Nov. 8, 2010

This is one of those rare instances, when all three dimensions of a football team are layered perfectly. One placed on top of the other so seamlessly as to appear in high definition during a 2½-minute window of game time.

In the middle of the sequence is a defensive back, lurking near the far hash mark, his eyes fixed on the opponent's backfield. He sees the quarterback scrambling to the right, flushed from the pocket by a pass rush.

Thirty yards away, he too maneuvers to his right, toward the middle of the field. Suddenly the ball is thrown in his direction, so the young safety lays out, and reaches out for a diving interception.

Five plays later, at the end of the sequence, an offensive teammate motions to the left, abandoning the right wing to catch a pitch and run parallel to the line of scrimmage. Turning the corner, he escapes one defender and eludes another.

As he steps across the 5-yard line, he propels himself toward the pylon. The ball is firmly gripped in his right hand, his inside hand, to ensure that it will pass over the goal line in fair territory, even as his body levitates on the foul side of the boundary.

Sophomores De'Von Richardson, with his first collegiate theft, and Gee Gee Greene, with his second career score, have helped Navy inflate a four-point lead to 11 in the waning seconds of the first half vs. Notre Dame.

Their acrobatics are ready-for-highlight viewing. Unquestionably, they are two of the most spectacular plays of the season.

For the most easily overlooked, yet still most important play of the sequence, you must back up, to about the 40-yard line of the Midshipmen. That's where it all begins.

It's where Kyle Delahooke stands, awaiting the snap for his first punt of the day.

Forty-eight hours earlier, Delahooke was sitting in the Academy's sports information office, speaking into a cell phone about his personal disappointment with the season to date.

"I don't think it's been a secret that this year hasn't been what I was hoping for," he was saying, five games into his third full season as the Mids' full-time punter.

Maybe that's because his first two years were so good. At 43.1 yards per punt in 2009 and 41.6 per kick in 2008, they rank third and fourth, respectively, among the best single-season averages in Navy history.

Delahooke outkicked the 50-yard mark 12 times last season. Included was a career-long 68-yarder in what amounted to a rain-soaked battle for field position, won by the Mids over Wake Forest, 13-10. Three punts in another low-scoring grinder, a 17-3 victory over Army, traveled 50 yards or more.

Entering this year, his last in Annapolis, Delahooke's 42.4 career average was second only to John Skaggs, who averaged 44.8 yards a punt from 2000-03. Delahooke was so consistently good in preseason, Navy head coach Ken Niumatalolo described him as "a machine."

Delahooke was officially watch-listed for the 2010 Ray Guy Award, presented to the nation's most outstanding punter. It's a trophy he repeatedly resembles, striking the statuette's pose every time his right foot lifts to the sky.

But early in this newest campaign, he looked little like the Delahooke of old.

In the opener against Maryland, his two punts carried just 30 and 29 yards. The next two weeks, Delahooke's average was a very uncharacteristic 36 yards a kick.

He began October by briefly recapturing his stroke at Air Force, where his first punt forced the Falcons to start their initial series from their 6-yard line. The next effort resulted in a net 46-yarder to the AFA 12. His third sailed 54 yards.

The fourth, though, never really got airborne. Jamil Cooks blocked it to set up the Falcons' fourth-quarter touchdown their 14-6 win over the Mids. It was a tremendous play by Cooks, rather than any failure by Delahooke.

Nonetheless, the sting of such a sudden swing of events lingers. In a split-second, momentum and, potentially, much more shift sides. It's why one truly stands alone in the extra-snug shoes of a punter.

In-game opportunities are rare. Often they come at crucial times. More than occasionally, with your team facing far-from-ideal field position. And once you set up, 15 yards behind the line of scrimmage, there's absolutely no place to hide.

"It's not the easiest thing," Delahooke explains. "I played other positions in high school. If you miss a block or a tackle, you have other chances to make it up. As a punter, you often don't get a shot at redemption. That's where the emotional strain comes in."

One minor slip or miss-hit can penetrate both soul and psyche; particularly, if you lack perspective.

Fortunately, Delahooke sees so much more than what unfolds in the two seconds between the snap of the ball and its impact against his right foot.

"It's been a journey this season," he says. "It's been kind of a disappointment, but I really feel like I've grown as a person and spiritually. This time has its purpose.

"You have to really consider what you value and consider as a priority. Statistics were (once) a priority. But my priorities were in the wrong place. It's not necessarily about (my) performance, it's about who I am, and the leadership I provide. It's about where I can fit in and be a leader."

