Why so little love for NFL kickers?

January 28, 2012|Jim Litke, AP Sports Writer

It’s hardly a coincidence that the weirdest pass ever thrown in the history of the Super Bowl was launched by — who else? — a kicker.

It came near the end of the big game in 1973, with the Miami Dolphins already leading 14-0 and looking to add a field goal to put the game out of reach. Instead, Washington Redskins defenders poured into the backfield and blocked the kick, sending the ball bounding backwards. There it was scooped up by a 5-foot-7 immigrant from Cyprus named Garo Yepremian, who soon after arriving watched a few minutes of a game on TV and decided on the spot the way to succeed in America was to play professional football. On the run for his life at that moment, with the ball in his hands and only a vague idea of what to do next, Yepremian threw it up for grabs — a peace offering to the pack of wolves pursuing him — then batted it into the air a second time after the first one wound up back in his arms. It was eventually corralled by Redskin safety Mike Bass, who returned it unhindered up the left sideline for a touchdown.

The last player to wave him on by was — who else? — Yepremian. That feat became the jumping-off point for the movie, “Ace Ventura: Pet Detective,’’ and was immortalized in a ditty dubbed “The Lonesome Kicker’’ by comedian Adam Sandler.

Kicking “can be so very scary,’’ Sandler sang, “especially, if the returner breaks on through. I’m the only guy on the playing field left to tackle him and I don’t want to get hurt, so I pretend to tie my shoe.’’

All these years later, too many fans, and even some teammates, can’t shake that image from their mind. They still regard kickers as do-nothings and aliens, at worst, or necessary evils at best, which is strange when you consider the name of the game.

Their misses don’t explain it, not even the misses with the spotlight up full, the way Billy Cundiff did in last weekend’s AFC championship — wide left from 32 yards out — with the clock ticking down on the Baltimore Ravens’ season. Every player whiffs, or blinks, or blows an assignment on occasion, sometimes when it matters every bit as much.

Linemen lose their grip, quarterbacks slip, receivers drop passes, running backs and return men go down from glancing blows while an open field stares them in the face. But nobody keeps stats on those missed opportunities handy, or asks the perpetrators whether they intend to jump out of a window anytime soon.