Since he's a former NFL defensive back and kick returner -- and we're not -- we asked The Magazine's Alan Grant to tell us what it feels like to be on the field for a playoff game. Here's his take.

"There are three things you should do each day," said the late Jim Valvano. "First, you should laugh, second, you should spend a part of each day in deep thought, and third, you should allow yourself to be moved to tears." He called it having a "full day." Over the course of the next few weeks, just about every man who participates in an NFL playoff game will learn exactly what Valvano meant.

I know. My own full day was the '93 NFC Championship Game. Of all the football games I played -- from pre-school to the pros -- this is the only game for which every single detail still sticks in my head.

My 49ers team had finished the season 14-2 and we faced Dallas for the chance to play in Super Bowl XXVII. An 8 a.m. wakeup call got me out of bed that morning, but the excitement of playing in the biggest game of my life had kept me up all night. I was 26, but I leapt out of the sack with the legs of a five-year-old on Christmas morning.

Dressed in a double-breasted black suit, yellow tie and matching pocket stuffer, I went to pre-game meal, chapel service, and then got a ride with safety Thane Gash and cornerback Don Griffin to Candlestick. The pre-game activities were conspicuously mundane. The only thing suggesting I was part of a major event was the sight of CBS commentator Lesley Visser and actor Kevin Costner casually chatting at midfield during warmups.

We won the coin toss and, as a kick returner, I had the distinct pleasure of standing on the goal line as the game began. It routinely takes about 30 seconds for the two teams to line up, the referee to blow his whistle and the kicker to approach to the ball. On January 18, 1993, those particular 30 seconds were nothing short of pure bliss. As I stood there, I reflected on all the other times I had been in this position and all the emotions it stirred. I thought about the first game of my senior year in high school, when I returned the opening kickoff for a touchdown. Damn, I was hyped after that one -- not just for taking it to the house, but for having predicted at the dinner table two days earlier that I would do just that. As Dallas kicker Lin Elliott moved toward the ball, I remember saying out loud, "I can't believe this is actually happening."

The ball sailed to the other returner, Marc Logan, and I slammed into Larry Brown, the Cowboys' safety on their kickoff team. Not getting the ball did nothing to diminish my enthusiasm. I knew I'd get my chance on punt return.

The only significant play in that first series of downs was a 70-yard touchdown pass to Jerry Rice that got nullified by a holding penalty. We kicked the ball to the Cowboys, who also failed to move the ball. They had to punt. And that was the moment I had been waiting for -- if not for a lifetime, then at least for my short professional career. I would finally get the chance to make something happen. As I waited for Mike Saxon to kick the ball, I calmly paced a two-yard area and imagined how I would freak the first would-be tackler.

The kick was high and short, and I had to sprint about 15 yards toward the Dallas sideline to get underneath the ball. Once I got there, I had to decide: either signal for a fair catch, or take my chances.

I took my chances.

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Alan Grant, a former NFL defensive back, is a writer/reporter for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at alan.grant@espnmag.com.