Colts long snapper Justin Snow, hiking the ball to holder Hunter Smith during a field-goal drill, might go unnoticed by fans but not by his coaches and teammates. "A good long snapper," coach Tony Dungy said, "is worth his weight in gold." The third-year player from Baylor, who knows a bad snap could cost him his job, also is a backup tight end. -- Matt Detrich / staff photo

Special teams' subtle specialist

By Phil Richards

phil.richards@indystar.com

September 13, 2002

Justin Snow has one of the most peculiar jobs in football, and one of the more difficult. He lines up with his head between his legs. His margin for error is zero. His job is on the line every play, as are his health and well-being.

Snow is the Indianapolis Colts' long snapper.

On the first snap of the first preseason game of Snow's rookie year, an Atlanta defensive tackle fell on his leg. Snow's hamstring popped. His memories of the final game of that 2000 preseason, against Minnesota, are a little less clear. He got blindsided and suffered a concussion. He spent the night in the hospital.

"Welcome to the NFL," he said.

Snow has been more fortunate since, but he was still wondering when the Colts went to Buffalo for the fourth game of his rookie season. He found himself lined up across from Bills tackles Ted Washington and Pat Johnson. Washington was listed at 6-5, 330 pounds, Johnson at 6-3, 310.

Snow knew better.

"They're 400 bills each and they're right over my head," he said. "These guys are going to crush me. I've got my big guys beside me, but they're coming after me. They're going to fall on me."

It didn't happen, and neither did Snow cave in on his own. Colts place-kicker Mike Vanderjagt won the game, 18-16, with a 45-yard field goal at the gun, but not without an assist. Snow's snap was as perfect as it was unnoticed.

Such is the deep snapper's craft. The best couldn't be more anonymous if they wore their helmets backward. They are notorious only for their mistakes, and in two years, plus, Snow has attracted notice only for the alacrity with which he gets downfield after snapping, blocking and releasing on punts. He is an athletic 6-3, 242-pounder with a defensive mentality. He made seven special teams tackles last season.

He has yet to launch a snap or whiff a block that has led to a blocked kick or punt or a missed field goal or extra point.

Colts president Bill Polian rates that kind of competence as "critically important." Coach Tony Dungy considers long snapping one of football's most underappreciated aspects.

"A good long snapper," said Dungy, "is worth his weight in gold."

That's difficult to dispute.

Vanderjagt is the most accurate kicker in NFL history and teammate Hunter Smith is emerging as one of the league's best punters. Snow is the silent partner in both players' success.

"Our jobs are in no way mutually exclusive," said Smith, whose 44.5-yard average was the NFL's fourth best last season. "They are completely dependent upon one another. I have to have Justin to do my job."

Bradford Banta handled the Colts' long snapping the six years previous to Snow's arrival as a free agent from Baylor University.

"When they cut Bradford, I was devastated. I thought life was over," said Vanderjagt, who has converted 114-of-131 field goal attempts, .870 accuracy.

"Justin came in and from Day 1 proved that he was as good as anybody in the league. I wouldn't trade him for anybody. I wouldn't want Bradford back."

Snow's is a precise science, and he generally gets eight to 10 opportunities a game.

Smith lines up 15 yards deep on punts. Snow aims for his right hip, and usually puts his tight spiral within a few inches. Of course it's not that simple. The football has to arrive in .72 seconds. Consistently.

Same thing on place-kicks. Smith is the holder. He sets up 73/4 yards deep. Snow aims at Smith's left elbow. The football arrives in .35 seconds. It arrives with the laces up, at 12 o'clock. Only the most minute rotation is occasionally necessary. The hold is down and the kick is off at 1.3 seconds.

The kicking balls introduced in 1999 are slick and hard, and weather conditions can be miserable. Wind. Rain. Cold, wet hands. Wet ball.

No matter. Consistency is crucial. Any variation comes at the price of rhythm, and rhythm is the stuff of success.

"Under 1.25 and you're going too fast. Around 1.4 and you're going to slow," said Vanderjagt. "It's a huge difference. It's the difference between making and missing the kick."

Smith ranks with the Colts' best athletes. He ran down Deion Sanders in a game against Dallas in 1999. More important, Smith has exceptional hands. That gives Snow a little margin. Snow knows that Smith is going to go down and get a low snap, recover and make the hold or get off a good punt.

Still, the pressure is considerable. Wide receiver Marvin Harrison might drop a pass; he probably will catch the next one. Running back Edgerrin James might lose a fumble; he's going to get the ball again regardless, and soon.

"If you have a bad snap, it could cost you your career," said Snow, who is a backup tight end. "I tell myself, 'I've done this a million times. No difference here.' Whether it's 'Monday Night Football,' the Super Bowl, the game-winning kick, what's the difference?"

Those who handle it can have long careers.

Banta is with Detroit, in his ninth season. Trey Junkin played 19 years with five teams before being released by Arizona last season.

Dallas had six kicks blocked and went through three long snappers last year. The Cowboys were willing to pay for a long-term fix during the off-season. They signed Jeff Robinson, a free agent from St. Louis, to a four-year, $4.8 million deal that included an $850,000 signing bonus.

Most long snappers -- who usually double as reserve offensive linemen, tight ends and linebackers -- earn the league minimum. That's enough to pay the bills. A third-year player like Snow is guaranteed $375,000. Get to 10 years and over, and it's $750,000.

"A speech pathologist makes about $50,000," said Snow, who returned to Baylor after his rookie season to earn his master's in that discipline. "I take this seriously. I'm hard on myself. I want to be the best and do it for a long time."

That Snow got the opportunity at all is something of a wonder. He was one of college football's best-kept secrets. He almost remained one.

Polian made the trip to Waco, Texas, in 1999 to visit his son Brian, then a Baylor graduate assistant coach. While there, Polian went out to practice early one day, when only the specialists were working. He spotted Snow snapping hard, tight, on-target spirals, one after another.

"Who's that?" Polian asked his son.

Brian explained that Snow was the Bears' best long snapper but that they didn't use him because he also was one of their top defensive linemen.

"It was just dumb luck," said Polian. "As Dom Anile is fond of saying, we put his name in a drawer."

Anile is the Colts' director of football operations. When Snow's phone rang the day the 2000 draft concluded, it was Anile's office calling. Snow no longer was a long shot. He was about to become a long snapper.