The Small, Intense, Unfairly Exclusive World of Football Placekickers
Brent Grablachoff says he isn't a yeller, but six hours into his second day in a row of coaching, he sounds like one. He's trying to pump up 18 high-school football players competing to see who can connect on the longest field goal; this contest is the grand finale of his two-day camp for teenagers who want a shot at becoming kickers and punters.
It's 93 degrees in Toms River, New Jersey, but it feels hotter on the unshaded artificial turf, and over the constant thud of high schoolers' cleats connecting with footballs, you can somehow hear Grablachoff's increasingly hoarse voice. "Fifteen minutes of chaotic kicking!" he yells, or at least tries to. "Coming your way, guys!"
He keeps moving the ball back, and as the contest progresses, he'll winnow down this already-small group to just one or two players.
In a way, it's a small-scale illustration of the years-long process it takes to become a kicker.
Most casual fans tend to only think about kickers when they materialize in an NFL stadiums on Sundays, ready to be celebrated for their clutch kicks, mocked for their misses, and laughed at for having scrawny arms on a field full of giants. But to get to the NFL, a kicker has to kick in college. To kick in college, he needs to get noticed by a college coach while he's in high school. And, crucially, to build the kind of repertoire that catches the attention of a coach or recruiter, he must spend countless
