Billy Cundiff: A man alone amongst his team

By Brendan Bures

“I wish the game had ended better than that.”

By my exact calculations, you have heard someone say that at some point over this NFL postseason, unless watching each game alone in silence is your thing.

Football fans crave a two-minute drill to end each exciting game. Fans of specific teams might think differently (I’d prefer the Jacksonville Jaguars and the Florida State Seminoles to blow out every team they face), but holistically, fans enjoy watching close, competitive games. That means most games come down to a kick.

Field goals don’t make sense within the context of a game dominated by men exerting their force over one another every play. Field goals are the rare moments of finesse seen on a football field: The distinct moment when physicality fades away and a kicker’s mentality pervades the play.

Analysts or coaches will describe kicking a field goal as settling for points ignoring the idea that games are won by point totals, not touchdowns. They argue that because scoring 21 points is easier by scoring three touchdowns instead of seven field goals—an irrefutable fact. And so kickers are relegated to the bottoms of the depth chart, forgotten unless called upon.

Being a kicker, I’d imagine, is a lot like being a goalie in hockey or soccer. These players are isolated from the rest of the team, like an unhygienic kid at an elementary cafeteria. They wear the same jerseys as the rest of their teammates, but they aren’t integrated within a team’s community. While the rest of the team runs Oklahoma drills or water breaks after a tough scrimmage, a kicker remains alone, kicking the same balls through the same field goal post only varying his distance from time to time.

Games are no different. Kickers sequester themselves along the sidelines, waiting for that time to matter, to prove their worth to giants three times their size. By contract, a kicker is only required to kick once a game, the kickoff to began either half. The kicker’s life revolves around the team—if the offense fails to reach the opponent’s 30-yard line, a kicker may never step on the field on that day—save his one solo act.

And so a kicker waits until called upon, like Baltimore Ravens kicker Billy Cundiff who sat along the sidelines trying to stay warm by the portable heaters. Cundiff entered the game against the New England Patriots ten total times out of a possible 138 plays, a mere 7.25% total usage rate. The numbers don’t matter to Cundiff, he’s happy just to have a job. Cundiff was signed by the Dallas Cowboys in 2002 as an undrafted free agent, but was released in 2005 for missing two crucial kicks against the Carolina Panthers. Cundiff would bounce around teams, hoping to land eventually. He didn’t. He signed contracts at various places, but would lose out to veterans or newcomers and wouldn’t have a team to kick for in 2007 or 2008. Cundiff tried out for the Baltimore Ravens in 2009 and has stayed since. His revival was complete with a 2011 Pro Bowl invitation for scoring on 26 of 29 field goal attempts and for his league-high 40 touchbacks during a time when the NFL didn’t value player safety so highly.

With 2:53 left in the game, Ravens’ coach John Harbaugh ignored Cundiff. Harbaugh believed more in his percentages to convert a 4th and six play against the Patriots than for Cundiff to kick a 50-yard field goal. The Ravens would fall short, but Cundiff would have his time for redemption. After WR Lee Evans had a touchdown catch knocked out of his hands before securing a football position, Cundiff is called for a 32-yard field goal.

The play doesn’t run as planned. The kicking unit lags behind with the play clock ticking down and every moment rushes faster than contrived. The hold is spotty and Cundiff pushes the ball wide. Patriots coach Bill Belichick, the man who contains himself to three emotions per week limit, stands in disbelief. He celebrates soon after, but for two to three seconds, he can’t comprehend the events that transpired.
Twitter blazes with critiques and attacks. The soft-spoken Skip Bayless tweets: “[The Ravens] lost [because] a nonplayer missed easy kick. WHY I HATE FG KICKING. Ban it!”

His ESPN Twelfth Take partner weighs in as well: “This is why Kickers are hated. That boy Cundiff would NOT fly home with my team. He’d fly commercial. And then for him to block the camera..”

You read correctly. A man who feels all the guilt for the loss and senses the sadness of his teammates, coaches and fans across America, should be criticized for not wanting cameras in his face in that moment. What a selfish move for a man who dedicates everything to his team.

Amidst the slogging, a Florida State player tweeted how his team would respond to the situation. FSU cornerback Greg Reid tweeted consecutively, “If my boy D HOP [FSU kicker, Dustin Hopkins] missed it, I’ll still love him the same no matter what. He never should have been in the situation. I’ll just BLAME it on ME & keep it moving.”

Billy Cundiff never should have been needed to win the game, but that won’t be the story written about this game. It will be about his failure, not Lee Evans for dropping a touchdown, not his head coach John Harbaugh for dismissing his extra time out at the end of the game and certainly not Ravens offensive coordinator Cam Cameron for his idiotic playcalling.

Kickers are only remembered for losing or an excess of achievement. Otherwise, they do what is expected of them when the time comes and if they do, they’ll fade away to the outskirts of the team until next time. In fact, people have already forgotten the name of the New York Giants kicker. Why? Because he won.

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