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The unpredictable nature of sports might be its biggest selling point. The results are not scripted, the participants are not playing roles, and puppeteers are not toying with our heart strings. The outcomes are always in doubt.
Given that, why do sports teams celebrate their championships in completely predictable fashions?
In baseball, it's the pig pile. In football, the Gatorade shower. In hockey, the goalie swarm. In basketball, the Gatorade shower ...
Yeah, the nadir of team sports celebrations arrived on June 17, 2008, when the Boston Celtics defeated the Los Angeles Lakers in the NBA Finals, and Paul Pierce -- amped, psyched, completely devoid of new ideas -- decided to celebrate the team's 17th title by pouring the team's red Gatorade down the back of Celtics coach Doc Rivers. Never mind that Rivers was wearing a suit and standing on the hardwood floor at the TD Banknorth Garden. And never mind that loads of fans, press, players and coaches would soon have to negotiate that stupid spill. It was time to celebrate and ... and ... well, what do I do?
Naturally, you borrow a hackneyed idea (from another sport) that never made sense in the first place.
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| Taking pride in his celebrations, Chad Johnson always keeps it fun and original. (Getty Images) |
Boom! "You got knocked the (bleep) out!"
This is football, after all, not a wet T-shirt contest.
Now, let's take a closer look at how players celebrate championships in the four major sports. We're talking here only about championship celebrations, so the current trend in baseball -- imitating House of Pain videos on every walk-off home run -- will be discussed at a later time.
Baseball: After a long 162-game season, several rounds of playoffs and innumerable pressure-packed situations, it's understandable players want to blow off steam. Enter the pig pile, which channels a sentiment I've never experienced: "Oh my god, I'm so excited I need to jump on other men!"
The first time I remember seeing this spectacle was at the end of the 1980 World Series, when Philadelphia players swarmed Tug McGraw. It might have happened in 1979 with the Pirates, or even earlier with those Yankee, Red or Athletic teams, but I've never seen those clips. No, I think it's safe to say the Phillies introduced this phenomenon. They brought homoerotic locker room antics into our living rooms, and that's why they haven't won another World Series: Everyone's subconsciously rooting against them, even Phillies fans.
Football: The Gatorade dunk was brilliant in its stupidity, so that means one thing: It can be out-dumbed. Frankly, the celebrations at the end of championship football games are (for the most part) completely dull. Unlike baseball, which isn't over till it's over (and thus given to a greater release of joy when it is finally done) football games often come to anticlimactic endings.
But after that, it's bedlam on the field at a Super Bowl or BCS title game, and trying to capture its aura is like trying to get a sense of Mardi Gras by aiming a camera down Bourbon Street.
In quick order, television cameras catch a losing player crying, a winning player smiling, the holy-rollers praying in a circle, and the opposing coaches trying to navigate a sea of reporters to shake hands.
Football players make their livings in pig piles, so one more jump-on is apparently too many.
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| Even when he's not on the playing field, Owens makes sure the popcorn is always ready. (Getty Images) |
Red Auerbach is to blame.
Hockey: Frankly, I haven't seen the NHL Finals this century, so I'm not certain how hockey players celebrate team championships nowadays. If memory serves, the players on the winning team swarm and congratulate the goalie (even if he has allowed nine goals); then a league official produces the Stanley Cup; players skate around the ice and show it to fans to prove the Stanley Cup still exists; and then players use the Cup as a urinal during the offseason.
All of these traditions are charming in their own ways, but it'd be nice if the participants of the four major sports changed them up, say, once every two decades. Athletes, by nature, are a conservative bunch, but they need to stop celebrating like it's the 1980s.
If I could make one suggestion, it'd be this: When anyone wins a championship, they need to hunt down the losing coach.
I'm looking at you, Little Leaguers. Don't celebrate your World Series with a predictable pig pile. Celebrate like warrior-poets.
