Sept. 6, 2009

By Bob Socci

All the coach wanted to do, ostensibly, was to ensure that the player understood the practice drill. Not brand him forever.

"Are you ready, A-sa?" the coach asked, elongating the first syllable in that unmistakable voice of his, the one that always managed to be heard above any other. "Are you with me, A-sa?"

The look in return suggested anything but "yes."

Otherwise, the coach would not have caught on. His heart, as always, was in the right place. Only his vowels were out of place.

"That is your name, isn't it?" said Todd Spencer, probing the Navy plebe once again.

No, it wasn't. At least up to that moment in Osei Asante's life. But it was soon to become a substitute, one of many. To giggling teammates, A-sa sure sounded like the perfect pseudonym for Oh-say.

"It kind of stuck from that day on," says Asante, a living, laughing example of how a nickname is born into the Midshipmen family. "If it's funny, especially from Coach Spencer, it's going to stick. I like A-sa, because Coach Spencer used it."

"Coach Spencer used to butcher (Osei's) name," senior classmate Curtis Bass confirms. "We've been making a joke of it since."

A blond dervish who stomped about the field, with fists clenched tightly, coaching Navy's offensive linemen, Spencer somehow overcame his permanent hoarseness to lift his words loudly enough to reach Maryland's Eastern Shore. Listen carefully and you may even hear him today, all the way from Atlanta, where he now works at Georgia Tech.

In the spirit of self-deprecation - a trait necessary to survive football's frontline, and its locker-room culture - Asante still smiles at the sound of those two syllables. Never more than when his buddy calls him out.

"Curtis Bass is kind of a clown," Osei says. "How silly and goofy he is, makes it funny."

Remarkably, Bass and the boys struck it rich again, when Asante experienced a revelation during a Western Civilization class, spawning yet another moniker.

They already understood the humble Houstonian to be a prince of guy. What everyone, including Osei, would soon find out is that he truly was exactly that, a Prince - as in Charles, not The Artist Formerly Known As.

It turns out, the bright, soft-spoken kid who easily bonded with others - first at prep school, and then in Annapolis - thanks so much to his air of humility, was actually an heir to royalty.

Vaguely familiar with his father's homeland, Asante had been to Ghana twice before his 12th birthday. But, not until years later, in an Academy classroom, did he realize where - and what - he came from.

Looking at a map of Africa, he spotted his name, right there in central Ghana. He turned to Austin Milke, another Navy offensive lineman who was sitting next to him, and told him to check it out. Milke could hardly contain himself.

"Like the story said," Asante replied, when asked about a blurb written by The Washington Times' Patrick Stevens, "Austin just blurted out in front of the whole class, `Osei's a prince, he has his own kingdom!'"

Well, sort of. From the late 17th century through much of the 19th century, a large portion of the Western African nation of Ghana was dominated by the state of Asante. Presiding over this area rich in gold, known as the Ashanti Kingdom, was the Asantehene - King Osei Tut.

By the mid-18th century, the kingdom covered roughly 100,000 square miles. But by the onset of the 20th century, it fell under British rule.

"My great grandmother was the last person to stand up to the British," says Asante, whose curiosity about his ancestry was seriously piqued. "Growing up, my father didn't tell me too much about where I came from. I'm not sure, but I think he wanted to leave it up to me."

And so, following his - and Milke's - amazing discovery, he peered into his past. Yes, it was true, he learned from his father, Osei Sr., whose travels took him from Africa to Europe to the United States.

"If this is true," junior reacted, "then you're a king and I am a prince!"

As word spread amongst his teammates that there was genuine nobility in their midst, you know what came next, and hasn't stopped since.

"We joke with him all the time," says fellow senior Jordan Stephens. "We kid him that we should roll out the red carpet for him."

"I mess with him all the time," Bass says with a laugh. "He's gonna share his royal treasures one day."

Before long, Asante had nearly too many nicknames to know which to answer to. Most, naturally, had to do with the royal subject. They include, "Da Prince" and "Prince Osa," etcetera. Just about everything but "The Fresh Prince." Apparently, that one had grown too stale.

