Bursting on the scene

By STEPHEN F. HOLDER
Published January 1, 2006

The tension is building and kickoff is drawing near. In the tunnel outside the Bucs' locker room at Raymond James Stadium, players are sweating, their pulses racing.

Soon, the music starts, with Bring Em Out, the dance club hit by rapper T.I., blaring from the speakers. Then, public-address announcer John Magrino grabs his mic and urges the crowd to prepare for a grand entrance by the Tampa Bay starting lineup.

It's a routine repeated at each home game, even before the coin toss. But this series of events is one of the most important moments of any game day for the Buccaneers.

While standing in that tunnel awaiting their introductions, players feed off one another's energy and focus on the task ahead. It's a scene that can't be duplicated.

"It's just really amped up in there," defensive end Greg Spires said. "You're just hyped up. Not to the point where you're hitting each other or going crazy, but it's just like, "It's time to go!'

"That's something that every football player loves. Whenever you leave the game, that's going to be one of the things you miss: coming out of that tunnel. I know I am."

All that remains is for the players to make their individual entrances as their names and positions are announced. And that's where the fun really begins.

For some, their entrances are nondescript: They dart out of the tunnel, run to the huddle and slap a few high-fives. But for some, the introduction is not an event, but an experience.

Case in point: Anthony McFarland's shimmy. The defensive tackle stomps out of the tunnel and does something that looks frighteningly similar to a belly dance before sprinting the rest of the way to a huddle of super-charged teammates. Whatever it is, it has become something of a signature for McFarland.

"Everybody's out there trying to have a little fun," McFarland said. "Me, I'm just playing with the crowd a little."

Like we did, McFarland struggled with an explanation of what exactly his dance move is called. Others were at least willing to give it a shot.

"It's a stripper dance or something," nose tackle Chris Hovan said. "I don't know what it is."

Said Spires: "That's his pretty-boy dance. Don't be fooled. Mac is not rugged. He's a laid-back guy, kinda like a pretty boy. He even dresses like a pretty boy."

McFarland is not alone in individual antics. There are slight ones, such as cornerback Ronde Barber, who points to the "Barber" on the back of his jersey before strutting out. It's a ritual he started after scoring a 92-yard touchdown in the 2002 NFC championship against Philadelphia - a team brother Tiki and the Giants have repeatedly abused. It's a reminder of sorts.

Though you might never have noticed, pay close attention and you'll see defensive end Simeon Rice sprint out minus his helmet, making him the only defensive player who doesn't wear one during introductions. Why? The former fashion model and aspiring moviemaker loves face time, and the camera can't see your face behind a face mask.

And fullback Mike "A-Train" Alstott, while straight-laced with his entrance, is met with his trademark train whistle. The sound effect never fails to get a rise from the crowd, of which Alstott is a favorite.

The king of pregame introductions might be Baltimore middle linebacker Ray Lewis, who has a unique entrance that is part step dance, part rage. Its effect is indisputable, but it also can have an unintended consequence.

"I've never, ever seen a guy come out like Ray Lewis," said Spires, who recalled the game at Baltimore in 2002. "When he came out, he even had the guys on our sideline hyped up. We were like, "Ooohhhweee!' They probably shouldn't do that because other teams end up getting pumped up from it."

Linebacker Derrick Brooks' entrance has few rivals. He runs a short distance, jumps several feet off the ground with his arms flailing, finally landing in a squatting position. It's probably the best the Bucs have to offer, which might be why Brooks is the final player introduced when the defense is trotted out.

It's a great method of getting the crowd involved, just so long as it ends well.

"Brooks jumps up and does his thing, which is cool," McFarland said. "But one time he did it and he hurt his ankle. He didn't want anybody to know that. He still went out and played, but he revealed it later. He should probably be careful."

[Last modified January 1, 2006, 00:29:14]