Nov. 13, 2006

Brian Hampton: Play Every Play Like It's Your Last By Bob Socci

No season should end this way, especially when it's your last.

Not when you've worked so hard, waited so long, performed so well.

Those throws you made as a kid in the backyard, tossing one football after another into the tire your father had hung to help you master the art of a tight spiral.

That unwavering belief in your potential - always convinced you were cut out to be a Division I-A quarterback - even as you bided your time, bouncing from one position to the next.

Days such as this are supposed to validate all of that.

To stand under center before a record crowd soaked in sunshine, looking across the line at an unbeaten and nationally-ranked opponent. It's the kind of stage you dreamed about.

Only, fate doesn't always see fit to allow an outcome to equal the opportunity.

Sadly, sometimes as little as a single step can suck the life out of a vibrant Saturday and silence an entire stadium.

As it did this time, on a mid-October afternoon, when the great majority of the 36,918 at Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium gathered with the belief that Brian Hampton could lead his Midshipmen over Rutgers.

Based on the season to date, their faith was justified.

A senior who'd once returned kickoffs and briefly resided at slot back, Hampton helped Navy win five of its first six games. He'd gained at least 100 yards on the ground four times and was ranked among the national leaders in rushing (13th) and scoring (8th).

Within the previous two weeks, Hampton amassed more than 320 yards of total offense in a rout of Connecticut and scored two touchdowns in an always-emotional victory over Air Force.

But on the Mids' 11th play against the Scarlet Knights, Hampton reached Navy's 33-yard line with his sixth and final carry of the day.

"I saw Brian get tackled, but I didn't see anything too (extraordinary)," recalled slot back Trey Hines, who wound up among the players closest to Hampton after he was tackled by Rutgers' Ramel Meekins. "I heard this screaming and I tried to figure out who was screaming. I looked down and saw Brian holding his knee."

For athletic trainer Dr. Jeff Fair, it was that very same sound - rather than sight of the play as it unfolded - that prompted his quick attention to Hampton as he lay on the turf, not far from the Navy bench.

"If the play comes close to the sidelines, you're usually blocked by the other plays," Fair explained. "I heard Brian yell and I recognized his voice. That's when I took off."

Immediately accompanied by two of the team's doctors - as Hines frantically waved them to Hampton's aid - Fair discovered something he's never seen before in more than 30 years ministering to football players.

Not only was Hampton's left knee separated, his lower leg was rotated to the inside, causing what Cmdr. Mike Battaglia termed a "very catastrophic" injury.

Battaglia, one of the team's orthopedic surgeons, reset the leg, before Hampton was placed on a stretcher, carted off the field and taken to Anne Arundel Medical Center. The latter, according to Fair, to make sure Brian still had blood circulation.

Nearly 10 minutes after he'd gone down under the weight of the 275-pound Meekins, Hampton was driven away to the sound of his name being chanted by about 4,000 Midshipmen in attendance.

It was like a Bronx chorus of Yankees' fans serenading their favorite player by chanting "Der-ek Jeter, De-rek Jeter..." Instead, as the injured quarterback lifted his index finger to the Brigade, what he heard was, "Bri-an Hampton, Bri-an Hampton..."

The rhythmic sound of those syllables had ended the eerie silence that suddenly reflected the mood of his teammates.

"I was scared," says Hines. "I knew right away that he was done and would be hurt for a long time, so it upset me a lot."

"It kind of took the life out of us a little bit," said classmate Matt Pritchett, a starting offensive tackle.

"It was a hard thing to see and you could tell it in everybody's face," center and co-captain James Rossi says. "Some of the guys were getting tears from it."

In the few hours they remained on the field against the Scarlet Knights, the Mids never recovered, losing by a 34-0 final. But in the few weeks since, they've rebounded extremely well.

A primary reason is the one player who never shed a tear.