Eventually, the Mids came up with another means of referring to him. Setting levity aside, they named him, like linebacker Ross Pospisil, their co-captain. Within the province of an Academy sports team, there's no title more meaningful.

"It's a great responsibility, a true honor to carry that title," says Asante. "It's one of the greatest opportunities anyone can have. It took a few weeks to settle in."

His electorate, leaders all, didn't mind that Asante hadn't appeared in a varsity game until last year, and hadn't started one until yesterday against Ohio State. He was an easy choice.

"Osei's just a great guy," Bass offers, turning serious for a moment to praise his friend since their year together at the Naval Academy Prep School. "You always feel like you can come to him for advice. Everybody looks up to him. He always does the right thing."

A rare quality, as Stephens explains.

"When you think about being captain of this team, you think about everything it encompasses," he says in the drawl of his Georgia roots. "You have to have someone who (serves as an example), in the hall, in the class room, on the field, and in the community. Osei and Ross are both at the top of the list.

"Osei just has a presence, he commands respect. I don't think anybody was surprised. I don't think anybody would have it any differently."

"Everybody on the team understands Osei," adds Ashley Ingram, who succeeded Spencer as Asante's primary position coach, and got his name right, first try. "He's a team guy. He isn't selfish in any way."

Ingram appreciates Asante's substantive style of leadership, which he characterizes as "business like." There's no "fake enthusiasm," the coach insists. What you're more likely to see than hear is what you get.

"Words are just words," says Asante. "Vocal leadership is one of the things I need to work on. I'm not one to do much talking. I let my actions speak for me."

That's the approach that's always suited, and spoken to him in previous seasons. Two predecessors, particularly, who touched Asante were James Rossi and Reggie Campbell, offensive captains his first two years.

"Looking at how (James) played and conducted himself, that's how I would like to be," he says of the former Navy center. "He worked hard, didn't say anything (negative) and always led from out front.

"(Reggie also) let his actions do most of his talking. He truly was inspiring."

Rossi and Campbell embodied the image of a Navy football player that Asante first formed while prepping in Newport, R.I. An impressionable youngster, he heard from ex-players turned NAPS coaches, like Bobby McClarin, about the ties that bind Midshipmen.

Then he learned about them first hand.

"Bobby instilled the most about the (Navy) brotherhood," Asante said. "(But) you don't know what it truly is until you live it. It takes a full year to truly gain an understanding of it."

What he also realized, citing former linemen Rossi and Matt Pritchett as examples, is that you can work your way from the background to the forefront as a player and leader.

"Coach (Ken) Niumatalolo sums it up perfectly," says Asante. "You can come from the back of the (team) room, not playing much, to being in the front of the room."

For Asante, effort finally met opportunity last fall. Once a left tackle in a passing-oriented offense at Cypress Ridge High School in Texas, he had auditioned at center before settling at left guard, a self-described "natural position." By the start of 2008, he became a backup to two-year starter Anthony Gaskins.

And when injured Gaskins left the lineup early against Army in December, Asante moved in. He performed so well, and the transition was so seamless, you'd never know it. For a while, in fact, even a couple of Navy coaches didn't.

"The best thing about the Army game is that a couple of (other position) coaches on offense didn't notice that Anthony had left the game," Ingram recalled. "We didn't miss a beat."

"It was a great experience," says Asante. "When Anthony went down, it was like second nature. I'm not going to lie, there were some butterflies. Coach Ingram made sure I was ahead of the game, preparing the entire season."

As this season begins, Bass believes Asante is well ahead of where he was.

"Osei really came into his own," he said. "He realized he could be a very good player."

And Asante understands how to do it, as a 6-foot-1, 265-pound lineman in the Mids' triple option offense. The things we usually think of first, sheer size and brute strength, are secondary.

"Quickness is the key playing guard," Asante explains. "You have to get your first two steps on the ground before contact, because (in our offense) you don't have to have the mass and size to move people out of the way."

