Why doesn't anyone pay attention to my touchdown celebrations?

By Jesse Adams
White Receiver

I don't get it. I've enjoyed a solid start to my NFL career. I came out of college as a lightly-regarded prospect and I bullied my way into a starting gig by sheer will and hard work. I run crisp, clean routes and I have good hands. Because of extra time spent in the weight room, I've become physical enough to get past most jams at the line of scrimmage. And since I stand 6-foot-5, I'm one of the league's more dangerous red zone threats.

So with that said, I have to ask: Why doesn't anyone pay attention to my touchdown celebrations?

Take two weeks ago, for example. We had the ball on the opponent's 15 yard line and were threatening to score. With the snap, I shimmied off the line and shirked the cornerback. I ran straight out precisely nine yards, juked right and then snapped off left to the corner of the end zone. A perfect fade route, bitches. I turned and saw the ball halfway to me and I jumped up, battled the safety and took what was rightfully mine. Touchdown.

I then put the ball in between my feet and stood on my hands, walking on them back and forth across the end zone for a few seconds. When I came down, I looked around for someone to celebrate with, and no one was there. Not a soul. Everyone was already back on the sidelines, hamming it up with the quarterback.

That night I made sure to watch ESPN, figuring that I'd be on there with a display like that. And I was. But just my catch. After they showed the grab, they immediately cut to a shot of our quarterback jumping into the air to celebrate.

That night's Sportscenter had clips of Steve Smith making snow angels in the end zone, Plaxico Burress faux-riding a horse and Santana Moss making out with Clinton Portis after a score. But no love for me.

So what gives?

I'm well-liked by all of my teammates. I'm widely known as a good clubhouse presence and a leader in the community. People around the league describe my game by using such terms as "steady," "consistent" and "reliable." Sports Illustrated's Peter King wrote, "Jesse Adams isn't flashy, but he just goes out there and does a good job."

Not flashy? Excuse me? He must not have seen the time I scored on a post pattern against the Ravens and then did the chicken dance for nearly 45 uninterrupted seconds. Or the time that I slipped up the middle against the Seahawks for six, tied the football to the goalpost with some twine and played tetherball with myself. I'm sorry, but that's just pure genius. But no, what was on Sportscenter that night? Just another shot of Chad Johnson dipping his balls in nacho cheese and serving them, along with tortilla chips, to T.J. Houshmandzadeh.

Bullshit, I say.

My donning-a-mullet-wig-and-playing-slap-bass-on-a-four-stringer- and-amplifier-that-I-pulled-out-from-under-the-goalpost celebration was way better than that. But the cameras didn’t even catch me. They showed our running back holding one finger up in the air toward the crowd. Oh yeah, that's real original.

I guess I'll just have to up the ante next time. And there will be a next time, because you can’t stop Jesse Adams.

Book it.