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The Spokesman-Review Newspaper
Spokane, Washington  Est. May 19, 1883

Finding Perfection’s No Snap Renaissance Man Of The Seahawks Tries To Achieve High Standards Both On And Off The Practice Field

Trey Junkin before Seattle Seahawks practices: The first man on the field, working on long snaps.

Trey Junkin after practices: Last man on the field, getting in some extra running and drilling himself on receiving skills he’ll rarely use.

Trey Junkin during practice: Honing conditioning by occasionally breaking into impromptu sprints when he’s not specifically involved in a team drill.

Clearly, the regular practices cannot contain Junkin, there’s not enough work to suit him.

Likewise, a few hastily attached labels fail to circumscribe Junkin.

Yes, he’s a curious mix of long-snapper, tight end, poet, philosopher and martial artist - an abundantly tattooed man who lives by his brawn, but who also occasionally conducts area philharmonic orchestras.

See the problem here? Junkin defies logical definition, except to suggest that, more than anything else, he is a man engaged in a quest for something he knows he’ll never attain - perfection.

“I know that the last man who was perfect walked on water and is sitting up there looking down on us,” Junkin said after a recent Seahawks practice. “So, I know I’m never going to be perfect, but I’m going to absolutely bust my butt trying to be.

“I get mad and throw a fit when a (punt) snap is six inches off where I want it, because I know I can do better.”

It’s unlikely that anyone has done it better for longer.

At some point near the middle of the season, the 13-year NFL veteran will make his 1,000th near-perfect punt snap (he has 940 now). Nobody will stop the game to celebrate the moment, but it will go in Junkin’s mental scrapbook nonetheless.

“I’ve never had one hit the ground, never had one go over anybody’s head and never had anybody have to take more than half a step right or left to get it,” he said.

To Junkin, snapping 15 yards to the punter resembles an exercise in Zen archery. He aims by not aiming. He empties his mind and lets the body do as it knows how.

Lurking inches from his face, defenders attempt to rattle the snapper. They have spit on the ball, they have kicked grass onto it and they have threatened to take out Junkin’s knees the moment he snaps. But for 940 times, nothing has broken Junkin’s concentration.

“I figure you’re going to get hit no matter what, so you might was well do your job,” he said.

The value of this arcane skill is understood by his teammates, who have voted him special teams captain the last two years.

“I do put in extra work on the field and in the weight room to try to make myself better,” the 34-year-old Junkin said. “They bring in guys every year (to challenge for his job) since the beginning of time, and they will continue to do that, but I truly think my competition is with me. I’m reasonably priced, and they know exactly what they’re going to get when I’m on the field.”

As a backup tight end, the 6-foot-2, 241-pound Junkin has proven to be a reliable blocker, although not much of a receiving threat. He has caught a total of four passes in five seasons with the Seahawks, a team he joined after stays with Buffalo, Washington and the Raiders.

Still, he spends considerable time working on his blocking and receiving skills. It’s the Junkin way.

This thirst for perfection was a genetic gift from his father, Abner Kirk Junkin II, a Navy pilot. That perfectionist also gave his son his name, making him Abner Kirk Junkin III. Ah, The Third, hence the nickname “Trey.”

Junkin’s younger brother Mike was the fifth player taken in the 1987 draft, but played only two years in Cleveland and one in Kansas City.

Aside from athleticism, that family DNA most have contained coding for non-conformity.

“I like being an individual,” he said in another contradiction from a person so doggedly team-oriented. “Maybe it’s the poet in me, but I enjoy seeing the differences in people. You don’t want to be anybody but yourself and if you try being anything but yourself, you end up losing part of yourself.”

Junkin’s poems reflect the man, and he has 200 or so that he plans to self-publish soon. He’ll self-publish them, he said, to be certain they are done correctly. (The perfectionist arising again.)

“Poetry is all feeling, it’s what comes from inside you,” he said. “And that can’t be edited.”

Neither can his views on life in the NFL.

“There is one absolute in this game - that there are no absolutes,” he said. “It has changed so much since I started in 1983 that the only things that are the same is that there are 11 guys on each side and the ball is still brown.”

Junkin sheds the poetic in favor of tough prose when he discusses another sore subject - the status of NFL’s collective bargaining agreement.

“We had a union that didn’t work for the players during a strike and we now have a salary cap that I truly believe neither side saw the ramifications of,” Junkin said. “Nobody realized the effect of people being on injured reserve and counting against the salary cap.

“A lot of guys thought, ‘oh, how great it is, free agency, we can get whatever we want,’ but they didn’t see that the salary cap kills free agency because now they’re cutting you because of your salary. It’s not just going out and playing football anymore.”

Surprisingly, though, amid such dramatic changes in 13 seasons, Junkin has been able to maintain at least three constants.

His quirky personal style - perhaps understandable for someone who spends so much of his time viewing the world upside-down and between his legs.

His style of play - he has photos from two distinct periods of his career that show his snapping form to be entirely unchanged.

And finally, his willingness to work on his craft.

“I may not be young anymore, but I can be stronger and I can be in better condition and I can be more mentally prepared and I can do more work than anybody.”

Why?

“Because that’s the way I am.”

, DataTimes ILLUSTRATION: 2 Photos (1 Color)

MEMO: This sidebar appeared with the story: PLAYING THE GAME a Trey Junkin poem The years I’ve spent … lurking in shadows Stalking the side … lines Dirty jobs They’re all I have. This game Children playing Men working What’s the difference? Wondering what was Lost? … Playing the game.

This sidebar appeared with the story: PLAYING THE GAME a Trey Junkin poem The years I’ve spent … lurking in shadows Stalking the side … lines Dirty jobs They’re all I have. This game Children playing Men working What’s the difference? Wondering what was Lost? … Playing the game.