Where that is, it seems, is just about everywhere, to just about everyone involved with Navy football.

"He's such a big leader," says the Mids' head coach Ken Niumatalolo.

"He's covering all 360 degrees," adds Capt. Bryce McDonald, the team's primary military liaison officer, speaking like the true Marine that he is about Delahooke. "He's the same way in (Bancroft) Hall and in the classroom."

Put another way, as Delahooke's daily world keeps spinning, he continues to do what others might find dizzying.

On one point of his compass, he is a three-year football starter and one of the school's best-ever at his position. On another, he is an academic standout, earning a 3.01 grade-point average as an International Relations major.

Looking in a third direction, Delahooke's promise as an officer-in-training makes him a well-decorated midshipman. And with yet another turn, coming full circle, he is active in guiding weekly religious studies.

Complete commitment from a total person.

"He's a mature, well-spoken, well-rounded young man," says McDonald. "The Hall and Academy think just highly as we do about him."

"(Kyle) has an impeccable record in the Hall," Niumatalolo says, like McDonald, referring to Bancroft Hall, where midshipmen are ultimately judged as leaders-to-be in the Navy and Marine Corps. "He talks the talk, and walks the walk."

Squaring his corners and avoiding shortcuts, one presumes. How else could a punter wield such influence over others?

"It's definitely tough playing special teams," Delahooke admits with a chuckle, acknowledging a widely-held stereotype about kicking specialists. "There's a certain respect that goes with playing other positions. In the day-in, day-out grind, our bodies don't take some of the poundings as other guys.

"Ours is more of a mental and emotional thing. Young guys don't come in here and look to up to (me), like, `Hey, you're a punter!'"

Other locker rooms, like practice fields - where kickers have plenty of time and space to themselves - might be separated. Not Navy's. That may be due to the sheer nature of the Academy brotherhood.

But part of it, Niumatalolo believes, reflects how Delahooke and his fellow specialists prepare.

"Sometimes (kickers) might be distant," said Niumatalolo. "But (here) they're such a strong part of the team, the way they train. They train as if they're every-down players."

Delahooke thinks that way too, though punts are few and far between. Regardless of the last, he looks forward to the next. Just like full-timers, who must play as if the only down that counts is the one upcoming.

"Pride can lead you to a bad punt," Delahooke says. "Anger and frustration can lead to a bad punt. Coming off the sideline, (I) just try to take a deep breath. (I've) got to be ready."

He is discussing leadership by example. And based on the example Delahooke sets, Niumatalolo expects him to lead with words as well.

"Kyle is our honor representative, so to speak," Niumatalolo says. "He's constantly reminding guys to do what's right."

"He's done a good job of educating our players on being midshipmen," says McDonald.

No ones better suited for that role than Delahooke, who's long prepared to exchange his shoulder pads for shoulder boards.

"I just try to encourage guys in Bancroft Hall," he says. "Just being a senior in general, there's an expectation that we share what we learn and have to try to help other guys."

Actually, Delahooke's been doing so for years. As McDonald alluded to, his contributions have gained notice outside the football program, inside the halls that house the Academy hierarchy.

Almost immediately after reaching Annapolis from Southern California, the grandson of two Korean War veterans - his maternal served in the Navy, paternal in the Army - Delahooke distinguished himself.

Peers in the Academy's 19th company recognized how his daily life revolved around commitments to sport, academics and, through his plebe duties, them. Constantly turning those 360 degrees; never falling off his axis.

The 19th nominated Delahooke to be the Midshipman of the Semester in the spring of 2008. Comparing him to other companies' nominees, his Battalion concurred. Eventually, so did a five-member panel made up of Brigade staff.

"There were a lot of people a lot more deserving than me," Delahooke says. "I just tried to have interaction with my company. I tried to make it a priority to have a positive impact. I tried to show people that I know it's important (to be involved)."

Contrary to some published misconceptions, Delahooke doesn't consider himself an exception during a period of prolonged on-field success, and heightened off-field scrutiny, for Navy football players.

"I don't think there's anyone I'd rather serve with than the guys on this team," he says, "A lot of football players do well in the Hall, but there are expectations (from others) that football players are going to cut corners."

In 2008, while Delahooke was honored by Academy contemporaries, senior teammate Zerbin Singleton served as Brigade Commander. Also, seniors Jonathon Alvarado and Chris Kuhar-Pitters were selected Company Commanders.

Last year, linebackers Ross Pospisil and Tony Haberer became commanders of their companies. Now 2nd Lt. Pospisil, USMC, Ross remains with the football team as a graduate assistant.

