Up 17–0, then melted faster than a Publix sub in July.

The Miami Dolphins jumped out to a 17–0 lead and then decided that was enough cardio for the day.

Everything was clicking — Tua was cooking, Waddle was wiggling, McDaniel was looking like an evil genius again — and then Carolina reminded Miami that football games last a full four quarters.

What followed was a masterclass in self-destruction. The Dolphins didn’t just blow a lead; they disintegrated. They got gashed, outworked, and spiritually folded by a team led by Bryce Young and a running back named Rico Dowdle, who ran through Miami’s defense like it owed him rent.

THE START: MIAMI BUILT A FAKE EMPIRE

The first 20 minutes looked like a highlight reel. Tua was dicing up the Panthers like he was back in Tuscaloosa.
Achane hit the edge. Waller bullied his way into the end zone. Waddle danced into pay dirt. The scoreboard said 17–0, and the vibes were immaculate — fans were tweeting “no Hill, no problem” like they’d already clinched a playoff bye.

Even Mike McDaniel was preaching zen football.

“We can’t waste time wishing for what we don’t have,” McDaniel said before kickoff. “We’ve got the pieces we need right here.”

For a half, he was right.

THEN RICO DOWDLE HAPPENED

Rico. Freakin’. Dowdle.

A free-agent pickup from Dallas. Backup running back. First start of the year.
He finished with 206 yards, the second-most in Panthers history, and probably 200 of those came after contact.

Dowdle had runs of 53 and 43 yards, and every time he touched the ball, it looked like Miami’s defense was playing on a treadmill set to “regret.”

“Explosive. Dynamic. Every down back,” Bryce Young said after the game.
“Nothing surprising.”

Nothing surprising? Buddy, the only people more shocked than Miami fans were the ticket scanners.

Carolina outgained Miami 237 to 19 on the ground. That’s not a typo. That’s a mugshot.

Even McDaniel couldn’t sugarcoat it.

“We were outgained by 200 yards in the run game,” he said. “That is not good enough. You’ll rarely win — if ever.”

No kidding.

THE MELTDOWN: A FOURTH QUARTER HORROR SHOW

Once the teal smoke faded, Carolina just kept throwing body blows. The defense was cooked. The offense was gassed. Tua’s composure evaporated like sweat in a sauna.

Bryce Young — yes, that Bryce Young, the quiet kid every Panthers fan had on “prove-it” watch — turned into a surgeon.

He went 19-for-30, 198 yards, 2 TDs, and when Miami tried to pressure him, he hit Xavier Legette for a trust-fall touchdown that made Canales cry real tears on the sideline.

“I threw it to a spot and trusted him to be there,” Young said.

Legette: “He believed in me.”

Canales: “I was in tears.”

Meanwhile, the Dolphins’ defense was in shambles.

Carolina tied it, then took the lead on a 1-yard Dowdle touchdown, before Tua briefly gave everyone hope again with a 46-yard bomb to Waddle to make it 24–20 Miami.

And then? Classic Dolphins.

Bryce Young marched down the field, hit a rookie on fourth-and-5, and then found Mitchell Evans for the go-ahead score with 1:59 left.

Final: Panthers 27, Dolphins 24.

MIAMI’S DEFENSE NEEDS A GROUP THERAPY SESSION

239 rushing yards allowed.

206 to one guy.

And the front seven looked like they were running in flip-flops.

“We’ve got to stop the run,” Bradley Chubb said. “We’ve got to live it, breathe it, be it.”

Cool quote. Maybe start by doing it.

Miami had Carolina in a chokehold early and then forgot the part where you actually finish the choke.

SAME SCRIPT, DIFFERENT SUNDAY

You know that Miami pattern:

Hot start. Viral clip. Defensive collapse. “We’ll fix it.” Repeat.

Tua was fine — 27-for-36, 256 yards, 3 TDs — but every time Miami gets punched in the mouth, they look stunned someone hit back.

No Tyreek Hill hurts, sure, but this wasn’t about speed. It was about guts.

As McDaniel put it:

“Losses are tough, but who really cares? We deserve for it to feel terrible.”

He’s not wrong. It should feel terrible when a dude named Rico Dowdle ends your Sunday.

FINAL TAKE: FOUR QUARTERS, NOT TWO

The Dolphins aren’t a bad team — they’re just an incomplete one.

They can front-run with the best of them. They can throw fireworks. But when the confetti doesn’t fall by halftime, they fade like a heatstroke victim at Ultra.

If Miami ever learns how to finish, they’ll be dangerous. Until then?

They’re just running the league’s most expensive cardio session.

Next week’s goal: remember that football has four quarters.