Cooper Wolka’s place kicking career is typical of many and barring a national survey, probably unique among all.
The Brownstown Central junior is an everyday kicker, meaning he is a specialist whose listing on the depth chart reads “K” and nothing else, not defensive or offensive end, too. Wolka may be unique because he may be the only kicker in the country who has a heart condition.
Coaches sometimes joke about how the guys they rely on for field goals or who put up the occasional wobbly extra point give them heart attacks. In this case, the goal is to prevent Wolka from having one.
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This means teammates are not allowed to tackle him, or otherwise try to flatten him. This also leaves Wolka open to teasing, the exempt status signifying he is a wuss.
“All the time,” Wolka said of the ribbing he receives. “I get off easy (in practice) because I don’t do a thing.”
He doesn’t run sprints, or up and down the field, doesn’t go through drills. Although not for the same reason, kickers on most teams pretty much do their own thing.
It was in the 1960s when kickers, in the minds of many other players, ceased being football players. Pat Summerall, the famous sportscaster, was a kicker-end with the New York Giants. The Lou Groza Award, given to the top college kicker, is named for someone who was as much tackle with the Cleveland Browns as kicker.
Those men played in the 1950s and 1960s, pretty much the last time kickers booted field goals and extra points with a straight-ahead style. Since the Gogolak brothers came along, pioneer Pete and then Charlie, introducing the soccer style approach, nobody uses the old manner.
Wolka is pretty sure he has never seen anyone kick with a head-on approach.
“I don’t think so,” he said.
As the 2-1 Braves worked out earlier this week for their Friday night game at 3-1 North Harrison, Wolka was not in the mix. Toting around his own bag of balls, Wolka set up his own kicks at the opposite end of the field.
While the coaches introduce new offensive and defensive alignments, Wolka seeks to obtain the perfect rhythm for kicking extra points. The Braves could be practicing the Statue of Liberty or an everybody-go-long call and Wolka wouldn’t know the formation.
“No, I don’t know the plays,” he said.
Except one. High-scoring Brownstown runs up a lot of touchdowns and Wolka’s assignment is to dash onto the field, nod his head to the snapper and swing his right foot into the ball when holder Parker Hehman steadies the pigskin.
“I just go through my same routine,” said Wolka, who has missed one kick this season. “I set my tee down on the field and take three steps back and two over (to his left).”
Wolka’s place kicking career is an accidental development. He was recruited out of the weight room by coach Reed May, who knew of his soccer background.
Reed asked if he was interested in kicking for the football team. Wolka was hesitant. He had never had any connection to football, plus there was the heart issue. He has a condition called Long QT Syndrome.
A person with that affliction is subject to what is termed dangerous arrhytmias stemming from exercise or stress. The heart gets thrown out of rhythm.
“I talked to my doctor for an hour,” Wolka said.
And he decided to play. Wolka spent his entire freshman year just practicing kicks.
“I had never kicked a football,” he said.
Wolka only kicks extra points with the team on Tuesdays. He otherwise challenges himself on field-goal attempts from different spots.
“My range, by myself, in practice, I’ve hit 40 multiple times, though in a game it’s a whole different thing,” Wolka said.
May has never called Wolka’s number for a field-goal try, but said he probably should have during a sequence in the closing seconds of the first half in last week’s 14-12 loss to Salem.
There were five seconds left, but the clock ran out before a field goal could have been attempted. It was a very rare loss to Salem and May’s bunch will be hungry against North Harrison.
“I’m surprised we got beat,” May said. “They took some things away from us. They kept us off the field. Like I told them on Saturday, some of our best teams got beat before the sectional. It can help us if we learn from it.”
Wolka’s try would have been about 27 yards against Salem. He can’t fathom how good the pros are with the NFL record at 64 yards and so many other kickers routinely capable of booming 50-yarders.
“Even trying them from 40 yards it’s a poke,” Wolka said.
Like any kicker, Wolka would love to be the guy who pulled off a victory with a key field goal.
“That’s be pretty nice,” he said.