"I don't cry over spilled milk," Hampton said at practice the following Monday, when - despite hobbling around on crutches - he was already in his de facto role of coach and confidant for successor Kaipo-Noa Kaheaku-Enhada. "(Injuries) happen in football.

"I think you have to expect it every time you walk onto the field. We're not out here to play patty cake with each other, we're actually hitting each other. What we have on our goal board is to, 'Play every play like it's your last.' I don't have any regrets with the way I played. I played like every play was going to be my last."

As it turned out, he saved his best for last.

Making his first career start in the season opener opposite East Caroina, Hampton rushed for 149 yards and a touchdown. He went on to score at least once each of the next five games as well.

At Connecticut, before running for 182 yards and three touchdowns, Hampton delivered a 77-yard pass to Reggie Campbell for the game's first points. Then, a week later, he surpassed the century mark yet again and scored twice at Air Force.

Hampton shrugs off the mention of numbers putting him on pace for one of the greatest seasons by any option quarterback in Navy history. He's much more interested in making an impression that can't be quantified in a box score - but can only be felt on the field.

"(I'd like to be remembered as) a hard worker and a team player," Hampton says. "That I was a good leader. Hopefully, that shined through."

Without question, it did.

"Brian had a great field presence and could really lead all the other 10 positions and get them going in the same direction," says Pritchett. "If someone was down, Brian was there to pick him up."

Often that someone, it seems, was the very sophomore who's taken his place at quarterback.

In the immediate aftermath of Hampton's injury, no one appeared more emotionally affected than Kaheaku-Enhada.

"I didn't know what to think," Kaipo-Noa said in the press conference after the Rutgers game, described in some reports as fighting back tears. "I was in awe. It's hard to see someone like your brother ... When he went down, I didn't know what to do."

What Hampton decided on revealed remarkable selflessness and maturity for a young man injured less than two weeks before his 22nd birthday.

"I really just want to do two things, either get back on the field as quickly as I possibly can or get my coach's whistle," he told reporters. "Right now, I'm more or less trying to help get Kaipo ready for the next game."

Which - at the time - meant playing Notre Dame on national television and in front of roughly 70,000 fans in Baltimore.

Of course, Hampton would have been there in person, had he not spent the previous Thursday undergoing surgery performed by Cmdr. Battaglia and Dr. John Wilckens. Unable to attend M&T Bank Stadium, he remained in Annapolis.

At his side was older brother, Brad, while - at Brian's urging - his parents, Charles and Tonie, and another brother, Shawn, took their seats in the crowd. Brian never saw any reason for them not to go. It was important, he believed, for his parents to show their support of his teammates.

There were occasional phone calls throughout the game, checking on their son and inquiring about the replays on television. At the same time, Hampton could only imagine dialing up a direct line to Keheaku-Enhada.

"I wish he and I had a hotline, where he could get the red phone and I could let him know what I'm seeing," Hampton said with a chuckle, admitting that in his mind he managed the game against the Irish from the living room of his sponsors' home.

But as much as overhead cameras and slow motion replays might make reading the defense a bit less complicated, there's no doubt where Hampton would prefer to be.

"Your first instinct, being a ballplayer, is to want to get out on the field and contribute," he says. "It stinks, but I'm happy for my teammates and happy I can contribute in a way that possibly may give them an edge on winning a game."

Pritchett believes that edge exists, primarily though Hampton's influence on an understudy who's rushed for six touchdowns and passed for three more in Navy's last two wins over Duke and Eastern Michigan.

"I think he's helped (Kaipo-Noa) a lot," Pritchett observes. "You can tell since the Notre Dame game (on October 28) that Kaipo's calmed down a lot. I think Brian's had a lot to do with that - always in his ear, telling him he's doing a 'good job' and calming him down a lot."

Really, it's part of Hampton's new role, making the best out of what was a bad break.

"My team's still playing," he says. "I'm still part of this team. I just contribute in a different fashion."

