ALLEN PARK -- Long snappers aren't supposed to have statistics. They aren't supposed to be stories. If you're talking to a long snapper, something's probably gone terribly wrong.

Maybe that explains why Don Muhlbach is so damn alarmed to be talking to me.

"What do you want?" the Detroit Lions long snapper says as I approach his locker, voice equal parts suspicious and disarmingly playful. It's clear he's more than happy to oblige a week-old request to talk, yet not totally comfortable doing it either.

Here's the thing: Muhlbach is a 14-year veteran of the game's most forgettable position. He's used to anonymity. He likes anonymity. Where he's from back in Texas, that's the way it's supposed to be for guys like him. He just wants to throw a football between his legs, and do it over and over and over again.

And that's what he's done for 14 years, playing at a remarkable level at the game's most unremarkable position. And nobody's noticed. Because he's a freaking long snapper.

Did you know he botched a snap once when was a rookie? That was 191 games ago. And nobody can remember him doing it since.

Muhlbach's game is so next-level, forget about his speed and accuracy, both of which are the class of the league. He can actually control the rotations on the ball so it arrives laces out nine times out of 10. The holder doesn't have to do anything other than catch the football and set it on its tip.

That's not normal.

"That," special teams coordinator Joe Marciano said, "is amazing."

As it turns out, there isn't a whole lot that is normal about Muhlbach. We just didn't know about it. Because he's a freaking long snapper.

Did you know he cuts a banana into 17 pieces before every game? Did you know he listens to the same 18 songs before every game? And does it in the same order on the same iPod Nano that he bought, well, back when people still bought iPod Nanos? And that he does the same air drum solo to the same song before he runs out of the tunnel?

Did you know he doesn't just throw the football before every game? That he throws it so hard, he's dislocated fingers on the poor staffers who catch for him? (Yes, plural.)

If Matthew Stafford sneezes, we break down why he sneezed and into what direction and whether it would have been more effective out of a no-huddle. But Muhlbach can be maybe the weirdest cat on the team, and nobody knows about it. Because he's a freaking long snapper.

He can play in 199 games, and we barely realize he's there. On Sunday, he'll play in his 200th game for the franchise when Detroit (2-1) travels to Minnesota to face the Vikings (2-1). That will move him into a tie with former linebacker great Wayne Walker for third most in franchise history.

Somehow, Muhlbach is putting up impressive numbers at a position that's not supposed to have numbers at all. He's snapped for 732 made field goals and extra points in his career. He's had a hand in 1,364 points scored. He's snapped the ball 50 times for 50-yard field goals. There's no way to know definitively where that stacks up all time -- long snappers aren't supposed to have stats! -- but just know there are only two players in history who have actually kicked that many 50-yard field goals.

Both went through multiple snappers. And one was Jason Hanson.

"I'll never forget the week we signed him," Hanson says. "This is back when Steve Mariucci was around, and coach was like, 'Hey, here's our new guy.' (Punter/holder Nick Harris) was already looking at me wide-eyed. He thought this guy was shooting the balls out of a shotgun at him. It was as fast as he's ever seen.

"Coach was like, 'Watch how fast this is! How cool this is!' And we were like, 'No, don't encourage him! Slow it down!'"

Benjamin Franklin once said the only certainties in life are death and taxes. But that seems to be only because he never saw Don Muhlbach throw a football between his legs.

*****

Don Muhlbach will play in his 200th game for the Lions on Sunday against Minnesota.

How exactly does one become a long snapper? Kids grow up dreaming of throwing the football, and running it and catching it. Nobody goes in their backyard when they're 7 years old, counts down the final seconds of the Super Bowl and then hikes the ball 8 yards behind them. And neither did Muhlbach.

One of the great careers at the position began out of pure happenstance.

Muhlbach, an August birthday, was always young for his age growing up in Lufkin, Texas. He was still 15 years old when he was heading into the 10th grade, which meant he couldn't drive. The team's quarterback was his ride home.

But the team's quarterback (whom Muhlbach declined to name) was also the team's punter. And because he had to be with the offense throughout practice, his only chance to work on his punting was after practice. Which meant Muhlbach had a lot of time to kill before he could go home.

Instead of just sitting around, Muhlbach figured he'd stay busy by snapping the ball to the quarterback/punter. Day after day, hour after hour, snap after punt after snap after punt. The punter got really good -- so good, matter of fact, college coaches came around to scout him. He'd eventually play for Texas.

But Muhlbach, a creature of repetition, got good too. Really good.

The scouts on hand to see the punter noticed.

Most teams tried to save a roster spot by turning one of their linemen into the long snapper in those days, and Muhlbach didn't get any scholarship offers. He chose to walk on at Texas A&M, which had just won the Big 12. And he was great.

The Aggies put him on scholarship his final year. Then it hit him.

"I remember the last game, being very upset that that was probably the last time I was ever going to play football in my life," Muhlbach said. "I mean, my uncle thinks, like, 'Wait, this is all you do?' He thought it was hilarious I was just a snapper. Guys just didn't do it."

Muhlbach went to pro day anyway in 2004, and didn't draw interest from any of the teams on hand. But he also worked with the video department to make his own highlight tape, which he sent out to teams. Baltimore called.

"I was like, 'Oh my goodness, that's Ray Lewis!'" Muhlbach said. "'Oh my gosh, there's Jonathan Ogden!'"

Things didn't work out with the Ravens, and he was cut before the start of the regular season. Muhlbach went home to Texas and moved in with his parents. He got a job at the local bank. His only football was snapping to his old high school coach a couple times per week, and to his father after church on Sundays. Then he'd punch back in at the bank.

Eight weeks later, he got a call.

