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EDEN PRAIRIE, Minn. -- The sneering veneers seen on many NFL
players don't typically trickle down to the punters, a position
where much of the sport's machismo has been stripped bare. You see this at Winter Park, where a couple of fresh-faced,
recent college grads have been hanging out this spring and smiling
about the chance to kick footballs high into the air for a living. There is only room for one punter on the roster, of course, so
the fulfillment of this classic "what a country" moment can't
come true for both of them -- at least at the same time, on the same
team. Chris Kluwe experienced it last season. John Torp is trying to
get a taste himself. A soccer player from age 4 until his freshman year in high
school, Kluwe began to believe in his late teens that he had the
ability to punt professionally. "I started thinking: There's really not many easier jobs out
there, than kicking a ball and getting a paycheck for it," he
said. Off he went to UCLA, where he averaged 43.4 yards per kick and
as a senior was one of three finalists for the Ray Guy Award as the
punter of the year in college football. He was on his way to the
practice squad with the Seattle Seahawks when the Vikings cut
veteran Darren Bennett and claimed Kluwe off waivers. Coach Mike Tice was just hoping the kid wouldn't mess up, but he
did so well that even Tice, who ridiculed kickers often during his
tenure, had grown fond of him by the time the leaves began falling. The 6-foot-4, 215-pound Kluwe looks like a better fit for a
basketball locker room, but his boyish enthusiasm and reverence for
the profession was a striking juxtaposition in a place where
coaching changes, blowout losses, boat parties and other boorish
behavior dominated media-generated discussions last season. Before buying his wife, Isabel, a Volvo, they shared a vehicle
and she dropped him off for practice each day -- his thick, black
hair often showing the obvious absence of a comb from his morning
routine, as if he were still in school staggering into an 8:15 a.m.
poli sci lecture. He averaged 44.1 yards per punt, good for sixth in the league
and second in the conference, before his right leg got hit after a
kick in early December. He missed one game, then returned for the
final three with an obvious limp and had reconstructive surgery to
repair a torn anterior cruciate ligament. After more than five months of rehabilitation, Kluwe will
finally be cleared to punt again next week -- giving him time to
tune up for training camp. "It's just a matter of knocking the rust off," he said,
matter-of-factly, without a hint of worry that his leg strength
will be adversely affected. That's because he's already had two
serious knee injuries, both suffered playing football, and neither
of them have hindered his career progress. So why should this one? "I've been through it before, and it's just rehab," Kluwe
said. Torp, a 6-foot-2, 205-pounder, was also a Ray Guy finalist, last
year at Colorado. Despite going undrafted after a poor showing at
the league's scouting combine, he was one of the top punting
prospects in this year's crop and has just as good of a shot to win
the job. He also has the benefit of being able to kick throughout
the team's spring minicamps and developmental practices. To him, the opportunity to get paid to punt is equally
delightful. For him, the smiles are equally plentiful. When the
boss comes over to bother them? Big deal. "I just try to go back there and harass them," coach Brad
Childress said, hardly differentiating himself from Tice's attitude
toward the kickers. "Try and see if I can get them to quit
concentrating a little bit. I'm not going to tell a guy to step in
front of the ball or step behind it or anything like that. I'm just
going to be more of a stickler back there for getting on their
nerves." There's certainly far more respect from peers, analysts and
coaches in the NFL than in college or levels lower than that, since
games can turn so fast on one mistake or one big boot. But
everybody -- including the specialists themselves -- realize what a
fantastic scam they've got going. "That's the one comment you always get: 'I wish I was a punter.
I wish I was a kicker," Torp said. Being a punter requires plenty of work and a gifted leg, but it
also takes a different approach, with the reality that they don't
have a multimillion-dollar signing bonus to fall back on. The
realization of an occupation so fleeting requires a grounded
perspective that seems in short supply at other positions. "I'm enjoying it now while I can, and hopefully I can be smart
with my money and do life after football," Kluwe said. ^------= Dave Campbell can be reached at dcampbell(at)ap.org
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