Raiders’ Tavecchio tutors reporter in art of field-goal kicking
‘We’re gonna take a look under the hood for the art, science of kicking’
BERKELEY >> On a football field next to Cal’s Memorial Stadium, with an NFL kicker watching, my 36yard field goal sailed through the uprights.
“If I coach him, he’s gonna take my job,” said the kicker, Giorgio Tavecchio of the Raiders.
My objective wasn’t to take any jobs, as if there was even a chance of that. My objective was to learn what really goes into kicking field goals, every intricacy leading up to the seconds-long sequence that makes a kicker a hero or a goat. The perception of kicking might be that it’s simple: jog onto the field, kick a football, jog off. But it couldn’t be as simple as it looks, could it?
I enlisted Tavecchio, the former Cal star who kicked for the Raiders last season, to teach me the ins and outs. He would first observe me kicking, then educate me on
details big to small based on what he saw. Then, as a grand finale, we would compete: my right foot against his left, with a videographer there to record the historic event.
“We’re gonna take a look under the hood for the art and the science of kicking, hopefully make some good memories,” Tavecchio said to the camera as he patted me on the back, “and get this guy hitting some deep kicks.”
Tavecchio, 27, cycled through four NFL teams from 2012-17 without making a 53-man roster. He finally got his chance last season when the Raiders placed Sebastian Janikowski on injured reserve the day before the season opener. The next day, in his NFL debut, Tavecchio made four field goals, including two from 52 yards. He was named AFC Special Teams Player of the Week. For the season, he was 16 of 21 on field-goal attempts and 33 of 34 on extra points.
Shortly after he agreed to participate in this story, and 15 days before we met, I joined a gym. I focused on lower-body exercises: leg press, calf raises, weighted leg lifts, high-resistance stationary bike. My hope was to pack a couple of extra yards into my right leg. Later, after asking Tavecchio how he generates so much power from a 5-foot-10-inch frame, I learned my workout plan wasn’t diverse enough. I should have worked my core
more, he advised.
“I like to really be locked and loaded through the core. When I’m locked here,” he said, pointing to his midsection, “I coordinate and connect my whole body.
“I almost recruit my whole body to kick the ball,” he added, rotating his entire body in one forward motion. “It’s not just my leg. That also helps with power but also with control because it’s not just my leg swinging.”
I played four years of high school soccer and frequented
summer leagues back home in Connecticut, but I never kicked footballs. And after a year on the Raiders beat, writing and traveling most of the time, I’m hardly in peak condition.
My right hamstring was nearing its tearing point when Tavecchio calmly approached Gate 1 of Memorial Stadium. A green bag almost as big as he was draped over one shoulder; in it were footballs and metal holders. In his hand, he carried a brown paper bag with three croissants from his favorite bakery
He offered one. I deferred, telling him I wouldn’t eat until I made at least a 35yard field goal.
“Setting the bar … medium,” he said with a chuckle.
I took a few warmups, kicking from between 20 and 35 yards with varying outcomes. All reached the goalposts, but some veered right, some veered left, some split the uprights, some were so low they would have been blocked in a game. My aim and air time clearly needed help.
Tavecchio noticed my plant foot (my left) was pointing too far right rather than straight at the goalposts when I made contact with the ball; that explained the kicks that drifted wide right. I also used too much toe rather than the middle of my foot and hit too high a spot on the ball. Fixing those would help my lift.
Then there’s how far behind the ball to start (about 3 yards), at what angle to take steps back (three straight back, two at a 90-degree angle sideways), how many steps to take in a run-up (three) and which foot to step with first (nonkicking foot). Oh, and how to keep your foot locked (I still don’t know how), what to do with your midsection when kicking (keep it vertical with a sharp rotation), how to follow through (bring your kicking leg high across your body and land lightly on your plant foot) and probably more details Tavecchio held back so my brain wouldn’t explode.
When I focused on one, I forgot the others. Pointed my plant foot straight … not enough lift. Sufficient lift … plant foot strayed right. That was the point of this: to show it’s not as simple as “former soccer player puts down his phone and effortlessly hits field goals.” Not to mention there was nothing at stake — yet — and no mammoth defensive line charging my way or human holder and long snapper with whom I needed to orchestrate. Tavecchio deals with all those elements every kick and still makes it look easy.
After 30 minutes of practice, it was time for the competition, or however much of one I would make it. We started from 25 yards. Make it, you move back. Miss twice from a spot, and you’re done.
Sure enough, my first 25-yarder screamed left. I hit 25-yarders with ease earlier, but now I was in my own head with something at stake. Luckily, I snuck the next one inside the right post. From the subsequent 30-, 33- and 36-yard spots, I missed my first and made my second.
From 38 yards, my first kick missed wide right despite having enough juice. At that point, I was too nervous with the camera at my side to consciously point my plant foot forward or sharply turn my torso or hit the ball low enough for lift. All I wanted was to generate enough power, then hope the ball stayed straight. Pressure won, and I blasted another wide right.
Tavecchio was perfect — didn’t come close to missing until banging a 60-yarder off the left upright. So yeah, the morning pretty much went as you might have expected.
But I met my goal — surpassed it by a yard, in fact. With an NFL kicker looking on, I hit a 36-yarder.
Now I accepted the croissant.
Tavecchio stuffed his green bag into the back seat of my car, and we drove to his car a few blocks away. He would return to the same field the next morning, and probably the morning after, for more practice.
Such is the life of an NFL kicker, every day honing details that already have been mastered. Maybe it makes sense I couldn’t perfect the craft in an hour, or even come close.
Instead of returning to the field, I returned to my computer where I belong. My quads throbbed for three days. Such is the life of an NFL beat writer who tried to play with the big boys for a day.
Tavecchio was perfect — didn’t come close to missing until banging a 60-yarder off the left upright. So yeah, the morning pretty much went as you might have expected.