the Miami Sports Dude

A day after the NFL Draft concludes we wake up to this Dolphin news: defensive end Jason Taylor was stabbed last night.

Apparently, he was involved in a road rage incident of some kind that happened near his home in Davie. He says he’s fine and was even spotted at a charity golf tournament this morning in Tampa.

That’s good. Not a pleasant thing to wake up to the news that your best defensive player has been stabbed. I mean anybody being stabbed is pretty bad. But when Jason Taylor is the one who was stabbed, that really sucks. But, as reported, he went from being stabbed in Davie one night (and really, what else is there to do but poke people with sharp objects in Davie?), to playing golf in the Strip Club Capital of The World the very next morning. That’s our Jason!

My question in all this is: why does Jason Taylor live in Davie???

I suppose it’s to be nearer to the Fins' training facility. Still, you have to assume the guy who stabbed him was either A.) completely trashed B.) a tough guy trying to show off to his girlfriend or C.) a Davie resident. You have to be one of these three not to know who you're messing with when Taylor stepped out of his SUV after you gave him the finger.

I can imagine the scene.

It’s a typical night in Davie. Buddy and his son Roy are driving home in their 1963 Chevy Stepside from a night out of drinking and …

Buddy (spits out a chunk of his diablo sandwich): “That sombich SUV just cut me off!!”
Roy: “Look daddy, city folk!”
Buddy: “Hold on to your Stetson, junior, we’re goin’ after that no good pile o' monkey nuts!! Yeeeehaaaaww!!!”

The truck swerves in front of the SUV, making it come to a screeching halt.

Buddy leaps out of the Chevy and walks briskly up to the idling SUV. He has a Lockback knife dangling on a chain from his pants. Roy stays back by the Chevy while Buddy rolls up his sleeves. He knocks on the SUV driver side window.

Buddy: “Boy, c’mon outta there! I’m gonna barbeque your ass in molasses!!”

The door opens. A large, log-like leg steps down onto the pavement. Buddy looks up to see a 6 foot 6 inch, 255 pound black man staring down at him.

Jason: “What’s that you said, sir? I didn’t quite catch it.”
Buddy: “I … I … wuf …”
Jason: “What seems to be the problem here?”
Roy: “Hit him Daddy!”
Buddy (to Roy): “Git in the car, junior.”
Roy: “But Daddy …”
Buddy: “Git in the car you ass! It’s just that large black fella who plays for the Dolphins!!”

Jason reaches over and puts his hand on Buddy’s shoulder.

Jason: “You okay, pal?”

Buddy feels an involuntary release of all bodily fluids. He flails his arm as his Uncle Henry Lockback knife skims Taylor’s forearm. Buddy lurches backwards and walks back to the Chevy.

Buddy (to Roy): “Git in the car!”
Roy: “But Daddy!”
Buddy: “I said git in the car numb nuts!”
Jason: “Hey pal, you just nicked me here! Where you going?”

The Chevy peels away, leaving Jason standing on the side of the road, perplexed. After five minues of driving at 85 MPH, Roy finally breaks the silence.

Roy: “Daddy ... your pants are wet.”

Silence.

Roy: “Daddy …”

Silence.

Roy: “Daddy?”
Buddy: “What!!!???”
Roy: “That was the large black fella that’s always knockin down Tom Brady.”
Buddy: “There's no way, NO WAY that you came from my loins. Soon as I get home, first thing I'm gonna do is punch yo mamma in da mouth!”

Labels: Miami Dolphins