Ah, the life of a kicker. The difference between the oh-so-awkward perpetual silent treatment and being carried off the field atop a pack of crazed victory-drunk muscle machines can be as simple as laces in or laces out.
Eric Bjonerud, the Hoya kicker who sent his team home from Bucknell with their first win of the season, doesn’t think about any of this. As a matter of fact, he doesn’t think about much of anything when he’s out there. He says there’s no pressure, and he means it.
But can it be true? Even when the game is on the line with 15 seconds left? Even with the threat of a bus load of angry, success-starved defensive linemen breathing down his neck like a brood of hungry freshman waiting in line at Leo’s on Chicken Finger Thursday?
“When we got into field-goal range, I knew we were going to win,” the senior place-kicker said. “I feel the same pressure on every kick, but it’s not a lot of pressure at all because I know what I’m doing and it’s all I do in practice. I feel like pressure would be me throwing a touchdown pass because I’d have no idea what the heck I was doing.”
The local from down the road in Potomac, Md. reeks of confidence, just as he did two years ago when he kicked another game winner in the waning seconds at Bucknell. He may be dartboard material for the Bison—something the swaggering kicker would love, if for no other reason than his picture would be hung up for anyone to admire.
Bjonerud, who jokes that his confidence comes from his good looks, is very serious in his ability to kick an oblong ball through a pair of yellow metal posts.
So confident, in fact, that over the summer he was willing to put his money on it—with no odds on making any in return. To practice pressurized situations, Bjonerud would tell a friend to place the ball anywhere within the hash marks within 52 yards of the goalposts. If he missed any of the kicks, he’d lose all the money in his wallet.
“It was good to get used to some pressure,” said Bjonerud. “I did lose twenty bucks once, though.”
The source of his self-assurance is easily traceable. Just head to the field, the weight room or his living room, and it becomes evident. The kid lives football. It’s quite the feat when the hundreds of hours spent practicing, working out and attending team meetings will yield him a minute or two in total playing time this year.
He’s been to more workouts than any senior on the team in his career, not missing a summer or spring workout in four years. He’s first on the field for the team’s break-of-dawn practices with the special teams.
He even springs for pizza for his holder (and housemate), senior captain Matt Bassuener, and his snapper, junior Nick Umar, every Thursday night so that they can watch college football together. It’s a bond that helped them get off the winning field goal last Saturday in 1.2 seconds, just before a looming Bison defender got a hand on it.
One tenth of a second later and the Hoyas lose, probably losing Bjonerud some friends as well. Confronted with that possible outcome, Bjonerud sounds almost confused, hesitating for a moment when he’s usually quick to quip.
“Yeah, well you know I wasn’t going to miss.”
