HH. Only four kickers in NFL history have made more than three kicks of 59 yards or longer in their CAREER. Will Reichard has made three THIS YEAR from that distance. The Thrill has made 13/14 FGs (only miss hitting a wire) and 12/12 extra points. He is the BEST KICKER in the game!!! Skol!!!!!!
The Calm Within Chaos
It’s a strange thing — to be the calmest man in a stadium filled with 80,000 roaring fans. To stand alone, 50 yards away from destiny, while the clock ticks down and the air turns electric. Most players crave the chaos. But Will Reichard? He conquers it.
This season, the rookie kicker for the Minnesota Vikings has done something almost unthinkable: three field goals from 59 yards or longer, all in the same year — something that only four kickers in NFL history have ever done across their entire careers. And Reichard isn’t even halfway through his rookie campaign.
The stat line itself is absurd: 13-for-14 on field goals, 12-for-12 on extra points, and that lone “miss” came not from human error but from bad luck — a ball that struck a hanging camera wire mid-flight, a freak occurrence that left even the referees shaking their heads.
In a league obsessed with quarterbacks, Will Reichard is quietly becoming the Vikings’ most consistent weapon — and perhaps, the best kicker in football.
From Alabama Precision to NFL Pressure
Reichard’s journey to this moment isn’t just about talent. It’s about patience, obsession, and precision forged in the crucible of Nick Saban’s Alabama dynasty. In college, Reichard was known not just for accuracy but for something rarer: composure. He ended his senior season as the all-time leading scorer in NCAA history — 539 points — a record that may stand for decades.
Teammates from those Crimson Tide years often tell the same story: Reichard was a perfectionist. He’d practice under artificial crowd noise, blaring stadium horns, even trash talk recordings just to simulate chaos. He called it “building peace in pressure.” That mindset has carried seamlessly into the NFL.
“Pressure doesn’t exist if you expect it,” Reichard once said in a preseason interview. That simple sentence feels almost prophetic now. Because if pressure were real, nobody would be doing what Will Reichard is doing in Minnesota.
The Rookie Who Kicks Like a Veteran
There’s something eerie about watching Reichard’s pre-kick routine. The measured steps back. The slight exhale. The way he looks down at the ball, not up at the uprights. For most rookies, every attempt feels like survival. For Reichard, it looks like meditation.
Even the team’s veterans have noticed. “You can tell he’s different,” said one lineman after Reichard’s 61-yard bomb against Green Bay. “He doesn’t get rattled. Doesn’t talk trash. Just… does the job.”
And the numbers back it up. Through the first half of the season, Reichard’s conversion rate from 50+ yards sits at an elite 90%, higher than legends like Justin Tucker and Harrison Butker at the same point in their careers.
But it’s not just the distance — it’s the consistency. Every kick has the same trajectory: clean, tight, elegant. Like a physics experiment that never fails.
The Science of “The Thrill”
They call him “The Thrill.” The nickname started as a joke — a play on his calm demeanor. “He’s so chill it’s almost thrilling,” a teammate laughed during a training camp mic’d-up segment. The name stuck. But ironically, “The Thrill” describes his kicks better than his personality.
Reichard doesn’t have the booming, chaotic style of some NFL legs. His power is quiet. Controlled. Watch the slow-motion replay, and you’ll notice something subtle — his plant foot lands perfectly parallel every time, his shoulders never over-rotate, and his follow-through finishes like a golfer’s swing. It’s poetry in biomechanics.
Special teams coordinator Matt Daniels calls it “mechanical grace.” “He’s like a machine,” Daniels said. “But with a soul. You can feel the intention behind every kick.”
That combination — cold precision and warm purpose — is what separates great kickers from transcendent ones.
Vikings Fans Have Seen Enough to Believe
For a franchise haunted by heartbreak — from Gary Anderson’s miss in the 1998 NFC Championship to Blair Walsh’s nightmare in the 2016 playoffs — watching Reichard feels like emotional therapy. Every clean strike feels like redemption.
“Do you understand what it means to us to trust a kicker again?” one longtime fan posted after Reichard drilled a 58-yarder in swirling wind at Soldier Field. “It’s not just points. It’s peace.”
Minnesota’s fanbase, famously loyal and long-suffering, has adopted Reichard as more than a player. He’s become a symbol — of reliability, of calm amid chaos, of faith restored.
The Team Around Him Feels It Too
Quarterback Kirk Cousins — before his season-ending injury — joked that Reichard was “the only guy on this team with a 100% trust rating.” But behind the humor lies truth. Coaches trust him to deliver in any condition. Teammates know they can count on him when drives stall.
Even the defense feeds off his composure. “When you’ve got a guy who just quietly wins points for you every week,” said safety Harrison Smith, “you play a little looser. You play knowing the margin isn’t razor-thin anymore.”
And that’s the ripple effect of a great kicker: he changes the psychology of a team. Reichard isn’t just converting field goals — he’s converting belief.
Beyond Stats: The Mental Fortress
Kicking in the NFL isn’t about muscle. It’s about mindset. Every attempt is a battle between muscle memory and mental noise. Miss one, and the crowd remembers. Miss two, and your career is in jeopardy.
Reichard’s greatest weapon isn’t his leg — it’s his brain. He treats every kick as a repeatable system. “If I do the same thing the same way, the result doesn’t surprise me,” he once said. It sounds simple, but in a sport defined by chaos, simplicity is revolutionary.
His pregame ritual includes visualization sessions, breathwork, and even journaling — notes about wind, pressure angles, and self-talk phrases to keep his focus unshakable. “Confidence isn’t magic,” he told a reporter. “It’s preparation remembering itself.”
The League Takes Notice
Around the NFL, special teams coordinators are quietly raving about Reichard. “That kid’s a problem,” said one AFC assistant. “He’s got Tucker’s consistency with Vinatieri’s confidence. That’s scary.”
Even legends are noticing. Former Colts kicker Adam Vinatieri praised him on air: “You can tell he’s built for big moments. The kid’s got ice in his veins.”
And the numbers aren’t slowing down. After his latest 60-yard conversion against Detroit, Reichard’s name entered early Rookie of the Year conversations — a rarity for a kicker. But more importantly, his peers now view him as a benchmark.
The Beauty of Stillness
What makes Reichard’s rise so magnetic isn’t just the results. It’s the serenity behind them. In a league that thrives on chaos — sideline tantrums, viral soundbites, ego battles — he’s an antidote. He doesn’t yell. He doesn’t flex. He just breathes, steps, and executes.
There’s beauty in that stillness — in the idea that greatness doesn’t always need to shout. Sometimes it just needs to connect.
The Future of the Position
It’s too early to call Reichard a legend, but it’s not too early to recognize the pattern. His blend of athletic control, mental fortitude, and humility represents the evolution of NFL kicking. He’s redefining what consistency looks like in an era of unpredictability.
Fans will talk about Mahomes, Allen, and Jefferson — the supernovas of offense — but someday, they might also talk about the quiet revolution happening in the Vikings’ kicking game. Because if Reichard continues on this trajectory, he won’t just be the best rookie kicker in the league — he might be the standard by which all future kickers are judged.
A Thrill to Remember
As the season marches forward and the Vikings fight for a playoff berth, Reichard’s role will only grow. Every field goal will feel like a referendum on the past heartbreaks — every swing, a restoration of faith.
And when the pressure mounts, as it always does in Minnesota winters, there will be one man standing still amid the storm — heartbeat steady, gaze fixed, posture perfect.
Because for Will Reichard, pressure isn’t something to fear. It’s something to focus through.
And that, perhaps, is the most thrilling part of all.
