The Chris Grier Last Act? Let Lamar Torch Us on Prime in 4K

A Chris Grier NAIL IN THE COFFIN, DELIVERED BY MIami’s LOCAL DEMON

Thursday Night Football is supposed to build legacies.

Y’all remember Cam Wake’s walkoff safety on Halloween? Or how about Jaylen Waddle penguin waddles. Ricky Williams running through linebackers like unpaid bills? 

Instead, we got Lamar Jackson turning the Miami Dolphins into content.

This man came home to the 305, lit us up like it was a Pop Warner scrimmage, and 10 hours later our general manager was out of a job.

Chris Grier’s last act as GM was letting Lamar torch us on Amazon Prime.

Lamar grew up right here.

A Boynton Beach legend. 30 minutes from the stadium. Every time he plays in Miami, he treats Hard Rock like it’s his personal playground. On that Thursday night, fresh off a hamstring injury, in front of his family, on national TV, he delivered the eulogy for Chris Grier’s career.

18-of-23. 204 yards. 4 touchdowns. A perfect 143.2 rating.

He was surgical, effortless, a maestro conducting a symphony of our own demise.

Meanwhile, for the home team we had Tua Tagovailoa—Grier’s handpicked, “can’tmiss” franchise quarterback. The person who was trying to galvanize everyone before the game by telling them he needed “60 minutes” and it’s looking like his minutes here in Miami are almost up.

Tua was out there looking like a confused summer intern who wandered onto the field with a clipboard and no WiFi. Tua tossed one hell of an ugly pick, led exactly one sad, lonely scoring drive, and by halftime the game was already wrapped in plastic and headed to the morgue, because there was nothing to watch.

The scoreboard in Hardrock said 28–6, but it felt like 1000 to f**king zero. A full-on televised humiliation ritual. It was so violent, so disgraceful, Amazon should’ve put a viewer discretion warning before kickoff.

Stephen Ross watched this and simply said “Yeah… he’s gotta go.”

Boom. Axe dropped.

Grier got sent to the shadow realm before breakfast.

That wasn’t just a loss. It was a metaphor for Grier’s entire nineyear reign.

A DECADE OF DECAY: THE GRIER ERA BY THE NUMBERS

Chris Grier took over as GM for the Miami Dolphins in 2016 (crazy it’s been this long right?). Let that sink in, he’s been in Miami for nine seasons and nothing has really changed. 

The Miami Dolphins have been defined by one thing for damn near a generation: glaring, soul-crushing inadequacy when it matters most. This franchise is a masterclass in getting close enough to taste it, only to trip over their own cleats and faceplant into irrelevance.

Forget “Super Bowl aspirations.” Hell, forget “playoff runs.

Overall Record (2016-2025): 67-85-1 (.441 winning percentage)
Playoff Appearances: 3 (One & done in two of them)
Playoff Record: 1-3
AFC East Titles: 0
Franchise Quarterback Secured? No.

His tenure was a masterclass in mediocrity.

The 10-6 mirage in 2016 was followed by a 6-10 collapse. He cycled through coaches (Gase, Flores, McDaniel) and philosophies, burning it down for a “total rebuild” that produced… a team that gets bulldozed by anyone with a winning record.

He drafted a damn Ferrari in Jaylen Waddle… then panicked and traded for a Bugatti in Tyreek Hill, as if stacking weapons could cover up a cracked engine block. Yeah, the offense was explosive—historically explosive. They dropped 70 on the Broncos like it was Madden on rookie mode.

But here’s the problem: That same team gets manhandled like a JV squad every time the stakes are real.

Bills? Bullied us. Chiefs? Cooked us. Ravens? Ran through us like we weren’t even there.

Year after year, big game after big game, same story. Grier built a sports car offense on a house-of-cards foundation—and every time the wind blows, it all collapses.

This season though was different, this season was the final, undeniable proof of his failure. A 2-7 start. An offense that had lost its magic. A defense that couldn’t stop a nosebleed.

The collapse was here, and it was ugly.

THE LEGACY: A CONTENT CREATOR, NOT A CHAMPION BUILDER

Chris Grier’s final game was a perfect microcosm of his entire era: a superior, homegrown talent from a wellrun organization coming into our building and exposing the fundamental flaws of a franchise that never had a coherent plan.

He didn’t just lose a football game. He presided over the closure of our competitive window on national television.

He let a South Florida kid come home and light the funeral pyre.

In the end, Chris Grier wasn’t a general manager…

…he was a content provider for Amazon Prime.