Putting Their Best Foot Forward

On second thought, this will not be a toe-tagged Super Bowl.

This will be a record-setting Super Bowl.

The MVP will be a punter.

“Yeah, right,” said Brad Maynard of the New York Giants.

“I’m laughing,” said Kyle Richardson of the Baltimore Ravens.

I’m not.

The Giants won’t be allowed to move the ball, so Maynard will be kicking through his tube socks.

The Ravens are physically incapable of moving the ball, so Richardson will be busier than his teammates’ mouths.

Late in the game, one of the punters will pin the other team inside the five-yard line for the fifth time. One of their teammates will make a tackle for a safety. The final score will be 2-0.

For the first time in the 35-year history of the game, a punter will walk away with the Pete Rozelle Trophy, directly to the sideline, where he will kick it into a net.

“I’m still laughing,” Richardson said. “I’m mean, somebody will score, and they will be the MVP.”

Somebody will score?

“Well, at least a field goal,” he said. “I think.”

I think not.

An award that has been given to the likes of Bart Starr and Joe Namath and Joe Montanawill soon be in the possession of a guy who honed his craft on a small-town Indiana oak tree.

“It was in my backyard, it was 50-60 feet high, and I would kick over it every day for practice,” Maynard said.

Or, it will be in the possession of a guy who honed his craft on a small-town Missouri field filled with joggers and dog walkers.

“I would go out at night and punt in the middle of all these dogs and people,” Richardson said. “I would occasionally hit a dog, but I missed all the people.”

No dogs were injured.

Richardson wants everybody to realize he is a nice guy.

If only they would first realize that he is Kyle Richardson.

“I get recognized a lot in Baltimore,” he said. “People come up to me and say, ‘Hey, Matt Stover, Matt Stover.’ ”

I interviewed Richardson, one on one, for the entire 45 minutes of the Ravens’ press session Wednesday.

Despite the presence of nearly 3,000 accredited media here, we were interrupted only three times.

Once was by a European journalist who wanted him to pose for a photo in his former uniform, that of the Rhein Fire of NFL Europe.

“They loved me in Europe,” he said. “They don’t understand much about anything else, but they love the kickers.”

I also interviewed Maynard for the entire Giant press session.

We were interrupted only four times.

“I do get slapped on the butt by my teammates occasionally,” he said. “Sometimes, guys say, ‘We need you today.’ ”

Occasionally. Sometimes.

It’s not that nobody likes the punter.

It’s that nobody knows the punter.

There are 204 members in the Pro Football Hall of Fame. None was strictly a punter. This is not a coincidence.

Kickers can win or lose games. Punters only painfully extend them.

Virtually every other anonymous position, from those tackling the kick returner to those blocking for him, can become a symbol for a team’s success.

Only the punter is a constant symbol for its failure.

Truth be told, no team even wants a punter.

Maynard was a walk-on at Ball State. Richardson was a walk-on at Arkansas State.

“It’s not that we can’t do anything,” Richardson said. “A lot of punters are, you know, ex-athletes.”

Nobody remembers a punter for anything that doesn’t involve the word “shank.”

One of Maynard’s most memorable moments was a high school shank that bounced 15 yards backward and landed nearly at his feet.

“A one-yard punt,” he said.

Richardson, who accumulated the most punts in Arkansas State history, will never forget how his 274th and final one was a 20-yard shank.

“What a way to go out,” he said.

At least he didn’t hurt anybody, which is what happened the time he shanked a practice punt off the top bar of the sideline net, knocking the net into a photographer.

And at least he didn’t get hurt. More than anybody, perhaps, punters think about getting hurt.

Nobody is asked to tackle as much as a punter. Nobody is more frightened by the prospects.

“We’re definitely afraid,” Maynard said. “When you have had no real contact since high school, then somebody is coming at you . . . “

Richardson actually did make a good tackle once during his two-week punting stretch for the Seattle Seahawks.

“The problem was, the guy was coming so hard, he knocked me out,” he said. “Then a couple of plays later, I had to come in a punt again. I hit a 70-yarder and don’t remember a thing.”

All this, and the punters are the only players in the league who cannot warm up with the only equipment that affects them.

Quarterbacks can test their radio helmets, running backs can test their shoes, linebackers can adjust their forearm pads.

But a punter cannot touch a game ball until he is actually punting one.

This is because, several years ago, punters were discovered sticking game balls in dryers to make them softer and more pliable.

“Or, I remember putting a 45-pound weight on a ball and standing on the weight until the ball was like a pumpkin,” Richardson said. “But not any more.”

These Super Bowl balls will be tougher than usual.

‘With those emblems on them, we don’t quite know what to expect,” Richardson said.

Expect history.

Richardson set an NFL record with 39 punts inside the 20-yard line. He put four inside the 20 against the Oakland Raiders two weeks ago.

If he kicks that well again Sunday, he will be the MVP.

Maynard, on the other foot, has a career average of 42 yards a punt, with only two blocked in four years.

If he kicks a dozen balls over the old oak tree Sunday, he will be the MVP.

The most important football game of the year will not be about touchdowns, but fourth downs.

The two most important players are ready.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Brad Maynard said.

“I’ll just keep laughing,” Kyle Richardson said.

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Bill Plaschke can be reached at his e-mail address: bill.plaschke@latimes.com.