Sept. 6, 2005

Such is life in the middle of the line.

You preside over the ball, protruding into the so-called neutral zone, literally sticking your nose where no else is allowed.

Not your buddies to the right or left, nor the behemoths across the way, awaiting the slightest twitch of your hand as their cue to try to knock you into next week.

You stand among the biggest and strongest of blue shirts, often bearing the stains and scars of Saturdays like this, squaring off with defenders so that someone else can step into the spotlight.

But for most of us - trained only to follow those carrying the ball - you might as well be invisible.

And but for the 'fortunate' few who've worn such flattering nicknames like 'The Hogs' or 'Big Uglies', you may very well remain anonymous.

Until something goes wrong. Like a missed block, a fumbled snap, a false start.

"With the center, when he's doing what he's supposed to do, you don't notice him," says Navy's assistant head coach Ken Niumatalolo, who directs the offensive line. "He only gets noticed if he doesn't do his job."

Of course, Niumatalolo isn't speaking of those who know better - be they coaches, teammates or the fans who simply 'get it'.

They fully realize that the front and its center are exactly that - front and center in the success of any offense. Especially one so reliant on precision as the option attack.

Which is why tonight we should all take a closer look at those five Mids settled into their three-point stances. Beginning with the man in the middle, James Rossi.

As a starter during the second half of 2004, he anchored a unit that paved the way to the nation's third-highest rushing average of 289.5 yards per game. That was as a sophomore surrounded by seniors.

Now he is easily the most experienced of the group. Even if only a junior making just his eighth start.

No longer the newcomer being nurtured by the seniors surrounding him, Rossi has become the veteran who must assist the others settled by his side.

"It helped him to play last season next to two veteran guards like August Roitsch and Dennis Ray Phillips," says Niumatalolo. "That made the transition easier for James."

"This year we know we're an inexperienced squad," Rossi says of the Mids overall. "A lot of young guys are looking up to (our veterans) for leadership. It's all of us who must lead."

Mainly, by example. And occasionally, with the right words at the right moments.

As early as the first days of August practices, Niumatalolo noticed a difference in how the usually reticent Rossi began to assert himself.

"James is not a vocal person," Niumatalolo says. "But he's kind of broken out of his shell. He was somewhat timid at times before."

Not that Niumatalolo expects Rossi to prance around the practice field toting pom-poms and quoting Lombardi at every turn. Mainly, the coach wants his center to infuse energy into others.

"You can't have 11 cheerleaders out there," he says. "I think James leads by example. He hasn't changed who he is as a person. He's just playing with a lot more confidence.

"The center sets the tempo of what we do. If he looks tired and sluggish, that permeates to the rest of the line. If there's an energy when he makes the call in the huddle, that sets the tempo when we break the huddle."

Niumatalolo believes the sound of the voice, the language of the body should reflect a "sense of urgency" - a phrase that seems to describe how Rossi et al approached last offseason.

Training together throughout the spring and summer, guards, tackles and centers stretched, ran and lifted weights with a passion rooted deeply in a common desire - to ensure the Mids remain prolific.

On offense, and in the win column.

"We all worked as a group and conditioned as a group," Rossi said. "You could tell there was a lot more excitement at the workouts. We were eager to get after it. We pumped each other up."

The effort they invested from April through August was put to test a week ago against a Maryland defense which - like most the Mids confront - was certainly bigger and supposedly more athletic.

With nary a senior, Rossi and company opened the holes and bought enough time to total more than 340 yards, twice helping Navy march 80 yards en route to touchdowns opposite the Terrapins and their highly regarded linebackers.

This evening, they'll look to be even better facing defenders recruited to Stanford for the purpose of stopping the likes of USC and Cal. In other words, Rossi and his fellow linemen will try to foil and frustrate opponents thought to be from a different league by those on the recruiting trail.

"I think our kids understand who we are (as a team)," says Niumatalolo. "They want to show they can play. The more I'm here the more I realize how hard it is to measure someone's heart."

