NFL Should Either Enforce It or Sack It

A distinguished entertainer in his day for the New York Jets, Mark Gastineau arranged, however unwittingly, for a piece of legislation in pro football that still stands.

It is called the anti-taunt rule, and its purpose, easily defined, is to discourage players, at the risk of a penalty, from taunting their neighbors.

In the case of Gastineau, he used to perform what was called a “sack dance” over the fallen carcasses of quarterbacks he was lucky enough to catch.

Describing the sack dance isn’t simple, but roughly, it suggested the exercise of a yak preparatory to mating.

It also started scuffles, most notable of which involved the Rams’ Jackie Slater, who, watching Gastineau dance after nailing the Los Angeles quarterback, gave him a stiff push, provoking a punch-up for which 37 players were fined.

“One lousy tackle,” snapped Jackie, “and he puts on a big act. Why don’t I dance every time I block him out?”

The anti-taunt rule calls for a penalty of five, or 15, yards for “prolonged, excessive or premeditated” celebrations by a performer after a play . The severity of the taunt determines the yardage.

In the book, the rule looks good, except it rarely is enforced and hardly has given religion to revelers on the field. A guy catches a touchdown pass--and it’s Mardi Gras. Another intercepts a pass--and it’s first prize in the lottery.

Even a bit player, assigned to the suicide squad, makes a tackle on a kickoff and he goes coconuts.

“I can remember,” says Art Shell, field commander of the Raiders, “when simple spiking was considered an outrageous act. But the carrying-on you see today? Those making tackles, or catches, are even pointing fingers at the other guy.”

“And you don’t care for finger-pointing?” Shell is asked.

“That’s pretty hazardous stuff. No one has a lock on toughness in football. When you point a finger at someone, you are pointing at a tough man. You also are upsetting him. It seems to me that football is dangerous enough without guys going out of their way to make it more dangerous.”

Even field-goal kickers enter the taunting spirit. Kicking a 15-yarder, one will raise a triumphal arm and take off on a long, theatrical sprint.

Shell doesn’t see this as advisable, considering the size of the kicker and that of those against whom he makes the kick.

A 14-year NFL veteran, Mike Haynes, defensive back for the Raiders, traces the taunt to an artist named Billy Johnson, also doing business as Billy White Shoes, who, in 1976, followed a touchdown with a presentation of the Funky Chicken.

“It all seemed to take off from there,” Haynes said. “One guy getting into the end zone did the California Quake. Another slam dunked the football over the crossbar. Still others handed the ball to teammates for a group performance. This would lead to the Ickey Shuffle. And the defense would put on a show, too.”

“Does this serve any function?” you ask of Haynes.

“In the school in which I was raised, celebrating was for something special, like winning a title. But making a tackle, or knocking down a pass? That’s what you’re expected to do. You also are paid for it.”

A delicate question has been raised whether praying in the end zone is a taunt. It seems to have started years ago with Wendell Tyler, who carried the ball for the Rams and the 49ers, and kneeling in the end zone and genuflecting, disturbed a lot of rivals.

They saw it as pious exhibitionism, and were ticked off, too, that a guy would be thanking God for six points at their expense.

Tyler did a lot of fumbling, but no one falling on the ball was observed praying.

Wendell, though, found support from George Allen, who, watching the player kneeling one day in the end zone, said quietly: “At least, he prays in a good place.”

It is hard to trace the beginning of self-commendation in sports, but track and field heroes from Europe for decades have taken victory laps, waving to their minions.

And, scoring a goal, soccer players have burst their moorings, jumping up and down and opening their arms for embraces, even kisses, from teammates.

That practice spread to hockey and, regrettably, remains.

But at least in soccer and hockey, games are usually 2-1, if not 1-0, making you shudder at the prospect of the custom shifting to basketball, in which a match produces maybe 220 points. But all the demonstrating you see in football today is a distraction, and a viewer, noting how seldom taunting is called, reminds officials: “You’ve got a good rule in the book. Use it.”