Lombardi trophy, which has been held and kissed by Dolphins once before.  Well, it’s time for Dolphins to hoist that trophy high once again, not just for me, but for all the Dolphins fans out there who also made some odd pact with themselves for the sake of the team.  They may not have written you, but they were probably able to tolerate whatever hardship they put themselves through.  However, I need to shave, but I won’t because I am a man of my word and I will keep this stasche until the day the Dolphins win the Super Bowl.  I might remain wretchedly single until that day, but I wasn’t alive the last time the Dolphins made it to a Super Bowl, let alone won one.

Included in this letter is a photo of myself (for dramatic effect, of course).  Now you’ll probably think to yourselves, “There’s no way he’s been growing that weak little thing since January,” but I have been cursed by a severe inability to grow acceptable facial hair.  I would’ve gone with a Super Bowl beard if only it were possible, but I was forced to settle for what my genetics would permit.  All right, I believe that’s all from me.

Well, one more thing: Since Jason Taylor is now a Dolphin again I do have a request for him, and that is to terrorize Tom Brady for nostalgic purposes.  I still remember when the Dolphins smashed the mighty Patriots 21-0 a few seasons back.  The main reason for the shutout was primarily due to the pressure put on Brady, mostly by the hands of Jason Taylor.  And what I remember and cherish even more was when one Miami reporter proudly asked Brady post-game what he thought of Jason Taylor.  It was a smug jab at Brady, but it was also a thing of comedic beauty.  Brady shot the reporter one hell of a stink eye and then avoided the question.  Please, for the love of great football, remind Mr. Brady that football is a contact sport.  Besides, he clearly hates getting hit because unlike quarterbacks like Ben Roethlisberger, who seem to find motivation from being driven into the ground, Brady performs terribly when he gets hit regularly.

All right, now that is all.  Shock the league this year, help me shave, and send Brady whimpering into the arms of Giselle.

Your Loyal Fan,

Joe Dimeck