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    by Randy Ooney     

My Nickel’s Worth                     by Randy Ooney

 

My Nickel’s Worth                      by Randy Ooney

Celebrate

 

Like most of you, I try to pay attention to most major sports with the use of my television set.  I have to say that I have become increasingly provoked by the celebrations that are carried on by grown men just for winning a game.  Major League baseball has not learned the lesson of Kendrys Morales, whose ankle was broken during a grand slam home run walkoff celebration.  It seems that any instance of a walk off victory, team members turn into five year olds and have a hopping huddle in the home plate area, followed by a towel loaded with shaving cream plastered on the face of the guy who got the hit.

 

The NFL is not without antics.  Years ago the Bengals had a running back by the name of Elbert “Ickey” Woods who would do a dance after he scored a touchdown.  It came to be known as the Ickey shuffle.  Interesting that it was never adopted by Eldrick “Tiger” Woods maybe after sinking a 40 foot birdie putt, although Tiger is pretty famous for fist pumping.  In Green Bay, players who score touchdowns employ the “Lambeau Leap”, treating those in an end zone seat to a view of their rear end.  I did enjoy the touchdown celebration by Randy Moss at Lambeau when he feigned a moon to the crowd; not so much for Randy being Randy, as for the snarly reaction he got from announcer Joe Buck.  Years ago, teams would host a coach or valuable quarterback to their shoulders and carry them off the field.  Now they just give them a Gatorade shower and let them walk off like everyone else. 

 

Speaking of showers, I have noticed that ever since the “Go jump in the lake” tradition for the winner of the LPGA Nabisco Championship, nearly every tournament winner is being doused with champagne or club soda or something around the 18th green.

 

NBA players usually just pull down on their jerseys and open their mouths wide enough to insert a fist.  I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds like something that could have been started by Dennis Rodman.

 

So, what can PBA bowlers do?  Well, there is a fist pump, and a holler of “That’s what I’m talking about!” which makes about as much sense as the Ickey Shuffle.  Then there’s the crotch chop, made famous by a certain Hall of Famer.  I met Dale Eagle at the recent Treasure Island tournament.  He would flap his arms like wings of an eagle when he won a tournament.  I imagine that a Gatorade shower would be out of bounds at the local bowling centers.  It really tends to foul up approaches.  But a face full of shaving cream for drock is what dreams are made of. 

 

 

 

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