This March, he'll report to The Basic School in Quantico, Va. for training in a career he intends to spend as a Marine pilot. Until then, Pospisil and other graduates on temporary assignment duty will continue to be, as McDonald says, "leadership mentors."

The premise, repeatedly professed by Niumatalolo, is to help Midshipmen shine, even when their uniforms of the day aren't furnished by Nike. Showing the way, as well, is the punter who - like Pospisil and McDonald - wants to be fitted for the dress blues of the Corps.

"You play football for four years, but you can be an officer for 15-20 years," Delahooke says. "I've learned more lessons on the football field than anywhere else. You try to take it in stride that you'll be leading people as an officer when you leave here."

Delahooke gained a deeper appreciation for that reality last summer, touring with Marines at Camp Lejeune, N.C. Observations of them, and his own self-exploration, convinced him of his calling.

"It jumps out to you and you want to be a part of it," Delahooke says of the "Semper Fidelis" way of life. "They wake up and have great pride in what they do.

"Marines have an entirely different mindset. They like things done a certain way, and like to do things right. They know the right way things have to get done. I feel like Marines go above and beyond."

If Delahooke is a standard-bearer for teammates, he's had his own role models. They include Col. John C. Kennedy, the Academy's highest-ranking Marine. Another is Delahooke's first company officer, Capt. William Weis.

"He's one of those guys you want to be like," says Delahooke. "Every guy in our company respected him."

Exactly as he and his teammates admire McDonald, a former Navy fullback who graduated with the Class of 2003, did a tour of duty in Iraq and returned a Purple Heart recipient.

"Captain McDonald is someone everyone respects," says Delahooke. "He doesn't treat his job (with football players) any differently than if he was leading soldiers. He's constantly telling us to, `Inspect what you expect.'

"He doesn't want to settle for less in any aspect. It's not always what you want to hear, but it's refreshing that he sees the bigger picture. He's someone who's been there and done that."

The uncompromising McDonald is confident Delahooke can do it too.

"You give Kyle a task and he runs with it," says McDonald. "He's like a `fire and forget' weapon. He doesn't need a lot of oversight.

"There's no doubt in my mind that he'll be successful, whether he's a Marine or winds up with another service selection."

Whether granted or not, Delahooke's first career wish apparently influenced his younger brother, Kurtis, a freshman enrolled in the Marine's ROTC program at the University of Colorado.

That both would long for the rigidity of the Corps dispels many of the preconceptions about another sport Delahooke loves.

For years, since he was 3, he has ridden the waves off the So Cal coast. Growing up near Pasadena, his grandparents owned a beach condo. His father, Todd, and uncles were avid surfers. Todd still competes locally.

In family travels, Kyle surfed in Costa Rica, Hawaii and Mexico. He has friends who set out on the pro circuit. They may have enjoyed fast times at high tides, but they were hardly in the fictional mold of Jeff Spicoli, of Ridgemont High fame.

"For a lot of good guys, it's an escape on mornings or weekends, just like going for a run" Delahooke describes, laughingly dismissing the Hollywood image of, in his words, "pot-smoking, long-haired hippies."

No, it's hard to find anyone more cleanly cut than Delahooke.

Serious interest in surfing waned by the time Delahooke was being recruited to the Academy as a place-kicker. Once here, he essentially taught himself how to punt, increasing the probability of early playing time.

Delahooke made his debut as a sophomore on Aug. 30, 2008. He hasn't stopped punting since.

Asked if kicking before tens of thousands is anything like balancing yourself on a board, staring down a cresting wave, Delahooke conceded only that there's a similar adrenaline rush.

"Football is definitely way worse," he says. "There's no pressure in surfing. If you mess up, you mess up. In football, when you mess up, there are consequences."

This season, more than others, Delahooke has experienced some of those consequences. He's a better man for it.

"I definitely grew more through the adversity," said Delahooke, who grounds himself with teammates at twice-weekly Bible studies. "It's not easy to go through, but in the end you're thankful for it."

Which takes us back to the beginning; to that special sequence at the New Meadowlands Stadium.

Notre Dame trails by four and is about to get the ball back. With it, the Irish might take a lead into halftime.

Kyle Delahooke stations himself in front of 75,000-plus in house and millions nationwide. Teammate Brian Ackerman delivers the football and Delahooke steps into his punt. He arches a thing of beauty, toward the Fighting Irish's John Goodman.

The ball touches down and bounces inside the 5-yard line. Ackerman reaches it at the 3.

And Delahooke completes a full revolution, 360 degrees. He is back his old self.