McDonald Finds His Job With the Rams a Snap
If you’ve ever played a moment’s worth of football--from Pop Warner to touch in the backyard--then you surely know the four most despised words in the game: “You hike the ball.”
In my old neighborhood, hiking the ball was the ultimate indignity and a rite of passage all wrapped into one. It was only slightly better than being told, “You block, and for jimminy sakes, keep the fat kid off me, will ya?”
The only redeemable feature of hiking the ball was that moment when everything rested in your hands, when the accuracy of a single snap could alter a game. But it wasn’t enough. Too much pressure. Too much complaining.
“Hey, kid, good hike job. I was able to pick it up on the fourth bounce.”
“Hey, kid, don’t you got a clarinet lesson or something to go to?”
And when things became hopeless . . .
“Hey, kid, you block. And keep the fat kid off me, will ya?”
This is how the kids on my block were raised: Avoid snapping at all costs. Become receivers. Insist on the quarterback position. Leave all interior line work, especially hiking the ball, to players with thick ankles.
But now comes proof that we were wrong, terribly so. We should have snapped ourselves silly. We should have learned how to flick the ball through our legs and send it spiraling toward a punter or a placekick holder. We should have wanted to see the world as snappers do: upside down.
Mike McDonald did and look where it got him. He has a spot on the Ram active roster. He’s a vested veteran, which makes him eligible for all sorts of post-National Football League benefits. He earns a wonderful wage--about $82,000. And all because he can snap.
We’re not talking quarterback snaps here. Anyone can do that. Oh-fer, the Ram team dog, can somehow nudge a ball into a quarterback’s hands. We’re talking long snaps to a punter stationed 15 yards behind the line of scrimmage . . . with a defensive lineman poised to send a forearm in your face mask or the top of a helmet into the small of your back . . . with a bad snap meaning a blocked punt is likely. We’re speaking about a snap of 7 1/2 yards to placekicker Mike Lansford or, more accurately, holder Pete Holohan . . . with three points on the line, maybe the game . . . with the same defensive lineman ready to rub your face in the turf.
That’s pressure. That’s also why McDonald, who was nothing more than an adequate second-string linebacker at USC, is in the NFL today.
McDonald reminds you of the dearly retired Dennis Harrah, a player with a, uh, zest for life. McDonald, unmistakable because of his buzz cut, is the same way. He can barely finish a sentence without finding a place in it for a laugh. The scam of all time? Sure it is, he says.
“I got into the league through the back door,” he says. “I shouldn’t be able to play this game probably.”
Scratch the probably. According to special teams’ coach Artie Gigantino, who also coached McDonald at USC and later used him as a graduate assistant, McDonald wouldn’t be employed as a professional linebacker anywhere.
Anywhere? “No! Absolutely not,” says Gigantino, almost smirking as he considers the idea.
But ask Gigantino if he’d like to trade snappers and his face goes semi-ashen.
“I think snapping is one of the most underrated talents in the National Football League,” he says. “Of the 28 teams, there are maybe 16 good snappers. No one ever appreciates the value of a snapper until things go bad.”
Says placekicker Mike Lansford: “McDonald’s about the best, too.”
The Rams appreciate McDonald enough to give him a place on the 45-man roster, which is quite a compliment, as well as a commitment. McDonald, in his fourth year on the Rams, says he expected to be far removed from the game after leaving USC. “I thought, ‘Nobody is going to bring a guy in to snap.’ Then lo and behold . . .”
What can be so difficult about snapping a football that 12 of the 28 teams could use help? How can the skill be so vital that teams reserve places on the depth chart for a player whose main talent is heaving a ball between his legs?
“I don’t know,” says McDonald, who considers snapping a breeze. “Thank God it is. If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here.”
McDonald plays on the punt coverage, placekick and extra point teams (naturally) and also the kickoff return and kickoff coverage teams. In essence, though, the Rams hired him because he can send a snap back to the punter in about .75 of a second. The NFL average, Gigantino says, is between .8 and .85. He can also get the ball into Holohan’s hands with ease.
Despite his obvious worth, McDonald takes his share of abuse, mostly from his teammates and coaches. Among his nicknames: ‘Old Snap and Drink,’ ‘Mothballs,’ ‘Chubby.’
“Hey, you do whatever it takes to get in,” McDonald says. “It’s paying my bills right now, with a little extra, too.”
McDonald learned how to snap while playing for his Pop Warner team, the Burbank Vikings. Jack Morales, his coach, taught him. Now McDonald swears that if the Rams make it to the Super Bowl, Morales is coming as his personal guest.
And if things don’t work out, if McDonald finds himself back in the real world, he says he’ll have no hard feelings. He has his real estate and broker’s license. He also runs an office supply company. He’ll be fine.
But snapping the football is his first love. And what a courtship it has been.
