Carolina Panthers star quarterback (and probable NFL MVP) Cam Newton likes to do a little celebrating when he makes a good play on the football field. Actually, he likes to do a lot of celebrating.

Supposed “old school” players (such as future Hall of Fame linebacker Brian Urlacher) and fans (such as yours truly) don’t like all the choreography. I prefer Bear Bryant’s old adage that when you score a touchdown, “Act like you’ve been there before” (“and,” I might add, “you’re expecting to be back”).

In the glory days of the NFL, even a simple spike after a score was a novelty. You were expected to hand the ball to the referee and trot back to the sideline, not drawing attention to yourself (because it’s a team game) and not “rubbing it in” against your opponents (because sportsmanship is important). That’s all gone now. As Scotty said in “Star Trek IV” after encountering an Apple computer with a keyboard, “How quaint!”

Times and standards change, of course. Defenders of Newton rightly point out that celebration is widespread in pro football today. Indeed, it is so ubiquitous that the league has passed rules trying to limit the histrionics. They’ve had only limited success.

Rare is the game when you don’t see a running back or receiver signal a first down after making one or a defensive lineman sprint out of the pack after making a tackle. Even kickers will gesture toward the heavens or break into a dance—sometimes injuring themselves in the process.

Suddenly everyone’s a hero for doing his job—what he’s paid handsomely to do. We live in an era in which the individual reigns supreme and isn’t shy about telling you. As the late American financier Bernard M. Baruch said, “Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind.”

Supporters advance a utilitarian, might-makes-right argument, rather than a moral or social one, in defense of showboating. Muhammad Ali, one of the all-time great boxers (and show boaters), used to say, “It’s not bragging if you can back it up.” Others add, if some teams and players don’t like it (and many don’t), they should keep Newton from scoring. Panthers fullback Mike Tolbert says, “We don’t care about the outside world and any of the scrutiny or the talking the trash of our dancing or how much fun we’re having. If you don’t want us to have fun, stop us.”

Of course, that’s easier said than done, especially for the fans. And dare I mention that no amount of athletic prowess should cancel the responsibility each athlete presumably has to be a good sport? Right makes might.

Newton, in the run-up to Super Bowl 50, has become something of a lightning rod for all his celebrating. As it happens, Newton is black, and he and some of his fans suspect that the criticism has racial overtones. (Yes, in 21^st-century America, you knew it had to come to this.) Newton says, “I’m an African-American quarterback that may scare a lot of people because they haven’t seen nothing they can compare me to.”

Really? Newton, 26, doesn’t mention that he is actually the sixth quarterback who is black to make it to the championship game, so I question his analysis. So does Charles Barkley, a former pro basketball star who is black. Barkley has said if he were playing against the Carolina quarterback, he would “put a hit” on Newton for all the showboating.

I think it’s entirely possible that a lot of the criticism directed at Newton is cultural rather than racial. I’ll stick my neck out and say that I perceive that, in general, much of black culture (in worship, sports, and music, for example) is more exuberant than white culture. And that can be a very good thing. The rhythms, energy, and excitement of a great gospel choir, for example, can transport me to the very threshold of heaven in a way few other things can.

As one observer says, “The distinct identity of African-American culture is rooted in the historical experience of the African-American people, including the Middle Passage. The culture is both distinct and enormously influential to American culture as a whole.”

Therefore, it stands to reason that as African-Americans have become more numerous in the NFL, perhaps they have felt more comfortable displaying this cultural exuberance—leading to a clash of styles and values with the dominant (mostly white) culture.

This clash is brought into stark relief with this Super Bowl. Peyton Manning, 39, Newton’s counterpart on the Denver Broncos, is an old (in football years) white guy, a beloved figure in the NFL who confines his celebrating to commercials for Nationwide and Papa John’s. The classy but oft-injured Manning will likely hang up his cleats, which he cannot take off on his own, after this game. The brash young Newton looks like he will be a bull in the NFL’s china shop for years to come.

Manning has handled his long run as a marquee player with grace, and perhaps in time Newton will, too—keeping his contagious exuberance while jettisoning the hyper-individualism that turns off so many onlookers.

In the meantime, would it be too much to ask both Newton and his critics to show a bit more humility? Or is that too quaint a notion in 2016?