That's because he's repeatedly seen the so-called undersized pull, scrape and cut block Navy's way into the national rankings.

In the last three seasons since Niumatalolo returned to Annapolis with head coach Paul Johnson, the Mids have averaged nearly 295 yards rushing -twice finishing third, sandwiched around 2003, when they led the nation.

And whether as an assistant in the mid-nineties or during his current tenure, Niumatalolo has watched a legacy develop at one position in particular.

From Brian Dreschler, who triggered the offense of the 1996 Aloha Bowl champs before distinguishing himself in service to the nation, to Terrence Anderson, the Academic All-American who toured the all-star circuit before heading off to medical school.

Great players, better leaders each.

"I'd put August Roitsch right in that category with 'Beef' (Dreschler) and Terrence," said Niumatalolo, noting that Rossi's opportunity arose last year after Roitsch relocated to guard. "I'm not saying he's there yet, but Rossi has a chance when it's all said and done to be right up there."

For his part, Rossi seems ready to rise to the standards of centers past. He's met Anderson and is aware of the lineage of the position he occupies in Navy's offense.

"The guys here before me are all really good guys," says Rossi, who's also watched films of the same offense being run by the Hawaii teams Niumatalolo once quarterbacked and coached under Johnson. "It just showed me what's expected out of me and how good people can be at (my) position."

In a self-assessment to date, Rossi simply says, "I'm not as consistent as I'd like to be."

Though Niumatalolo believes Rossi is closing in on the consistency he seeks.

"In our meetings he has a better grasp of his assignments," Niumatalolo says. "I can see him playing faster and lower."

There's another Niumatalolo observation, one made during the summer. And one that cuts to the core of the Navy center - the person, more than the player.

"We have a barbecue once a year," he recalled. "I enjoy sitting down and talking to the kids. Talking to James he seems like a very sensible person."

It's a sensibility for someone described by Niumatalolo as anything but "a testosterone freak," influenced by parents who ensured sport stayed in perspective, priorities in order.

"My parents always pushed me in academics," says the well-rounded, well-traveled Rossi, who as the son of a career Navy man spent his childhood living in Virginia, California and Texas.

While at Jack C. Hays High School in Buda, Tex., Rossi was bright enough to rank near the top of a graduating class of roughly 450 and good enough to catch the eye of Todd Spencer, the longtime Navy assistant who recruits the Lonestar State.

When the interest intensified, Bill Rossi did his part to nudge his son toward the Naval Academy.

"He kind of pushed (the Academy)," James said of his father, who served some 24 years before retiring from duty last spring. "He knew it would be a real good life for me."

As time and experience have proven, in this case father knew best.

Life at the Academy has rewarded Rossi, an economics major, especially with the unbreakable link between present-day Midshipmen and their predecessors alike.

"We have a real close bond. We have to trust one another," Rossi says of current teammates, before thinking of the former players he's come across. "Even if you've never met them before, there's still a connection."

Within the next two weeks, if he hasn't done so already, Rossi will hit up a few of those close friends - the ones from places far removed from his home state - for tickets to the Mids encounter at Rice.

"It's about two to three hours away from Buda," says Rossi. "I have a lot of family members coming up for it. About 20 people say they'll be there."

This time, unlike the afternoon in 2003 when Rossi watched from the Houston sideline, he'll be smack in the middle of the action.

He'll be the one bent over the football, his gold helmet sticking out a bit further than the others along the line of scrimmage.

Just as he was positioned for the last six games of last fall, including the December day the Navy offensive line led every step of a 94-yard march into the record book against New Mexico.

"I was out there for all 26 snaps," James Rossi proudly says of the remarkable 141/2-minute series that sealed the Mids' Emerald Bowl victory. "It was a real exciting drive. I didn't realize how long it was, while we were out there."

Which is the way it's apparently supposed to be when you're in the middle of an offensive line simply doing your job, even if unbeknownst to the masses.

"After that drive," Rossi remembers, "everyone was going crazy."

Now that part we noticed.