My goal: avoid hypocrisy

At least, whatever I did, I wouldn't be accused of repeating a familiar choreographed celebration dance, since I hadn't had a goal of my own to celebrate in a regulation outdoor match since the Nixon Administration. Seriously, my last goal was in 1973, at Balboa Park for the AYSO's Balboa Constrictors.

Not overdoing the celebration would be a little harder, seeing that if you score only once every 35 years, you want to make the most of the moment.

Not making the celebration all about me would be the most important part, since I'd like to be thought of as a better teammate than I am a player.

The ball glanced off the goalkeeper's hands and over the line and my reaction was to shout "Yes!", throw both fists overhead, feel a split-second glow of self-satisfaction -- and look for the nearest teammate to high-five. Central defender Robert Avege was there for the first hand-slap, followed by another player, then another. But by then everybody was running back upfield, in a hurry to continue a comeback from 3-0 down, so that was it for "Way to go" and "Thanks, man."

Trailing 3-1 took the edge off the fun of scoring -- and off the celebration. I yelled, "Let's get two more!", then added, "Three more!"

Did I follow my rules? Did I spontaneously enjoy the moment, celebrate with teammates, keep it all in proportion? I hope so, though I now see how hard it is to be spontaneous and keep your head at the same time.

After the match, a 4-1 defeat for my Gunners, came the best evidence that I hadn't been guilty of drawing undue attention to myself.

As we sat around talking about the game, teammate Brian Dohn asked, "Hey, who scored our goal?"