It has been three long days since the moment that I have dreaded in all of my years following sports finally occurred.

Three long days since the biggest sports figure in the history of south Florida hung up his cleats.

Three long days since the greatest passer to ever step on the gridiron decided to ride off into the sunset.

It has been three long days since Daniel Constatine Marino, Jr. officially ended his Hall of Fame career, and you know what?

It still hurts like hell.

It hurts to see Marino leave the game without ever winning the Super Bowl ring that he so richly deserved.

It hurts to see perhaps the most gifted quarterback of all time virtually pushed out the door by the team for which he has served loyally and brilliantly for 17 long years.

But most of all it hurts to know that I will never again have the honor of seeing No. 13 fire those laser sharp passes, marching the Dolphins down the field with his golden right arm, for the game-winning score.

Monday's retirement marked the end of the career of not just one of the greatest football players of all time, but of also one of classiest and kindest athletes in sports history.

In an age of spoiled, big-mouthed athletes, Marino was never critical of teammates or coaches, preferring to deal with any differences internally. And in a time when the criminal world has increasingly crept its way into the sports world, Marino has continued to be a role model out of the limelight with an extensive history of community service and his commitment to his family.

Knowing this, it came as no surprise when Marino handled his retirement with the same class that has marked his career.

When asked about the Dolphin organization's treatment towards him--specifically its not-so-subtle hints that he was no longer welcome on a team despite his 17 years of service--Marino stated that the team had always treated him wonderfully, even though it was clearly not the entire truth.

When the subject of Marino's relationship with former coach Jimmy Johnson--who implied that much of the blame with Miami's woes were Marino's fault--arose, he once again took the high road, saying only that their relationship had "ups and downs," and that he wasn't always happy during Johnson's tenure.

When Marino was asked why he turned down the offer to play with wideouts Randy Moss and Cris Carter and running back Robert Smith--each better than any weapon he had ever had in Miami--in Minnesota, he showed the world what his priorities were. Not even the best shot at winning his dreamed-of title in years was worth living a few thousand miles away from his family for just six months.

And when the inevitable question of whether his career was complete without that Super Bowl victory surfaced, Marino admitted that while every player would like to go out with a championship, his lack of one would not take away from his career.

And he couldn't be more right.

Marino broke virtually every single-season and career passing record in the book without ever truly having a Hall-of-Fame caliber supporting cast to complement him.

And although no one in their right mind will argue Marino's place in the Hall of Fame, many will say that Marino can never be considered better than the likes of Joe Montana or John Elway because he never won the big one.

You would be hard pressed, however, to find anyone who believes that Marino would not have a ring of his own had he been in a 49er uniform leading Montana's cast of superstars that included Jerry Rice and Roger Craig.

You would find fewer people still who believe that Marino could win a championship with any of the running backs that he has played by throwing for 123 yards, zero touchdowns and an interception in the title game, as Elway did behind Terrell Davis to win his first ring in Super Bowl XXXII.

One can argue that Marino isn't the greatest quarterback ever, but it is ludicrous to blame him for Miami's inability to win in his 17 years. Football, more than any other sport, requires a complete team effort, as no individual player has ever been able to single-handedly carry his team to a title.

This rings especially true in Marino's case. In his 17 years, for example, Marino only once has had a Dolphin running back rush for 1,000 yards. By contrast, in Elway's final year alone, Davis ran for over 2,000.

Yet despite never having a true superstar player to complement him on offense--or any semblance of a defense, for that matter--Marino never complained, always believing that he could lead his team to the promised land behind his amazing arm. He fought to the end throughout his storied career, even while age and injuries began to erode his skills.

And with every snap of the ball, the fire and determination in his eyes showed the world that he loved every second of it.

During his farewell address on Monday morning, Marino, struggling to compose himself, said of his life in football, "I'm going to miss everything about it."

Well, Marino can rest assured that on behalf of anyone who ever saw him play, he will be missed even more.