Miami Dolphins Exes Are Thriving & We’re Buying Shots

Miami Dolphins’ Exes Are Thriving

This picture hurts.

You know the one — Christian Wilkins, Jevon Holland, Xavien Howard, Andrew Van Ginkel, and Jerome Baker lined up in their new uniforms outside Hard Rock like ghosts haunting the building. It’s Photoshopped, sure, but the pain feels real because it tells the truth: Miami let go of a core that was the Dolphins’ defense. And while they’re thriving in their new homes, we’re left staring at a unit that can’t stop tripping over its own shoelaces.

It’s the NFL version of watching your ex post gym selfies with their new boo while you’re still on the couch with pizza rolls. They look great, and you’re stuck thinking: “How the hell did we blow this?”

The Lost Five (and Then Some)

Wilkins was the heartbeat of the trenches, the guy who danced after sacks and pissed off opponents while doing it. Now Vegas has him, and he’s bullying offensive lines like it’s just another Sunday workout.

Holland was the ballhawk — the closest thing we had to an Ed Reed clone in aqua and orange. Now he’s thriving in a system that actually lets him roam, while Miami just got cooked by Tyler Warren like he was prime Gronk.

Howard was swagger and intimidation rolled into one. The pick machine who could flip a game with one play. Losing him wasn’t just cap math; it stripped the secondary of its alpha.

Van Ginkel was chaos — blitz, chase, cover, wreck. A Swiss Army knife who finally found a team that sees him as a weapon instead of a plug-in.

And Baker? The glue. The guy who kept the middle of the field from turning into I-95 at rush hour. Without him, that’s exactly what it looks like.

And don’t forget the guys who didn’t even make it into that viral Photoshop. Jalen Ramsey wasn’t in the picture, but his absence was obvious in Week 1. A healthy Ramsey erases half the field — instead, Daniel Jones looked comfortable spreading it around like a 7-on-7 drill. Same with depth options like Jonnu Smith, the kind of steady safety valve who could’ve kept drives alive when everything else stalled.

Together, that group was Miami’s identity. Now they’re spread out across the league, thriving, while Miami’s left with ghosts and duct tape.

Empty Stats, Empty Soul

Against Indy, Miami looked like a defense that eats its vegetables but never touches the steak. Sure, 82 tackles sounds cool. But when you only force one punt and zero turnovers, that’s not defense. That’s babysitting.

The Colts didn’t just move the ball; they set up shop, lit a cigar, and invited the Dolphins to watch. Michael Pittman Jr. averaged over 13 yards a catch. Tyler Warren looked like Travis Kelce in disguise. Daniel Jones had all day, threw for 272 yards, and basically took a victory lap in the second half.

And the whole time, fans sat there thinking: Wilkins doesn’t let that happen. Holland doesn’t let that happen. Howard doesn’t let that happen.

But they weren’t there. And that’s the reality.

This feels exactly like Miami nightlife. Wilkins brought the energy, Howard the swagger, Baker the muscle, Holland the brains, and Van Ginkel the chaos factor. Ramsey was the velvet rope, Jonnu the bartender making sure things didn’t go dry. Together? Unstoppable. Split them up? Now it’s more like that sad VIP table at Mango’s — three middle-aged dudes nursing one bottle, along with a penguin and the fast guy with nowhere to go.

That’s what watching this defense feels like. The party’s over, and the guys who made it fun are dancing somewhere else.

The Hard Rock Haunting

That viral picture stings because it’s prophetic. Every time we walk into Hard Rock now, it feels like those five — and the ones Photoshopped in later — are still there in spirit. Not on the field, but in the what-ifs. What if Wilkins was still clogging the middle? What if Holland was still taking away deep shots? What if Howard was still locking down WR1s? What if Ramsey was still shutting off half the field?

Instead, Miami’s defense is a mash-up of guys who try hard but don’t scare anybody. Indy punted once. Just once. Imagine saying that about a defense that used to be built on splash plays.

This is what happens when you play cap roulette and lose.

The Chiefs let Tyreek Hill go, but they doubled down on Mahomes and trenches and won another ring. The Patriots constantly cycled out stars for depth and picks, and it worked for 20 years.

Miami did the opposite. They spent big on shiny toys and let the foundation walk. Now the “Lambo in a studio apartment” roster construction is catching up.

Tyreek is still Tyreek, Waddle still electric, but the defense? It’s ghosts and duct tape.

Another Year, Another Cycle

And here’s the real pain: Dolphins fans know this story. Every season it’s hope, hype, heartbreak. We convince ourselves that new pieces will gel, that the offense will carry us, that the defense will “figure it out.” Then reality smacks us like a traffic jam on the Palmetto.

Week 1 felt like déjà vu. The defense we once trusted is gone. And the guys who made it special? They’re out there thriving, making plays for teams that don’t wear aqua and orange.

The Dolphins didn’t just lose five players.

They lost their identity. And as much as McDaniel can preach about execution, schemes, or “the big Week 2 jump,” none of that changes the fact that Miami let its defensive soul walk out the door.

Fans know it. That photo blew up because it stings — our exes are shining elsewhere, and Miami’s left staring at the reflection of what slipped away.