What's your name?
Me, I'm the lonesome kicker Extra points, field goals at your service One might think it comes with glory You might think different after you listen to my story
My helmet is equipped with a tiny face mask What it possibly could protect, I do not know The other guys on the team Like to make fun of my little shoulder pads And also like to hide the special shoe I need to kick in the snow
People think it's so easy To kick a field goal from the 30 yard line They forget to add seven yards for the snap And 10 more 'cause the goal posts are pushed way back
In 1974, the uprights were right on the goal line But some of the players were running into them and getting hurt So screw the kicker Who cares about the kicker?
But I kick that ball and I pray it goes straight If it does coach says, "Good job, number 8" He doesn't even know my name is Andre Kristacovitchlalinski, Jr But that's the life I live the lonesome kicker
Kickoffs can be so very scary Especially, if the returner breaks on through And I'm the only guy on the playing field left to tackle him I don't want to get hurt so I pretend to tie my shoe
Once again, I'm ignored by my teammates and all my coaches "Go back where you came from!" scream 70,000 fans Well, I know I could win their love back By catching a winning touch-down But, unfortunately, I was born with these very small hands
And I hope that the cameras don't come in too close 'Cause they might see the tears in my eyes As I sit on this bench made of cold-hearted wood And the splinters go deep in my thighs And the towel boy snickers as he walks by, the lonesome kicker
Another blocked kick And everybody blames me But it was the left guard Who didn't pick up his man Oh, why can't they see
In my home country I could have been a minor league soccer player But I came to America seeking fortune and seeking fame I didn't realize that if I shanked one and blew the point spread Some drunk guys would push me into their hibachi after the game
So I go home at night 'cause I never get invited To go drinking with the other guys And I sit in my chair, and I soak my foot As I eat a plate of cold French fries And my wife's out with her quote-unquote friend And my son can't look me in the eyes But that's the life I live, the lonesome kicker
Kicking for you They took my snow shoe They're going for two
What's your name?