I am tired of you, professional athlete. I am tired of your roof-raising. I am tired of your self-praising.

I am tired of your finger-wagging. I am tired of your incessant ref-nagging.

Tell me, when did it become the norm to turn every NFL touchdown into an over-the-top, Broadway extravaganza; complete with bird imitations and group dances?

When did it become necessary to grimace your face into one of an angry man after every highlight-worthy dunk?

Why is trash-talking now considered a tool to victory?

It was not always this way. There was once an age of innocence.

No one batted an eye in the `80’s when the Washington Redskins joined in the corner of the end zone after a touchdown for a group high five. That showed camaraderie.

It was cute when the Chicago Bears celebrated their 1986 Super Bowl victory by making the short-lived video “The Super Bowl Shuffle.”

But over the years, collective celebrations gave way to today’s prima donnas and their close-to-bursting egos.

These one-man shows have become so common, it is now blase to see someone just spike a ball and do their little dance.

Terrel Owens could have merely spiked the ball, spun it, or done a dance that looks like a man enduring electrocution while trying to walk.

Instead, he was an innovator against Dallas two weeks ago. He took the time to run to mid-field to spike it on the big, blue star.

Why? What did it prove?

If he did it to get extended airtime on television, it did not work. Many networks instead just cut to him throwing the ball down on the Cowboy star.

While on the subject of football, why must every Atlanta Falcon take pride in performing the “Dirty Bird?”

Perhaps the better question to ask is “Why would you want to be known as a Dirty Bird?”

When I think of dirty birds, I think of pigeons. And the name I hear much more often regarding the pigeon is “rat with feathers.”

But football players no longer limit themselves to touchdowns as a means of celebration. Oh no.

It is now perfectly acceptable to break out into song and dance after holding a running back to a two-yard gain. “Hey world, look at me, you just witnessed the best ever stop of a three-yard gain!”

Whupteedo.

Basketball players have not put it beneath themselves to tell the world how truly wonderful they are either.

Look for Larry Johnson of the New York Knicks this winter. Do not be surprised if five minutes into the game, he crosses his arms to form an “L” after making a jumper.

That’s just L.J. “L.J.-ing.”

And if you find it very boring to simply stand and salute your country after winning a gold medal, take some advice from Madonna and “strike a pose,” much as the 4 x 100 meter relay team did.

For twenty minutes after winning the gold in the 4 x 100, Jon Drummond, Bernard Williams, Brian Lewis, and Maurice Green wore their flags as capes, brandished flexed muscles while pointing to the tattoos that covered them, and paid homage to professional wrestler the Rock.

If these actions were somehow analogous to the actual world, the world would be a scary place.

But if these acts of ego were encouraged, I would first start out by claiming myself “the greatest columnist in all the world.”

And then I would get in the face of the news editors and tell them how much “you guys suck.”

And then I would ask for a pay increase, which might go something like “Paul Kix deserves a pay increase, because Paul Kix is the only one holding up this two-bit joint.”

And then I would go over to Ames Tribune, spike my computer on the floor, and tell them how much they “sucked.”

And then “Paul Kix” would ask for another pay increase.

And then I would go to Burger King, and wipe my face with the American flag.