Throw your hands up for the guys in the end zone -- the Dirty Birds, the Chicken Dancers, the Bob 'n Weavers. Haters of the touchdown dance --with their "act like you've been there before" mantra -- positively ache for the return of Barry Sanders, pining for the "classy" way he handed the ball to a ref after a score and jogged back to the bench. That's not classy, it's plain old boring. There's a reason players call it "takin' it to the house." The end zone is a mansion. A party palace. And not ...

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