Called On in a Snap

"Ethan is awesome," said Redskins punter Tom Tupa, entering his 18th season. "The guy is just automatic. He gives you all the confidence in the world to just know the ball is coming where it needs to be, and you can just get into the flow of the kick. You see what happens to some teams when mishaps occur, and, knock on wood, we don't have them around here."

That wasn't the case in January 2000, when the Redskins lost an opportunity to attempt a potential game-winning kick in an NFC second-round playoff game against Tampa Bay when Dan Turk flubbed his snap. Albright's Bills had just been eliminated from the playoffs by Tennessee in the "Music City Miracle" the previous week, and he watched Turk's blunder from home. "The 'Music City Miracle' was my lowest moment in sports, then I watch the Redskins line up for a field goal and they couldn't execute the kick," Albright said. "I got selfish all of a sudden, thinking, 'Well, we could have lost a playoff game like that.' "

Turk was promptly cut by Washington, and his brother, Matt, a premier punter, was dealt for a seventh-round pick. Dan Turk learned he had cancer three months after his last NFL snap went awry in that 14-13 defeat, and he died in December 2000.

More recently, a botched release by Trey Junkin -- the very face of long snapping over 20 NFL seasons -- deprived the New York Giants of a potential game-winning, 41-yard field goal in 2003. Albright, who has not had the chance to speak to Junkin since the incident, was watching at home.

"Oh, man, every hair on the back of my neck stood up," Albright said. "I felt so bad for him. That's my living nightmare, to let my team down. They count on me to do the job, and it's not like there are eight guys in camp having long snapper tryouts. It's, 'Ethan, do your job,' and I kind of like having that spot on the team and I don't ever want to let anybody down, because I know how hard everybody else is working. I'm working hard doing things, too, but it's not like banging your head every play like those guys are."

Out of Junkin's misery came a new respect for long snappers. In recent years the elite have been able to pull in $300,000 signing bonuses, and there is no longer a stigma for someone who only snaps. The salary cap era -- which began when Albright entered the league -- has brought parity, with little separating most teams in the standings and games routinely coming down to three points or less.

"Sometimes you say, 'Well, you know, what are these guys worth?' Breaux said. " 'How much should they be paid?' But I guarantee you every coach in his career has been burned by one in the past, and they all want a good one now."

Abuse Is Part of the Job

For all of their gains, the willingness to be the butt of jokes remains a necessary element of a long snapper's job. Albright has heard 'em all, and the intensity of the ribbing is the worst this time of year, amid the two-a-day sessions when the disparity between what is being demanded of the snapper and the rest of the team is most apparent.

"Do they ever get abuse," said Ray Brown, a failed long snapper entering his 20th season as an offensive lineman. "Especially if you're a big guy. It's a highly skilled position, but long snapper? He's a good guy, but he meets with the kickers and punters, man. Come on. They're valuable guys, but come on."

Albright, whose nickname "Red Snapper" was a natural given his hair color and profession, basks in the barbs. Without them, the job would not be as fun, and he would not feel as much a part of the team: "If I didn't hear that stuff, I would feel pretty isolated," he said. And in the end, the snapper usually gets the last laugh: In a league that chews up bodies, Albright is in his prime despite his age.

"I'll tell you what, he'll probably play until he's 50 years old," said Joe Bugel, assistant head coach-offense.

With four children age 6 and younger, including a newborn, Albright would settle for another 10 years. He participates fully in the Redskins' offseason workout program -- flying from his home in Greensboro to Dulles every Monday morning and returning Thursday night -- and hits the weights during the season. But he is now a modest 265 pounds, after bulking up when he still dreamed of being an offensive lineman in his younger days. Albright grasps his place in the game, and relishes it. He put in years battling at the line of scrimmage, through high school, college, several NFL training camps and yearns for it no more.

"I'm kind of past that now," Albright said. "I see the kids coming out of college, and they're huge. I peaked at around 310, and I was giving it my best shot, but I was never going to be able to compete with these kind of guys. I did my time. For nine years or so, I did all reps with the linemen, and in training camp I know how hard those guys work. Sometimes I find myself looking over my shoulder thinking, 'I'm supposed to be over there doing that, too.' But now I'm doing what I'm asked to do, and we're doing our drill work [with the punters and kickers], and I'm focused only on long snapping now."

All things considered, life is very, very good. And on certain days in August, while the sun bakes the helmets of LaVar Arrington and Clinton Portis, the big fellow in the baseball cap might be the luckiest of them all.