Oct. 25, 2009

Bobby Doyle would like some slack. More than midway through his fourth collegiate season, he's spent too may Saturdays with his Navy teammates on a football high-wire, suspended above victory and defeat, with the outcome hanging on their balance.

The anything-but-mundane has become routine, their every step, until the final snap, fraught with possibility; for better or worse.

One the latest adventures for the Midshipmen took place two weeks ago at SMU. After erasing a 14-point, second-half deficit, they walked a tightrope into overtime, this time escaping Dallas with a 38-35 victory.

It was the seventh game of Doyle's career, and the second in three weeks, to extend past regulation. Since 2006, no one in Division I has experienced overtime more often. On numerous other occasions, only late-game theatrics saved Navy from an extra period.

That's a lot of tense, taut moments that tug on nerves and cause blood pressure to simmer. And the recently-turned 22-year-old Doyle has had about all he can stand.

Struggles like the one vs. the Mustangs, or an earlier entanglement with Air Force - each boiling down to an overtime field goal by Joe Buckley - keep an audience captive. But for a participant like Doyle, they're cause for cardiac arrest.

"These games are going to give me a heart attack," Doyle sighed, exhaling into the phone two days after the Mids' Oct. 17 rally. "They're going to shorten my life, we've had too many of these. It's been intense."

Doyle isn't entirely serious. You can hear his smile on the other end of the line. He's also more than slightly exaggerating.

As he's repeatedly proven, Doyle claiming to be stressed out on the field is a bit like the smartest kid in class fretting over some exam he or she is guaranteed to ace. He's been known, after all, to spread the power of positive thinking in the offensive huddle, one smile at a time.

"In some situations, I look at the offense and tell everybody to smile," Doyle says. "Especially if we're coming off a (timeout), I'll just tell everybody to smile. I did it a couple of times (at SMU)."

That Doyle kept his calm, even when it appeared to his current head coach, Ken Niumatalolo, that Navy was "panicking" at times, is really no surprise. It's how he was taught to think and act by the very first head coach in his life.

Doyle was born in Cleveland, Ohio - a city which, perhaps more than coincidentally, still celebrates the original `Kardiac Kids' from the NFL Browns of 1979-80 - and grew up about 20 miles away in Chardon.

When he was 7, his hometown rallied around a remarkable football rebirth by the local high school. Just two years removed from a winless autumn, Chardon High didn't suffer a loss the entire 1994 season.

With a penchant for late-game heroics, such as the game-winning 79-yard drive in the final 26 seconds of their 10th contest, the Hilltoppers went 14-0 and captured the state's Division II title.

Their head coach was Doyle's father, Bob.

"It's real big for guys who've been in (pressure) situations to make sure that everyone is calm and collected," the younger Doyle says. "I try to stay calm. I don't want to get too excited. My father took more of the calm route. He taught me to do whatever you need to do to get ready to play."

Chardon is a town of 5,100 or so, where farmland meets a rubber factory and where, Bobby jokes, "Wal-Mart is the most exciting thing there is." But like so many other small, sleepy towns in America, it blooms to life on Fridays in the fall. On other days, around coffee counters or inside barber shops, the local team is top of discussion.

Ostensibly wanting to avoid any questions about why the coach's son was playing quarterback, Bob retired before Bobby became a Hilltopper.

"Friday nights, that's where everybody is," Bobby says. "Probably the nicest thing in town is the football field. (My dad) didn't want people to think the only reason I was playing is that I was the coach's son. He wanted to be able to watch me play and not be involved in any politics."

Maybe he was no longer coaching other parents' boys, but Kathleen Doyle's husband was obviously coaching his own. Just ask Niumatalolo.

"He's got football common sense," Niumatalolo says of Doyle, whose role has annually expanded from sophomore on special teams to a senior starter at slot back. "Some guys need a million reps (in practice); Bobby doesn't. Everything is pretty clear to him, he's pretty logical.

"Conceptually, he sees things. You've got to be able to think on the run."

Niumatalolo expounds.

"Bobby comes to the sideline and tells you things that are happening on the field," he says. "He'll tell me when he was running a route that was wide open, because the free safety rolled over (to another receiver).

"Ninety percent of the time, when receivers say they're open, they're not. (But) when you turn on the (video) tape after the game, you see that Bobby was right. With most other guys, you turn on the tape and you see that they weren't open, that the safety was right there."

Joe DuPaix, who works most closely with Navy's slot backs, concurs.

