Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...

If football passed up Don Shula, it’s because football is going in the wrong direction. Whether he abdicated or was talked from his 33-year reign as the NFL’s winningest coach, you can bet he will be more comfortable with the decision than some of the players he leaves behind.

While his 1995 Miami Dolphins crumbled around him, Shula remained steadfast, chin up, taking the heat, accepting the responsibility. He called it the toughest season he ever endured, yet fought it the only way he knew how, by going to work every day. That’s more than some of his players can say, as some admitted.

Picked to challenge for the Super Bowl after assembling a team with 19 No. 1 draft choices, the Dolphins discovered they were never a team at all. For whatever reasons, the pieces of the jigsaw puzzle came from too many boxes.

The short view is to feel sorry for Shula, to lament that it ended in a blaze without the glory. At 66, he goes out like legends Tom Landry and Chuck Noll before him, their better days long gone, their Super Bowl years faint memories.

One of Shula’s last great moments was Dec. 2, 1985, a decade ago, the Monday night his Dolphins spoiled the Bears’ perfect season and preserved the 1972 Dolphins’ 17-0 record as best ever. His last Super Bowl appearance was 1984, his last Super Bowl victory 1973, before some of the current Dolphins could walk.

But history also will recall how he went out, with dignity. Shula never offered an excuse, never whined about the shabby treatment from fans chanting “Jimmy! Jimmy!” as he left the Joe Robbie Stadium crowd fantasizing about Jimmy Johnson.

“The buck stops with me,” he said.

His legacy will reflect how his players felt by how they explained their failure.

Volatile linebacker Bryan Cox–kicked out of games, fined for fighting, ripped for spitting at Buffalo fans, but always defended by Shula–recognized the problem: “I think some changes have to be made as far as players. That has been a big part of the frustration I’ve experienced all year–sitting back and knowing that you have a few guys giving all they can possibly give and a few guys just happy to pick up a paycheck. I think that has been a big source of my frustrations and some of my blowups.

“Do I want to come back here? If some changes are made with players. The coaches are taking a beating right now, and it’s frustrating to sit back as a player and see them taking a beating and knowing that they had to deal with what they had. People have really beat those guys up and it’s not their fault.”

Or this, from defensive end Marco Coleman: “Coach Shula is a very, very proud man. He has done so many things. I just hope and pray we get back to what is called TEAM. Not be confused with all the different negotiations and all this money-hungry (stuff). Nobody started playing football for money. Now all of a sudden, money money money money. If I don’t get this money I don’t want to play. The only change that needs to be made is to be a team, from the beginning of training camp until 1997. Team. Team. That’s what needs to be done.”

Or this, from receiver Gary Clark: “All the coaches can do is get you prepared to play. People who blame coach Shula and the staff, that’s wrong.”

Or this, from cornerback Troy Vincent: “Some people should look in the mirror and see if they want to play in the National Football League or if they want to play golf. I feel there were too many guys who didn’t care enough about this game. If you don’t care about this game, you don’t belong in this league.”

Of course, Shula understands the failure to mold stable teams from transient individuals reflects on the coach. Nobody knows better than the winningest coach in history that losing is part of the deal.

At first, he indicated he would fulfill the final year of his contract. Apparently, he came to his senses and decided to play golf. He probably took a look at the grandkids and wondered what it would be like to take them to a game on a Sunday.

Unless Cal Ripken takes up coaching, we never will see this again.