Serious question…Why The F**K ISN’T LAMAR JACKSON A MIAMI DOLPHIN?

Every single time Lamar Jackson steps into Hard Rock Stadium, it feels like God’s funny way of reminding Dolphins fans, the front office, and the entire city of Miami that we fumbled the bag, not once but twice.

Once when the University of Miami didn’t lock him down in high school.

And again when the Dolphins decided they’d rather roll with Brock Osweiler, David Fales, and a half-broken Ryan Tannehill instead of the dude who literally was born to play in the 305.

Literally the walking embodiment of a Miami football player. Someone intense, gritty, flashy, and someone who get’s the job done under any type of pressure.

THE LOCAL KID WE LET WALK OUT OF BROWARD COUNTY

Lamar grew up right here in South Florida.

He went to Boynton Beach High. You could drive from his house to Hard Rock Stadium in 30 minutes — 20 if your cousin’s driving.

But when it came time to recruit him, Miami’s coaches told him “We’re not sure you can play quarterback.”

So he packed his bags and went to Louisville, where he immediately became a Heisman winner, an MVP, and the man Miami should’ve built a statue of by now.

We had Brad Kaaya, and don’t get me wrong — I loved Brad. He was the guy. He had the hair, the poise, the look. But in hindsight?

We had a Corolla. Lamar was a f**king Lamborghini parked right down the street, and we left him at AutoNation.

THE DOLPHINS F*CKED UP TWICE

Fast forward to 2018, where we had another chance to redeem ourselves and atone for the sins of our past….newsflash, we didn’t.

Instead it seemed like the front office of Dolphins (once again, thanks Chris Grier) prefered the Dolphins’ quarterback room to look like a Home Depot break room with quarterbacks Ryan Tannehill, Brock Osweiler, and David Fales.

Ouch.

That’s not a QB room, it sounds more like characters from the beginning of a true crime documentary.

It was dismal for Tannehill as he had one of his worst years in the NFL as a starter throwing for 1,900 yards, getting hurt again, and eventually going to Tennessee in free agency. Funny enough, he suddenly turned into Joe Montana and won Comeback Player of the Year.

Meanwhile, Grier was out here convincing us that Brock Osweiler was “the guy”, you’re f**king kidding right?

Then the 2018 NFL Draft comes around. Lamar Jackson — local kid, MVP DNA, Miami-raised — is sitting right there.

But guess what the Dolphins elected to do instead of grabbing him, the Dolphins said, “Nah, we’re good.”

THEY DRAFTED A SAFETY, in Minkah Fitzpatrick (who’s really good in his own right, but cmon y’all)

A SAFETY, instead of a generational quarterback?

While Lamar was sitting there in the green room waiting for a phone call like an ex who never texted back.

FAST FORWARD TO 2025: LAMAR’S STILL TORTURING US

On Amazon Prime, Thursday night? Lamar came home once again and torched us. Again.

204 yards. 4 touchdowns. 18-of-23 passing. 158.3 vibes.

This man threw lasers like he was playing Madden on Rookie mode.

Meanwhile, Tua was out here playing 4D chess with linebackers, trying to find Jaylen Waddle between two Ravens and a storm cloud of bad decisions.

Every time Lamar throws a TD against Miami, it feels personal. It’s like he’s looking at Stephen Ross through the camera saying,

“You could’ve had me for free, b**tch (it’s the bia one)”

We had M-V-P chants echoing inside our own stadium. Hard Rock turned into his homecoming party. And the crazy part? He looked happy about it.

Lamar’s out here smiling, dapping fans up, probably stopping by his old 7-Eleven after the game like,

“You know I had to do it to ‘em.”

On the bright side, the Dolphins had one spark in the second half — a 36-yard dime to Waddle. Then the refs hit us with a tripping penalty on a play where dude literally slipped.

That wasn’t tripping. That was gravity. We got flagged for physics. And after that, the whole team deflated faster than Tua’s deep ball.

We lost 28–6.

Outgained the Ravens in the first half. Still got cooked.  Bam, game over.

Another Lamar Masterclass in Miami.

WHY LAMAR JACKSON SHOULD BE A DOLPHIN — LIKE, RIGHT NOW

He’s from here.

He plays here like he’s home.

He wins here like he owns a condo in the end zone.

Every time he steps foot in Miami Gardens, he reminds us what it’s supposed to look like when your quarterback actually scares people.

He is everything the Dolphins think they have in Tua — accuracy, mobility, swagger, command — except he’s doing it with an MVP trophy on his shelf and zero concussions on file.

Lamar Jackson in aqua and orange would be a cultural reset.

The stadium would sell out.

305 jerseys would be hanging from every light pole in Liberty City.

And Dan Marino’s ghost would be like, “Finally.”

FINAL WORD: LAMAR BELONGS HERE

The universe has been giving Miami signs for a decade.

He was ours in high school.

Ours in college.

Should’ve been ours in the league.

And every time we line up against Lamar, it’s embarrassing like watching the ex you ghosted show up in a Rolls-Royce with your dream job, and a man who can do everything that you can’t. Meanwhile you’re sitting in a Rav4 listening to the playlist she made you.

Lamar’s the generational player that got away.

Lamar Jackson should’ve been a Cane.

He definitely should’ve been a Dolphin.

And every touchdown he throws against us is God whispering:

“Y’all really chose Brock Osweiler over me?”

We didn’t lose to the Ravens. We lost to karma.