"(Bobby) understands the game of football," says DuPaix, in his second year on Niumatalolo's staff. "He has a great intellect for the game. He plays with great effort, loves the game and has a passion for getting out there and blocking someone or running with the ball.

"He's always looking at the big picture out there. He's one of the guys you can trust."

DuPaix shared an anecdote about his own experience in which something Doyle spotted, with his own eyes, as it was happening, was later substantiated on video. Meanwhile, there's no need for Cory Finnerty to go to the tape. The view of his classmate, every day, is all the evidence he needs.

"Bobby has a great knowledge of the game, not just our part, but the entire offense," says Finnerty, who generally alternates with Doyle on one wing, opposite sophomore Marcus Curry. "He's got a great attitude. He comes to work really hard every day in practice. His knowledge of the game is really noticeable."

About the only thing related to the game that seemingly troubles Doyle is easily defining what a slot back is and does for those who've never seen Navy's triple option in action.

"There's no real answer," he says, opting to simply refer to his position as a slot receiver or running back.

For far richer context, one turns to DuPaix and Finnerty.

"A slot back is an athlete who has to be able to perform multiple skills," DuPaix says. "He has to catch, he has to run, he has to block and, most importantly, he has to have an attitude of complete unselfishness. You're not going to get the ball on every play. But you're called on multiple times to make big plays."

"It's a mixture of tight end and a running back," offers Finnerty. "There's the possibility of getting the ball on the pitch, mixed with blocking. We have to block all aspects of the defense. At times, we have to block everybody but the nose guard. We don't get the ball every time."

As blockers, Doyle and Finnerty helped spring Shun White free on the way to a 1,000-yard campaign in 2008. This season, they've created running lanes for Curry, a sophomore averaging 8.5 yards per rushing attempt.

"When the ball is not in your hands," DuPaix reiterates, "plays don't work if you're not getting your job done."

And when it is in your hands?

"When the play comes your way," he says, "you have to be ready to go."

Finnerty certainly was last year, when he scored on a 22-yard run vs. Notre Dame, and earlier this fall, when he caught a 29-yard pass against Western Kentucky.

And Doyle, well he's done as much as any Mid in recent memory to maximize the minimum. He's even got a nickname to show for it.

He isn't sure exactly when Navy sports information director Scott Strasemeier first referred to him as "Big Play Bobby." But Doyle darn well knows nearly every detail surrounding Bobby's first big play.

The dateline was Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium in Annapolis, on Sept. 22, 2007. With less than 4 minutes remaining, and about 4 minutes after a field goal drew the Mids within eight points of Duke, Doyle heard then coach Paul Johnson decide on a play deep in Duke territory.

He'd occasionally spelled regulars Reggie Campbell and Zerb Singleton, checking in "every five or six plays," and carrying once for eight yards. Now, with Navy at risk of falling to 1-3, he was on the sideline. Standing next to Doyle, Johnson started to dispatch receiver O.J. Washington toward the huddle.

Then Johnson changed his mind. And, as a result, changed the Mids' season, and changed Doyle's career.

"O.J. took two steps off the sideline and Coach Johnson called him back," recalls Doyle, the one-time quarterback who suddenly replaced Washington as Johnson's messenger. "I got in the huddle and told (quarterback) Jarod (Bryant) the play. He was like, `Halfback pass?'"

Believe it or not.

"I don't think we practiced that play in a couple of weeks," Doyle continued. "I was shocked. I thought, `We're actually going to do this.'"

Positioned on the left wing, Doyle motioned to the right and gathered in a pitch from Bryant. He took a couple of steps, before pivoting, cupping the ball near his right ear and lofting a throw into the left side of the end zone. Sliding underneath the ball, Bryant caught it for a touchdown.

Navy tied the game on the next play, a two-point run by Bryant, and won it by a 46-43 final, thanks to a last-second field goal by Joey Bullen.

"I really think that was (a turning point in my career)," Doyle said. "It was one of my best throws. We didn't throw the ball that much in high school.

"It was a big thing. It was the first real big impact I had on a (college) game."

But, in no way, was it the last.

Later, that December, Doyle helped the Midshipmen finish off Army, 38-3, setting up their final score with a blocked punt deep in Black Knights' territory. At Duke, in the third game of his junior year, on only the eighth carry of his career, he rushed 17 yards for his first collegiate touchdown.

There were no touches the following week, at home against Rutgers, and none for most of the next outing, at Wake Forest, where Navy was in position to do something it had not accomplished since 1985.

