Marshawn Lynch:
Oakland native scores, dances at home.
The Raiders? A bunch of wallflowers.
Invite ’em to the dance and the Raiders all stand there sipping punch, too shy to join the fun.
When Marshawn Lynch broke into a wild dance on the sideline in the fourth quarter Sunday, shaking his dreads and his bootie, he danced alone.
“I was actually inspired,” head coach Jack Del Rio said. “I was going to join him.”
At least three of Lynch’s teammates also said they thought about joining his dance. Talk is cheap.
It’s a good bet, though, that all those wannabe dancers will get another chance to trip the light fantastic with Lynch. The recycled running back was so excited to be playing his first Raiders game in front of his hometown fans that after the game, he actually spoke to the media.
Asked how it felt to dance for his Oakland fans, Lynch said, “If felt good.”
I said he spoke, I didn’t say he bubbled over.
Lynch didn’t dominate the Jets, but he represented. Ran the ball 12 times for 45 yards, including a 13-yard jaunt and a 2-yard touchdown, a Marshawn Special.
Lynch makes a day out of it. Before the game, he was behind the dropping of five Skittles vending machines in various parts of Oakland and Berkeley, spitting out free candy, giving the East Bay a massive sugar buzz.
During pregame intros, Lynch grabbed fellow running backs Jalen Richard and DeAndre Washington and pulled them onto the field with him.
Richard explained, “We were getting ready to go out (of the locker room) and he was like, ‘Hey, I want you all to come out (during the intros) with me.’ I was like, ‘They cool with this?’ ”
You know what Lynch replied, right? He told his fellas, “It doesn’t matter what they say. You boys are coming out with me.”
Lynch marches to his own drummer and dances to his own house music. His fourthquarter dance was pure crazed emotion.
“He is Oakland,” linebacker Bruce Irvin marveled. “I’ve never seen him act like that in Seattle. So it was great for him to be out there and be loose. It was a great moment to see.”
Lynch apparently has so much energy that dragging angry 300-pounders around all afternoon is just the salad course to his Sunday Beast Feast.
After the game, I think I saw Lynch directing traffic out of the parking lot. Scott Ostler is a San Francisco Chronicle columnist.