The Joy of Scoring: When Goal Celebrations Get Out of Hand

Alfredo Matilla, AS

We all have our quirks. Mine revolves around the euphoria that follows a goal. The reason? I once dedicated a goal to a woman who, mortified with embarrassment, stormed out of the stadium in anger. I still haven't fully recovered from that episode. Ever since, I have watched goal celebrations with a mix of dread and intense scrutiny. And let’s be honest: lately, things have started getting out of hand. Mikel Merino, with his refreshing simplicity in an era dominated by ego, recently reminded me of just that.

Over the years, we have seen it all: the wild and unhinged (Maradona at USA '94), the unforgettable (Iniesta honouring Jarque), the understated (Schillaci), the infectious (Roger Milla), the bizarre (the Brazilian "cockroach"), the controversial (from Leandro to Fowler), and those that blend sheer audacity with narcissism (Mbappé, Cristiano, Lamine...). Nowadays, however, celebrations have simply multiplied. More does not necessarily mean better; what was once entertaining is quickly turning into an annoyance.

Take, for instance, the man scoring the most and smiling the brightest right now (Raphinha), who stands out with an elaborate five-step routine. It is as if he is demonstrating that success is born of pressing, winning back possession, linking up, shaking off the defender, and applying the finish. With 14 goals, he has provided 70 front-page photo ops. He is determined to be the most expressive figure on the pitch, and his goal is not just to play at full throttle, but to celebrate at full volume.

Once the ball hits the net, the show begins. The forward leaps with a clenched fist—a homage to his legendary compatriot Pelé. Next comes an imitation of goalkeeper Narváez, followed by pointing at his latest partner in crime, a more collective spin on Míchel's "I deserve this." Then, after soaking up the embraces and high-fives from his teammates, the routine continues with a rehearsed handshake alongside his mate Lamine Yamal.

On his way back to his own half, he turns to the camera and morphs into Spider-Man in a tribute to his son. Finally, he glances toward the bench to give a knowing wink to his German manager. At times, VAR’s whimsical delays turn the entire routine into something resembling an extended music video. That remains the only real critique of the Brazilian's theatrics.

Now I understand why English researcher Robert Boyling was so determined to uncover who actually scored the first official league goal in football history following the game's codification in 1863. Until just over a decade ago, Gershom Cox of Aston Villa was credited with the milestone on 8 September 1888. However, Boyling's meticulous research revealed that Villa's match against Wolves, scheduled for 3:00 PM, kicked off half an hour late, meaning Cox's 31st-minute strike landed at 4:01 PM. That meant Kenny Davenport’s goal for Bolton at 3:47 PM took the crown.

Conspiracy theorists might point out that Cox’s strike was an own goal—tinged with tragedy rather than celebration—whereas Davenport found the back of the opposition's net. And as we know, this beautiful game had to begin with unadulterated joy. Football, after all, is built on dreams.

Since then, we have witnessed every conceivable reaction. Players who take jubilation to the extreme (Cantona) and others who stay completely muted out of respect for former clubs. Those who flash slogans and get booked for the gesture rather than the message. Those who, like Bebeto, cradle an imaginary baby in honour of family. Those who mix politics with sport (from Di Canio to Israeli players tastelessly mimicking gunfire). Those who silence the crowd (Raúl at Camp Nou) and those who whip them into a frenzy (Luis Enrique at the Bernabéu).

There are those whose celebrations literally caused a stand to collapse (Martín Palermo) and those whose iconic poses were immortalised in bronze statues (Di Stéfano against Vasas).

Celebrations hold such significance that during the pandemic, La Liga installed dedicated cameras behind the goals. With no supporters in the stands to share their triumphs with, players could direct their raw emotions to the millions of us watching at home, glued to our screens in uncertain times.

Ever since, the FanCam has served as a confessional booth for goalscorers playing Cupid. After a three-week layoff, Raphinha looks capable of turning his goal hunger into a breakdance routine right in front of the lens. It has become the stage where players rehearse their best acts. Hugo Sánchez would have had a field day with it.

Integrating this novelty was far from smooth sailing. Having borrowed the concept from the NFL, there was initial confusion—several players were booked by referees who mistook direct looks into the lens for taunting rival fans. Gerard Moreno knows all about that.

Yet it was through this very setup that Lionel Messi delivered one of the game's iconic tributes, unveiling Diego Maradona's Newell's Old Boys shirt. For that moment alone, the entire experiment was worth it. As is the goal itself, and every celebration that follows.