"You see (Brian) out here at practice almost every day," says Pritchett. "He's in the locker room and he's got a smile on his face."

"Brian's spirits are all together," adds Hines, who notes that when Hampton isn't propping teammates up, he's cutting them down. "He comes out here and he's still cracking jokes and making fun of everybody. You know, the same old, same old."

That Hampton remains upbeat - far more likely to clean up than cry over spilled milk - reflects the depth of someone who won't be concealed by the uniform or helmet he's worn the last four years.

"You have to look at the bigger picture," Hampton said. "This is just a small portion of my life. Don't get me wrong, football has guided me in every single direction I've wanted to go and it's gotten me to places I didn't even think I could be at. But it was a means to an end.

"My career is with the Navy or Marine Corps - I really want to be a Marine Corps officer. But my career will just begin in a few years, it's not begun yet. I look toward the bigger picture and try to focus on that."

Claiming that he considers physical training to be - brace yourself - "fun" and that he actually enjoys running before the sun rises, Hampton figures life in the Corps is better suited to his personality. But while many of his teammates are interested in the infantry, Hampton's eyes are on aviation.

"I don't think there's one kid who hasn't dreamed of soaring above the ground," Hampton says. "This has been a dream since I was a child."

And while the severity of Hampton's injury caused initial concern that his could be a dream denied - or at least delayed - he has seemingly removed any sliver of doubt.

Thanks to the condition of his body and state of his mind.

After surgery, doctors told Hampton the procedure went better than expected - in large part because he went into the operating room in such great shape. He has since come out of it - having had his lateral collateral ligament (LCL) reattached - in an advanced state of recovery.

"You see him walking around here and if you don't look real closely, he doesn't even limp a whole lot," says Fair, pointing out in his experience that LCL injuries are almost exclusive to wrestlers and not football players. "(Brian's) progressing way above or way beyond what we expected right now.

"I expect him to be in good shape for commissioning."

Hampton spends close to three hours a day on a continuous passive motion (CPM) machine, designed to increase one's range of motion. There again, his development is accelerated well beyond the norm.

The time invested and pain that accompanies Hampton's effort to recuperate have made any academic challenges much more strenuous - whether caused by missed classroom lectures, labs or exams.

"I've always been a serious student because I know this is what's going to help me further down the line," he says, reminding one that mechanical engineering textbooks aren't necessarily written to be easily understood. "The only way you really start to understand is being in class and getting the lecture from teachers."

If putting in overtime is what it takes to get caught up, so it will be done for someone who hasn't enjoyed many - if any - shortcuts in his football career.

When he came to Annapolis, Hampton spent the fall of his freshman year returning kickoffs, before taking a detour to the slot back position and getting his shot at being a quarterback.

So intent on proving himself worthy of the position, Hampton spent most of the 2004 season as the last one off the practice field. As reporters assembled to talk to teammates, Hampton constantly refined his throwing motion, throwing footballs well into the darkness of November and December weeknights.

Reminded of his extra passing recently, Hampton harkened back to his youth as the son of a career Air Force man who'd played football at North Carolina. Charles Hampton eventually retired as a master sergeant.

He remains a mentor to his youngest son, having helped Brian build structure into his life at an early age.

"My parents were fair," Hampton says of Charles and his wife, Tonie. "(My dad) let you know your bounds and let you do whatever you wanted in between those...He just kept it real."

In the family's back yard, Charles set up a tire in front of a screen and gave Brian a handful of footballs to take aim - on the tire, and on the goals in his life.

A self-described "pee wee", Hampton kept practicing his passing motion, much as he would do years later as a sophomore at the Navy Academy.

Injury may have caused Brian Hampton to throw his final pass for the Mishipmen. But as he said, football is just a means to an end.

And the way he's handled himself since - revealing much more about the person than the player - the end justifies the means.

"I don't like to disappoint people I really care about," Hampton says. "That's one big driving factor in me."