Long Snapper John Ferlmann (43) snaps the ball back to Punter/Holder Joe McGuire (42) in the Buckeyes’ road win against the unranked Washington Huskies. Credit: Liam Ahern | Sports Photo Editor
The punt team breaks from the sideline, and the stadium noise changes. It gets sharper, like the crowd can sense the drive ended in the one way Ohio State fans hate most–without a score.
Ohio State long snapper John Ferlmann jogs onto the field.
The defense lines up, hands flashing and bodies leaning forward, testing the timing and trying to draw a false start. Ferlmann glances up just long enough to find his blocking assignment, then drops his eyes back down.
Fingers on leather.
Laces.
A quick roll.
“厂贰罢.”
The ball is already gone, fired backward between his legs in a tight spiral.
Most football fans see this play as a punt, the kicking of a ball downfield to signal a change in possession. Ferlmann thinks only about the snap, the one movement nobody rewinds unless it goes wrong.
College football teams carry multiple long snappers despite limited opportunities, relying on them for precision in moments with zero margin for error. At Ohio State, where offensive firepower often limits the need to punt, long snappers like John Ferlmann and Collin Johnson occupy one of the most specialized roles on the roster.
Ferlmann sees the role through the lens of a principle Ohio State applies to every position: depth matters.
“The importance of depth at every position is paramount,” he said.?
Long snapping only looks simple because it’s supposed to. The ball travels about 14 yards and must arrive with the right speed and placement so the punter can keep his rhythm. After releasing the snap, the long snapper immediately becomes part of the protection unit.
Nick McLarty, former Ohio State punter, describes the role simply: “The long snapper is the engine of the machine.”
For McLarty, that responsibility becomes clear the moment the punt team takes the field.
“The idea of going out to punt was like, ah…,” he says. “Like, we’ve already messed up.”
In those moments, the operation depends on the snap.
“The good’s never good enough to change a game,” McLarty says. “But the bad is bad enough to change a game.”
That margin is why Ohio State keeps multiple long snappers ready. When the punt team runs onto the field, there is little room for error.
Long snapper Collin Johnson said development and competition are part of the job.
“Iron sharpens iron,” he said. “The starter helps the backup, the backup helps the starter.”
Much of the work happens long before Saturdays. Johnson described Tuesday punt periods in practice as “absolute war,” where specialists simulate the pressure of game situations even when punts might be rare.
“There’s no second play on this,” he said. “One shot, one kill.”
The preparation often outweighs the game action. Johnson estimates long snappers take around 15 to 20 live snaps during special teams periods in practice each week, compared to far fewer opportunities in games–especially for a team like Ohio State that punted just 30 times in 2025.
Ferlmann described the specialists’ approach as a “professional player model,” where preparation and discipline are largely self-managed.
“It’s very self-driven,” he said. “It’s discipline at the end of the day.”
The job also carries its share of pressure. Ferlmann remembered a moment against Maryland in 2023 when he nicked the ball on the turf during a punt, turning a routine play into chaos.?
“It was a big mess up,” he said.?
Ferlmann often talks about the technical side of the position–snap speed, placement and spiral all affect the punter’s rhythm. The goal is to snap the ball within .68 seconds.
“That’s elite,” he said.
Those fractions matter because the entire punt operation is built on timing. McLarty says Ohio State aims for less than two seconds from snap to kick.
“Adding .1 seconds can be the difference between getting blocked and not getting blocked,” he says.
That timing depends on the trust between the snapper and the punter. McLarty compares it to a quarterback and a wide receiver; the punter needs to know exactly where the ball will arrive.
Sometimes the partnership gets tested. McLarty recalled a game when Ferlmann launched a snap so high that the 6-foot-7 punter had to jump to catch it. They later laughed about it.
“You never want one person to fail because of the other,” McLarty said. “You only want to make each other look good.”
For Johnson, the position comes with a simple understanding.
“When you hear your name being called,” he said, “that’s a bad thing.”
A long snapper’s best work usually goes unnoticed. A clean spiral, a fast snap, a smooth operation, details that rarely appear in a box score.
That’s exactly how it’s supposed to be.
