These are two excellent questions, albeit rhetorical ones. The answer is clear.

He is being stalked by Satan.

A lot of odd things happened in the first NFL weekend. Jon Gruden lost his first game in Tampa Bay on an interception of his right-handed punter's left-handed pass, and the coaches' dressing room in Oakland shook with perverse glee. The New York Jets won because the Buffalo Bills couldn't tackle Chad Morton, twice. The Houston Texans beat, and we do mean beat, the Dallas Cowboys.

But never mind all that. In the NFL, stuff happens, and it happens to perfectly reasonable people as well as rampant nutjobs. The NFL is a profoundly egalitarian exercise that way.

Let's center our attentions, instead, on Cleveland, where Davis, the head coach of the mighty Browns, is contemplating the big haircut.

You all know about Dwayne Rudd, whose premature and effervescent celebration cost the Browns an opening day win over the Kansas City Chiefs. He threw his helmet, which is proscribed by the rules, and the ensuing penalty set up Morten Andersen's chip shot for the game-winner.

But below the radar, behind Rudd's judgmental spasm (which he has apologized to all and sundry) comes the news that Chris Gardocki, the veteran punter-turned-holder helped put the Browns in disadvantageous field position by being called for taunting.

Apparently, he was a little too ebullient in celebrating Phil Dawson's apparent game-winning field goal with 29 seconds left. The resulting 15-yard penalty forced the Browns to kick off from their 15-yard-line, setting up the field position that allowed Rudd to finish the job.

Now I ask you, with an open mind and a kindly heart, when did it become O.K. for a holder to get busted for taunting?

The NFL has many features of jungle law -- the biggest eat the smallest, and all that. And in the NFL, the smallest are usually found on the kicking end, even if, as in Gardocki's case, they stand more than six feet in height. It's a modest but important job, and they tend to keep to themselves because the biggest regard the kickers as annoying little afterthoughts.

So the smartest and longest-lived kickers live with the disdain. They make their kicks, they slip in the occasional touchdown-saving tackle, and they keep the screw-ups to a minimum.

Taunting, they do not do. They don't even do anything innocent that could be construed by even the drunkest official as taunting.

This is the first clear blemish of Gardocki's long career. He's been to the Pro Bowl. He holds the NFL record for punts without a block. Until now, he was toiling in the relative safety of anonymity.

And now ... poof! All gone. It makes you wonder if perhaps Butch Davis didn't spend enough time on celebratory timing during training camp.

As in, "Never throw your helmet, even if you win the Super Bowl.'' Or, "If you're a holder, never throw even as much as a fit.'' Or, "Take up Zen, boys. Celebrate at home with a rousing rendition of 'Green Eggs And Ham' for your kids.''

It's a little late for that, though. The Browns, who are not yet in a position to give away wins, gave one away, twice. We can assume that Dwayne Rudd has thrown his last helmet. We can also assume that Chris Gardocki has emitted his last taunt.

Lessons learned, face first.

But that doesn't help Butch Davis' throat. Perhaps he should have a loved one shave him for the next several days. You know, just to reduce the temptation.

Ray Ratto is a columnist with the San Francisco Chronicle and a regular contributor to ESPN.com