Johnson would start his now-iconic dance with pretty much every limb stretched as far as possible. Both arms would point skyward, and his knees would move back and forth. So I had to dance, and I did the Funky Chicken.” “True to word, I scored the next game, and if I didn’t do it they were going to hold my feet to the fire. I just thought it was rather funny.”Īn idea was born, one Johnson then shared with his Widener teammates.
“He came on wearing hot pants and was doing it. “He might have been on Soul Train or one of those dance shows at the time,” Johnson told Bleacher Report during a phone conversation. Which is exactly what it was, as Johnson found his inspiration for the Funky Chicken dance from the Rufus Thomas song "Do the Funky Chicken." Johnson’s end-zone grooving now looks like the quintessential slice of '70s musical vibes reappropriated for the football field. Widener is where two careers began for Johnson: his football career and his dancing career. The slowed heartbeat of the touchdown dance can be linked to league rules dating as far back as 1984, when it was determined the Washington Redskins’ Fun Bunch was, well, having too much fun…in a bunch.Ĭreating touchdown celebrations: Knee shakes and schoolyard funīefore the Houston Oilers drafted him in 1974, Billy “White Shoes” Johnson was a standout at Widener College in Pennsylvania, a tiny Division III school at which he averaged more than 250 all-purpose yards per game. But over time they’ve become less elaborate, and less flashy. Signature touchdown celebrations are still a part of the league to some degree. Or rather, he does the Discount Double Check, because by law in 2015 everything must be branded. Oh sure, New York Giants wide receiver Victor Cruz still shimmies with his salsa dance, Cowboys wideout Dez Bryant throws up his "X" and Green Bay Packers quarterback Aaron Rodgers tightens his championship belt. The touchdown celebration is almost on its last legs. But now Jones can rest easy, because what he unknowingly invented 50 years ago-the desire to at first shake and wiggle, then later become a bobblehead before bobbleheads were cool-has nearly reached the end of its life expectancy. The spike certainly led to a lot of regret. “It caused so many things,” he told Greg Bishop of the New York Timesin 2012 while reflecting on his status as a touchdown-spike pioneer. He opened up an outlet for individual expression, giving the touchdown swagger. He created the touchdown celebration, and he regrets it. He didn’t know it at the time, but with that one sweeping act of celebratory rage, Jones gave birth to dancing, shuffling, strutting, home run swinging and eventually Sharpie-wielding. Jones had a name in mind: He had “spiked it,” as he later told reporters (jump to the 32-second mark of the video below).
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