AMERICA AT LARGE/ American Football: In his playing days Mark Schlereth was affectionately known as "Stinky", sometimes shortened to "Stink".

The sobriquet ostensibly had its origins when, in his rookie season with the Washington Redskins, the native-born Alaskan described to his team-mates an Eskimo delicacy called "stinkheads", the main ingredient of which consists of decomposing fish-heads, but as his legend grew over the years it came to encompass his sometimes-unsanitary work habits as well.

In the run-up to Super Bowl XXXII half a dozen years ago, the Denver Broncos' offensive linemen, under threat of fines from the publicity-conscious NFL, were forced to break a season-long collective silence and speak to the media, and it was Schlereth's team-mate centre Tom Nalen who let the cat out of the bag.

"Stinky throws up on the field during games," revealed Nalen. "He also pees in his pants. He used to get away with it when he played for the Redskins because they wore those dark red pants, but trust me, sometime during Super Bowl XXXII, Mark Schlereth will piss in his pants."

Confronted with the accusation that day, Schlereth pleaded guilty.

"Absolutely true," he admitted. "I figure it's not much different than sweating."

Schlereth won three Super Bowl rings in his 13-year career, one with the Redskins and two with the Broncos, making him one of just 15 players in history to have played on World Championship teams representing both AFC and NFC teams. He played in two Pro Bowls, and also set an unenviable record with 29 recorded surgeries - over half of them for knee injuries.

He was the first, and so far only, Alaskan to play in the NFL, but when Sports Illustrated, in the latest instalment of a 50-part series recording the athletic accomplishments of each state in the union, reached Alaska, Schlereth missed the cut.

The magazine profiled what it described as the half-dozen "all-time best" Alaskan sports figures, and Schlereth wasn't one of them. The roster of those honoured included two Olympic skiers, two basketball players, an ice hockey player, and Susan Butcher, the woman who for three straight years in the late 1980s won the gruelling Iditarod dog-sled race.

"Does this Stink, or what?" demanded Denver Post columnist Jim Armstrong upon learning of Schlereth's omission.

Schlereth said he was "disappointed, but I'm not going to lose any sleep over it" when we spoke to him the other night.

"(Downhill skier) Tommy Moe is an Olympic gold medallist, and that's as good as it gets," said Schlereth. "I've certainly got no issues there. But is Trajon Langdon still playing?"

Informed that the Anchorage-born basketballer who topped the Sports Illustrated list was now playing professionally in Turkey, Schlereth grunted as if to say "see?"

"But a sled-dog musher?" scoffed Stinky. "Look, I'll readily concede that the lead dog is a better athlete than me, but a musher? I don't think standing back there and saying 'Mush, you huskies!' requires a great deal of athleticism.

"It's sort of like being a NASCAR driver," said Schlereth. "I'll grant you there's pressure involved, but how much athletic skill does it really take to mash down the pedal and turn the wheel to the left?"

In Schlereth's view, he was probably penalised for having played such a low-profile position.

"It became apparent by the time I was about 10 years old that I was going to spend most of my life in a three-point stance," he said. "The average Joe tends to look at offensive linemen as if they're just grunt labourers, not 'athletes', and for the most part the media tends to reflect that view.

"I can say that, now that I am one," chuckled Stink, who since his retirement has worked as a broadcaster for ESPN.

"I don't think most football fans even understand the value of a good offensive lineman, but teams obviously do," he said. "That's why you see so few of the best ones on the free-agent market. Their teams are careful to lock them up because they don't want to let them get away.

"I had a pretty good career," said Schlereth. "I played on three championship teams, and if it hadn't been for the injuries I'd have played even longer. My last few years I used to joke that I was a 'professional re-habber' who just played football on the side, but in a way it was true. And in my last season every day was a struggle: there was no cartilage left in my knees, just bone-on-bone, and every once in a while I'd be right in front of the guy I was blocking and you could just see my legs give out and buckle. When you've got a 300-pound guy pushing against you, that's not a good time for that to happen."

As we spoke two nights ago, Schlereth held the telephone in one hand while he worked out on a treadmill in his Colorado home. He had just returned from the golf course, where he spends most of his days when he's not flying between Denver and ESPN's studios in Connecticut.

Not a bad life, we told him.

"Yeah, but as much fun as it is, I'd rather be playing football," he said. "Especially with the signing bonuses I see being tossed around these days."

As we spoke, the 2004 edition of the 1,050-mile Iditarod was in progress, and it occurred to us that the dog-sled mushers had at least one thing in common with Mark Schlereth.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Bodily functions," we told him. "Think about it. They're mushing from dawn till dusk. A guy doesn't want to pull off the trail to heed the call of nature, so he probably handles it the same way you did in football games."

"Yeah," Stink chuckled in new-found appreciation. "I guess he'd have to, wouldn't he?"

Or she.