The Lions had lost Jody Littleton to a torn hamstring. They needed somebody fast. And their last preseason game that year had happened to be against -- you guessed it! -- Baltimore. Which gave them a long look at some rookie out of Texas A&M with a blazing fastball.

"I just remember when Don first came in," Hanson said. "Don could always snap the ball hard - I mean, just a massive velocity. It was scary. I didn't have to deal with it, but our punter at the time was just, like, 'What in the world?'"

Lions middle linebacker Jarrad Davis turned 9 years old that week. And now they share a locker room.

Death. Taxes. Don Muhlbach.

*****

Lions coach Jim Caldwell, left, says Don Muhlbach is so successful because of "productive paranoia."

Muhlbach wound up playing eight games in 2004, and was so good he Wally Pipp'd Littleton. He was brought back for the 2005 season, and has missed just four games since.

In the last 12 years, he's missed only one game.

It seems everyone has a story. Don Carey, one of Detroit's top gunners, tells a good one. He and safety Glover Quin were throwing the ball around after practice one day, trying to hit the goal posts and throw it into trash bins and stuff like that.

Then Muhlbach walks in. He grabs a football, squats over the 30-yard line and hikes the ball right into the goal post.

Then he walks off, without saying a word.

"He snaps backwards with more accuracy than most guys throw," Carey says. "That's not a knock on cats throwing. That's just true."

Here's another one. When punter Kasey Redfern hurt his knee in the opener against Arizona, a team staffer volunteered to help warm up Muhlbach on the sideline. But the staffer hadn't caught for him before, and wasn't quite prepared for the velocity. The first snap drilled him right in the face.

It's not uncommon for the organization to warn opposing teams about Muhlbach's warmups because he's almost hit several cheerleaders.

"Nobody snaps it harder, that's for sure," kicker Matt Prater said. "He's just the best."

For an organization that has turned over everything from the owner to the locker room carpets the last few years, Muhlbach's consistency stands out. But you don't know the half of it. Ask around about what could make someone so good at something so weird, for so long, and a picture begins to emerge.

"Anal," coach Jim Caldwell says. "OCD," kicker Matt Prater says. "A freak," quarterback Matthew Stafford says, "and he needs to be medicated, to be honest."

"Probably," Muhlbach sighs a couple lockers away.

Former quarterback Dan Orlovsky used to live down the street from Muhlbach, and was staying with him once when family was in town. He looked out the window to see Muhlbach drive down the driveway, then back up the driveway to check the garage door, then back down again.

This was not a one-time thing.

"He's that guy who locks his car about 15 times on his way into the building," Stafford said. "Every. Single. Time."

Muhlbach is the only teammate Stafford has left from when he was drafted first overall in 2009, and the QB obviously gets a kick out of the -- what's the word? Neuroticisms? Idiosyncrasies? He'll move coins that Muhlbach has in his locker, which of course is the first thing Muhlbach notices when he returns. Stafford likes to doodle in the ledger Muhlbach uses to keep track of the winners and losers at the locker room card games -- because of course Muhlbach is the banker -- then snickers in the corner when Muhlbach cracks the books.

"Just to see him get upset," Stafford says with a you-know-what eating grin. "Anything we can to make his life a little more difficult."

Muhlbach's -- what is that word? Peculiarities? Eccentricities? Affectations? -- bleed into football. There's nowhere to start but the banana, which he cuts into 17 pieces before every game. And then there's the music. He listens to the same 18-song playlist on the same iPod Nano he bought more than a decade ago. The mix features a lot of Metallica, which he's listened to before every game since he was bumping Walkmans back in junior high. Because of course he has.

There's a grab bag of artists like POD and Shinedown also in the mix, which builds to a remix of Phil Collins' "In The Air Tonight." And, yes, he does the drum solo. It's the last thing he does before taking the field every Sunday. And he takes it very seriously.

"It's an incredible playlist, let's be honest," Stafford needles.

On the field, Muhlbach always begins his warm up by throwing. And make no mistake, he might be a long snapper, but the man can whistle a football. He's legendary for dislocating the finger of staffers who catch for him.

"The guy (who catches for Muhlbach) started wearing gloves. That still hurt his hands, so he wore double gloves," Marciano said. "That ball is coming in like a Nolan Ryan fastball. I'm like, 'What are you doing man?'

"He's just like, 'I'm warming up. All right?'"

It's obvious that Muhlbach is a different cat. Caldwell calls it -- that's the word! -- "productive paranoia." And, yes, the productive paranoia probably helps Muhlbach with something as routine and rhythmic as long snapping a piece of pigskin.

Caldwell explains by quoting "Great By Choice," a book by Jim Collins.

"He says greatness is not a matter of circumstance. It's that, in fact, greatness is a matter of choice and discipline," Caldwell said. "(Muhlbach) is the exact example of that, you know? He's one of these guys so consumed with doing the little things right, that they live in fear of not doing them correctly.

"That is the perfect picture of Don Muhlbach -- productive paranoia."

Don?

"That works, I guess," Muhlbach said. "Better than neurotic. I mean there's probably some mild OCD somewhere. I don't really know. It's about routine, really. I just love change so much, and if there's a way to imply sarcasm in print, I want you to do that."

Muhlbach has seen plenty of change over the years. He's the last holdover from a different time, when Matt Millen was still running the show and Bob Quinn was a first-year regional scout for the New England Patriots. Matthew Stafford was still a high school junior.

He's snapped for everyone from Jason Hanson to Ndamukong Suh. He's seen more than 1,000 teammates come and go since he signed that first contract on Nov. 10, 2004.

Not bad for a guy who just wanted a ride home from school.

"He just continues to get better and better," Stafford said. "That's just kind of in his nature as a human being. That, and banking."

Death. Taxes. Don Freaking Muhlbach.