One needs only to check the numbers for Asante's case in point. For each of the last four years, Navy's generally under-sized offensive lines - in comparison to Division I counterparts - have moved enough mass to lead the nation in rushing.

But while his short-term sights are set on helping his teammates rule that strip of territory known as the line of scrimmage, there's a different domain Asante plans to conquer in years to come. And though quick feet would be nice, the main ingredient is the right touch.

"Long after the military," says the soon-to-be-commissioned Navy officer, tongue partly in cheek, "I might be a star on Top Chef someday."

Of all life's objectives, the culinary calling might come most natural to Asante. For this descendent of kings is also the son a mother who's a queen of the kitchen.

"I still hear about my mother's cooking from teammates every day," Asante says of his mom, Faith Thompson. "I watched her the same way she watched my grandmother, standing in the kitchen."

Asante boasts about his Mom's spaghetti sauce. But since he's a bit biased, why not consult with a more objective food critic.

"Absolutely," Stephens offers, without hesitation, when asked for a second opinion. "A couple of years ago, (the Asantes) had us over at (Osei's) sponsors (the Doyles of Severna Park, Md.). His mother's spaghetti was the best stuff I've ever had."

Does he think his teammate, who admits to surfing the Food Network website for ideas, has a future in an apron once he hangs up the shoulder pads?

"If his cooking is anything like his mom's, I'm sure it's good," says Stephens, who then reveals the not-so-secret recipe, should Asante ever try to cook his way into his teammates' hearts. "Just have a lot of it."

Claiming that his burgers are unrivaled - and, no, he won't reveal what he flavors the meat with - Osei reminds one that the joy of cooking adds more than simply the spice of life.

"You never know when you're going to have to fend for yourself," says a very practical Asante.

When informed that Rashawn King, who graduated from the Mids' secondary after last season, was reputed to be an excellent baker, Asante sounded a like a wanna-be Bobby Flay.

"If Rashawn's a good cook," he teased, "he and I can `Throw Down' someday."

Until then, Asante will go about life as he always has. Extra honey, hold the vinegar. The prince with the King Midas touch.

"Osei has a contagious smile," says Stephens. "He just makes you feel better."

Considering the impact he has on current Mids, it's in the Academy's - the country's, really - best interest if another Asante ambition comes to fruition.

"Hopefully, one day I can come back here (to Annapolis) and serve as a company officer," he says.

His desire to give back, both words and deeds, threads consistently through all aspects of Asante's life. It's certainly prevalent in his interests and ambitions. And reflected by others he admires, from those who allow us to escape from the challenges of our day to those who set out to change them.

Ask him why he'd love to meet actor Denzel Washington, and Asante will recall an article he read, highlighting the actor's overriding commitment to family and community. Wonder why he'd want Martin Luther King Jr. to sit at the table of his dreams, and Osei will admit to being awestruck.

"He made people think," Asante says. "He made people see things in a different light. He made a difference in people's lives."

To do the same - perhaps even while revisiting the land of the Ashanti Kingdom - appeals most profoundly to Asante.

"It would be an awesome experience to go (to Ghana) someday and shed some of my knowledge," he said. "It would be awesome to go back as kind of an ambassador for the U.S.

"Their hospitality is unrivaled. They're such humble people."

The world recently witnessed that side of Ghana's citizens and more, when they become the first African people to welcome our first African-American president, Barack Obama.

He too is very much on the mind of Asante, who'd like to lead the Midshipmen back to the Obama residence next spring. Osei dropped by the White House last year to shake hands with the Commander in Chief, after he and his mates were crowned champions of service-academy football.

Were Navy to win another - a record seventh in a row - Asante, as captain, would stand by the side of the man whose orders he'll soon follow.

Imagine that photo op. The president and the prince.

"It would be a whole different experience to be on the stage with him," Osei Asante says. "It would be a great experience, a great feeling.

"Taking orders from him takes it to the next level. It's something I would never have expected, becoming one of our two captains, about to become an officer in the U.S. Navy, and taking orders from an African-American president. It shows that anything can happen."