Tommy McDonald sat nervously on the edge of his seat, the same way Philadelphia Eagles fans had to sit when they watched him play.

The 5-foot-9 receiver used to put on quite a show, weaving around tacklers and motoring to the end zone like a Tasmanian devil in a green helmet with silver wings.That was nothing compared to his performance Saturday when McDonald was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame.

"God Almighty, I feel good!" shouted McDonald, football's smallest but definitely loudest Hall of Famer.

He cracked jokes about his wife and tossed his 25-pound bronze bust around like a football. He talked to his father and Ray Nitschke, whose ghosts he claimed were standing on stage with him.

McDonald trumped that by pulling a radio out of his briefcase and dancing to disco music on the hallowed steps of the hall, live on national television.

His fellow inductees - Anthony Munoz, Mike Singletary, Paul Krause and Dwight Stephenson - received high-fives, chest bumps and a Michael Buffer-like introduction from McDonald, who reminded a bunch of tough football players how important it is to laugh.

"Oh, baby!" McDonald shouted. "Do I look excited, like I just won the lottery or the jackpot? Yes! I'm in the Hall of Fame!"

The class included perhaps the two best to play their positions (Munoz and Stephenson), and Singletary, whose piercing eyes stared down opponents during his 12-year career with the Bears.

There was the humble, soft-spoken Krause, weeping openly as he told of his wife's recovery from a near-fatal car accident. And Munoz sniffed back sobs after his 17-year-old son - already an inch taller and just as beefy as dad - gave his presentation speech.

"Most of all, thank you for being a real person, and for knowing how to admit your mistakes," said Michael Munoz, a 6-7, 320-pound all-state tackle at Cincinnati's Moeller High School. "You have modeled humility."

The inductions, witnessed by nearly 50 Hall of Famers, brought the hall's membership to 194.

McDonald stole the show, improvising and scampering around just as he did during 12 seasons with Philadelphia, Dallas, the Los Angeles Rams, Atlanta and Cleveland.

"Thank you, Canton! I love it!" he said.

"Tommy McDonald was a great football player," said former Vikings coach Jerry Burns, who followed McDonald as Krause's presenter. "But as a former coach, I can see why he played for five different teams."

Munoz, 6-6, 278 pounds, was one of the best offensive tackles ever to play. His glittering career with the Cincinnati Bengals included 11 consecutive Pro Bowls, and he was elected to the hall in his first year of eligibility.

Despite three knee injuries in four years at Southern California, Munoz started 177 of 178 games for the Bengals from 1980-91. In a pre-draft workout with Hall of Famer Forrest Gregg, Munoz convinced his future coach he was healthy.

"All of a sudden, he decided to pass rush me," Munoz said. "I jammed both hands into his chest and pushed him to the ground. Boy, I was scared."

Krause, the free safety who guarded the back door of Minnesota's "Purple People Eater" defenses of the 1960s and '70s, had an NFL-record 81 interceptions in four years with Washington and 12 with the Vikings.

His wife, Pam, is recovering from a car accident 2 1/2 years ago that left her in a coma for more than five days and close to death. Krause sobbed as she was helped to her feet to acknowledge an ovation.

"We've been through some tough times lately, but we've stuck together because we love each other," Krause said.

Singletary was the soul of the Bears' stingy "46" defense during their 15-1 season in 1985 that culminated in a Super Bowl victory over New England. He was first or second in tackles 11 years in a row and played in 10 Pro Bowls.