Where Have You Gone, Chrissy Chambers?

On first down, you’d make an amazing one-handed catch
On third you’d drop a pass my dog would get playing fetch
You’d tightrope the sideline with the very best
Then fumble a pass over the middle in your chest
When we wanted a leader, you’d make us wretch

It seems like you had a new quarterback just about every year
A Hebrew, a Gentile and I think Joey Harrington was a queer
But there were times when I called you “Chrissy”
Because the routes that you ran were quite pissy
My drinking game was every drop you had, I’d drink a beer

Fast and strong, but you couldn’t get separation
Ran some routes like a freaking blind Haitian
Three touchdowns against the bitch-ass Cowboys
15 catches against Beefalo to bring the noise
But inconsistency is what frustrated Dolphins Nation

When the best QB you ever had was Gus Frerotte
Must have seemed like you were playing all for naught
Why couldn’t you have come along for Marino?
The timing was just wrong from the get-go
Loss after loss that I wish I could have forgot

You lost me when you lobbied for us to pick Ted Ginn
A top WR asking for another first-round WR is a sin
Then you proceeded to drop pass after pass
Made me wonder if you even gave a rat’s ass
Randy Moss would never say, “Let’s draft Johnson, Calvin!”

We gave you a huge deal to be our No. 1 receiver
You made the ‘Stache, Dave Wannstedt, a big believer
But instead you played like a pile of No. 2
Even though the guy throwing you the ball was a Jew
You disappeared when we needed a dream weaver

Now I guess your orange jersey I must retire
Alongside Ricky Williams’s, or just straight into the fire
Even have a Chris Chambers bobblehead
Could sell it for $1.29 to a guy from Boca named Ned
I’m sorry we couldn’t find a decent coach for you to hire

Nick Satan was a coward and a prick
The ‘Stache didn’t know his elbow from his dick
Jimmy Johnson helped run the ‘Fins into the ground
Then took his poodle and quit without a sound
What they’ve done to our franchise is depressing and sick

But at least you’ll love playing with Philip Rivers
As we nurse our concussions and bruised livers
And how could you not love living in San Diego?
Which is German for “whale’s vagina,” I know
You’ll finally have a quarterback who stands and delivers

So good luck to you for the rest of your career
Thanks for being a Dolphin I could occasionally cheer
Forgive me for the many times I couldn’t help but curse your name
And for calling you a “she” like Terry Glenn when you were lame
You couldn’t help being on a sinking ship that no one could steer

All that said, I’ll still miss seeing your No. 84
You gave us hope when everyone else was a bore
When you got stopped on a suspected DUI in your Subaru Brat
I was surprised you weren’t driven to drink long before that
It’s a good trade for Miami—but I hate to see you walk out that door