Where others might snap, Trey Junkin is a stand-up guy

Published Thursday, Jan 19, 2012 at 2:40 pm EST
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As the New York Giants finished off the Green Bay Packers on Sunday, Trey Junkin knew it was coming. He'd be asked to re-live and re-live the worst moment of his professional life.

That's because it was arguably the worst moment of his professional life.

Trey Junkin's botched snap sends the Giants into abort mode on a field-goal attempt. Result: The 49ers deny the Giants a trip to the Super Bowl. (Getty Images)

"You know it's going to get ugly this week," Junkin told his wife, Sarah.

Junkin botched the snap on a field-goal attempt the last time the Giants and San Francisco 49ers met in the playoffs. It wasn't just any try. It was the last-second attempt that would have avoided a 39-38 cataclysm in San Francisco.

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By eliminating the Packers, the Giants set up a Niners rematch this week for the NFC title.

Sure enough, Junkin's phone started ringing Sunday night. He was amazed reporters could find a guy with an unlisted number in little old Winnfield, La.

I hated to add to the ugliness, but Junkin's story was irresistible. A long and almost impeccable career vanished in a snap. There would never be a happy ending.

How do you live with that?

"I owned it," Junkin said.

That's what makes his story redemptive, if not exactly happy. It seems nobody wants to take responsibility these days. Politicians pass the buck like Tom Brady passes the football. Athletes point anonymous fingers.

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Junkin made a monumental mistake, but he has never made excuses.

"For nine years," he said, "I've owned all of it."

When it comes to what happened Jan. 5, 2003, Junkin deserved to own a lot less. He had been with the Giants all of four days. He was 41 and happily retired after 19 years in the NFL.

Then the Giants' deep snapper got injured. The emergency call went out.

"It's like a toilet," Junkin said of his specialty. "You don't even think about it until it's broken. Then it's a mad scramble to fix it."

The Giants had a 38-14 lead over the Niners with 16 minutes left — then everything went in the toilet. Jeremy Shockey dropped a potential touchdown pass. The offense couldn't get a first down. The defense couldn't stop Jeff Garcia.

Matt Bryant missed a field-goal try after a low snap from Junkin. It just set up the final play, when the Giants lined up for a 41-yard attempt.

"Nice and easy," holder Matt Allen told Junkin.

The power of suggestion took hold. Junkin's snapped a one-hopper back to Allen, who yelled "Fire! Fire!"

That was the call when the kick is aborted. Allen scrambled and heaved a pass to lineman Rich Seubert, who was run over by the 49ers Chike Okeafor.

You want a botch? It should have been pass interference, but the refs called illegal receiver downfield. They forgot that Seubert had checked in as an eligible receiver before the play.

NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue said it was the worst officiating blunder during his regime. Instead of getting another field-goal shot, the Giants got the distinction of choking the second-biggest lead in playoff history.

It was a team effort, but everybody looked at one guy. Junkin stood at his locker at Candlestick Park and fought back tears.

"I cost 58 guys a chance to go to the Super Bowl," he said. "I'd give anything in the world, except my family, right now to still be retired."

The next day as the Giants cleaned out their lockers, Junkin stood for an hour and was grilled all over again.

"I could have hidden in the weight room like a lot of people did," he said. "But I firmly believe you've got to stand by your actions."

The next day he got on a plane, met his wife in New Orleans and drank for three nights.

Junkin had played 281 games since being drafted as a tight end out of Louisiana Tech. He was a meticulous student of the football sciences.

He developed a training program that got his 40-yard dash time down to 4.3 seconds. He pioneered the specialization of deep snapping.

Out of 2,000 or so times he'd crouched and fired the ball between his legs, he could count the number of bad ones on one hand.

Junkin could have retired the Da Vinci of deep snapping. That one snap turned the Mona Lisa into a black-velvet painting of Fat Elvis.

"Everybody remembers that 0.2 seconds," he said.

He wonders if that moment has also botched his football afterlife. Junkin knows so much about deep snapping that he's written a book about it. He thinks he'd make a fine special-teams coach, but he's never gotten a nibble.

"I don't know what the problem is," he said. "It may be that I'm the world's worst (rear end)-kisser. I just can't do it. I have a bad habit of speaking my mind."

He scouted for the Oakland Raiders a few years ago. He said they fired him after he kept pushing them to draft a running back they weren't impressed with.

It was Joseph Addai.

"I don't know if I blackballed myself," Junkin said, "or that one snap blackballed me."

With his football knowledge and quick opinions, he'd make a good TV analyst. That's not going to happen in Winnfield, a town of about 5,600 in the middle of the state.

"There's hunting, fishing and a (bleepy) little golf course," Junkin said.

One thing he does to stay busy is volunteer coach at Winnfield High. When I called there hoping to run him down, another coach told me it was useless.

"He's in prison," the coach said.


"I'm joking," he said.

Well, yes and no. Junkin can't escape what happened in San Francisco. The punishment hasn't fit the crime, but he'll still be cheering hard for the Giants on Sunday.

It's his 51st birthday. Junkin figures maybe they'll send him a T-shirt if they get to the Super Bowl. A win might also keep his phone from ringing the next time New York plays San Francisco in the playoffs.

Yeah, it's been a rough week. But looking back has served a purpose.

For 19 years, Junkin was known for crouching down.

For the rest of his life, he should be remembered as a stand-up guy.