The Demon Deacons were nationally ranked - 15th in one poll, 16th in the other - and coming off a win over Florida State. A year earlier, they'd gone to Annapolis and beaten the Midshipmen by 20 points. But on Sept. 27, 2008, they were rendered vulnerable by a Navy defense that eventually forced six turnovers and an offense that built a 17-0 lead by halftime.

But for much of the second half, the Mids seemed to be stuck in quick sand, deep in their own end. Four of their first five series after intermission started inside their 20-yard line. Meanwhile, Wake's average starting position for the half was midfield.

With the grade of the field seemingly tilted against it, and getting steeper by the series, Navy needed something drastic to level the surface again, and prevent its narrowing lead from disappearing. On 3rd-and-2 from his own 9-yard line, Bryant surveyed the defense.

As originally called, the play was designed to go toward Doyle, with Bobby out front as a blocker. Bryant, however, recognized that numbers - too many defenders to that side - dictated a change of direction. He audibled, and gave the ball to Doyle.

Thirty-nine yards later, after his lone rush of the day, Doyle flipped the field in Navy's favor. Finally out of the shadow of their goal line, the Mids regained momentum. They scored on their next series to seal a 24-17 victory. For the first time in 14 years, Navy beat a team in the Top 20 of both major rankings.

"It was a great call by Jarod, and great blocking by Shun (White) and Tyree (Barnes)," says Doyle. "It's another one of those things you never forget."

How can you, when the mere mention of your nickname is a constant reminder of another big play?

"I'll take it, I definitely like it," he says, chuckling, of his moniker. "My father and his friends give me a hard time about it. They'll see me and ask, `What's up, Big Play?'"

He added to the legend of Big Play Bobby a week after the win over Wake Forest, on a trip to Air Force. Not by passing, running or receiving - all of which he'd done - but by recovering.

Already, the Midshipmen had scored off a blocked punt, after Blake Carter collected a rebound and raced 25 yards for a first-quarter touchdown. So, with about 10 minutes left and with a 26-20 lead, Navy wasn't necessarily expecting another block when the Falcons' Ryan Harrison lined up to punt again.

"We didn't have a punt block called," Doyle remembers.

Yet, that's what they got, when Harrison rolled right into Carter trying to execute a rugby-style kick. Thanks to the carom, there were two things in the end zone; Big Play and the ball.

"The only thing I was thinking was, `Do not kick it out of the end zone," Doyle says, repeating for effect. "Do not kick it out!'"

He didn't. Doyle fell on the ball to clinch a 33-27 win. Even on special teams, a B.P. from B.D.

"Bobby's accepted his role and thrived in that role, whatever it's been," says Niumatalolo, who saw Doyle account for 104 yards rushing and receiving this season vs. Western Kentucky. "Whether big or small, he's accepted and embraced his role."

"Even during the Duke game (in 2007), after we tied it, Coach (Jeff) Monken said, `Now, go make a play on special teams," said Doyle, who went out and made the tackle on the ensuing kickoff. "You can change the game on any play, in any facet. You just have to do your job."

Doyle's versatility - with or without the ball - and his ability to control the emotions of the moment - to remain the voice of calm as a storm brews - reflect his greatest off-the-field interest.

"I play the guitar a lot to relax," says Doyle, who shifts between acoustic and electric, strumming the chords from an eclectic song list, while occasionally collaborating with other midshipmen. "I love all types of music, from Bach to Jay-Z."

Similar to when he takes the stage on Saturdays.

If the Mids need to ratchet it up, Doyle can go old-school, hard rock like Stevie Van Zandt of the E-Street Band or Angus Young of AC/DC. Or he can help restore order to the huddle in those head-banging moments of close games, as if mimicking the smooth, jazzy sounds of Earl Klugh or George Benson.

That knack of keeping cool under heat is essential if Doyle attains his post-graduate ambition of becoming a Marine Corps pilot. And it will be as much an asset in life's later stages, which Bobby Doyle intends to spend just like Bob Doyle.

"It's what I want to do," he says of his desire to get into coaching. "It's in my blood. It's something I've been around my whole life."

Initially, he envisioned a career teaching high school kids. But now, Doyle says he'd like to coach collegians. In some ways, he already is.

"On the field during the game or in the meeting room, he's always been there to answer questions for young guys," says DuPaix. "You can count on him day in, day out."

"He's the ultimate team player," Niumatalolo adds. "He's definitely got the makings of a great coach."