Patriot News
8/27
HIGH SCHOOL FOOTBALL PREVIEW 2005
WORTHY OF THE HYPE
Seldom, if ever, has central Pennsylvania been blessed with three high school football players with the reputation of LeSean McCoy, Zach Frazer and Jared Odrick. But even without the adulation of fans and college scouts, each would be a special teenager in his own way.
Sunday, August 28, 2005
BY ROD FRISCO
Of The Patriot-News
LeSean McCoy can't stop shaking hands. Or giving hugs. Or talking. He just can't. With a personality as big and as demonstrative as his football statistics, McCoy is a walking marquee: "Live! LeSean McCoy! Running Away From A Defensive Back At A Stadium Near You!"
An hour spent with McCoy, the phenomenal Bishop McDevitt senior running back, is an hour packed with room-filling smiles, habitual hand-motions punctuating his talking points, and tales of days not-so-long-ago spent in Harrisburg's friendly north side.
And handshakes. Lots of handshakes.
He is a natural entertainer, not in the vaudevillian sense, but with an innate ability to erase dead air, to keep a conversation breezing along when it could just as easily go down a well.
Critically, it is not an act. The essential LeSean McCoy, among the hottest high school football recruits in the nation, is the natural LeSean McCoy. He does not have to put on a show; McCoy, all by himself and being himself, is the show.
Yet he pulls it off in a most amazingly relaxed and even humble way. On this night, he is virtually bling-free; his only accessory is his ever-present and ever-chirping cell phone.
One ring catches his attention. It is teammate and fellow Division I recruit Aaron Berry.
"It's Aaron. Gotta call him back later," McCoy says.
Across the table floats a voice, soft but sincere: It is his mother, Daphne.
"You mean you have to turn it off," she says.
McCoy, called "Shady" by everybody in the city, hits the red button. For a few more minutes, Aaron Berry must wait. However briefly, McCoy has fallen silent, stopped in his tracks. It is a rare event on the football field, but not in the McCoy's North 15th Street home.
Here, Mom is always right. Always.
Here, the two-time all-state pick, the sure-fire All-American, is just plain ol' LeSean, Son and Brother.
But only for a second. The moment passes, and the conversation resumes as if it was never interrupted. But the cell phone remains off for the remainder of the session.
And Shady McCoy ramps up again, feeling quite free to tell you how, after his National Football League career comes to a close, he wants to be a color analyst in a network broadcasting booth.
THE UNDERSTATED ONE
Zach Frazer is not LeSean McCoy. Not even close.
Whereas McCoy is the master of natural charm, Frazer is a study in sincerity.
Football is Frazer's intrinsic passion, but not his only one.
When you open the lid on Frazer's life, you find remarkable depth: His faith is paramount, and he is every bit as enthusiastic about a mission sponsored by his church as he is about his senior year at quarterback for Mechanicsburg Area High School.
During the course of an hour-long interview at his parents' Upper Allen Twp. home, the word "football" was mentioned with no more frequency than "purpose" or "NCAA 2006," the latter a wildly popular college football video game at which he never loses.
"I'm addicted to [the game]," Frazer said of his lone vice.
Not once was the number "3,764" mentioned, the number of passing yards he compiled last year, setting a Pennsylvania single-season record and the statistic that is primarily responsible, along with his verbal commitment to Notre Dame, for his sudden fame.
On a recent trip to Florida to visit family, he had one rule: No football talk. And when that rule was inevitably violated, he stepped in early and cut it off. Politely, of course.
If McCoy's conversations are peripatetic, rapidly moving from one subject to another, Frazer's thoughts run in a straight line.
This makes perfect sense. The two athletes' thought processes mirror their play on the field: Shady, the demonstrative running back who cuts and slashes his way to success in the midst of ever-changing chaos; Zach, the analytical quarterback who thinks before, during and after the snap and sees not chaos, but only order and progression.
In his parents' comfortable living room in Upper Allen Twp., Frazer talks about how important it is to have a well-rounded, well-defined life, one steeped in values that could properly be described as American traditional.
It's an interesting setting. His father, Dave, an executive at the American Heart Association in Camp Hill, sits quietly on a nearby sofa, but is clearly focused on every word his son says, occasionally nodding in agreement.
Frazer's mother, Chris, sits quietly in the background, only sporadically offering an insight. His girlfriend, Kayla Helm, joins the scene so silently her presence is virtually unnoticed until the end.
No cell phone rings. No television or radio blares. It's just Zach and his formidable thoughts, only a few of which come off the sheet of notes he has prepared for the interview. It is Zach Unplugged.
"I used to look up to athletes, because I thought that sports was a great way for people to help themselves, and that athletes could help people, too," Frazer says. "I realize that I have the opportunity to play that role. And I'm excited about it."
And with that, Frazer feels quite free to say that, after his National Football League career comes to a close, he will select a sports-related career of some regard, possibly coaching, the gift he has received from his current mentor, Rich Lichtel.
THE GENTLE GIANT
Jared Odrick fills up a chair in a Lancaster restaurant and says that, beyond what happens on the football field, he does "the normal things that teenagers do."
The statement is jarring. Not because it is untrue; it is quite accurate. It is jolting because Odrick, Lebanon's huge senior defensive end, is just so ... un-teen.
At 6 feet, 6 inches tall and 288 pounds, nothing about Odrick's physical presence says "teenager."
The amazing thing is that there is no excess evident in Odrick's 288 pounds. None.
Even Odrick's facial features belie his age. It is difficult to look at Odrick in any capacity and believe that he is a man-child and not just a man.
The time for that -- becoming a full-fledged man -- will come soon enough, Odrick acknowledges.
He is, much like his new buddy LeSean McCoy, being heavily recruited by the most major of colleges, a process that forces anyone to grow up quickly. His list of five finalists is a healthy one: Florida, Georgia, Virginia, Virginia Tech and Penn State.
There's only one problem. Literally just seconds after Odrick lists the teams, McCoy wanders over, clasps hands with Odrick and cuts the Cedar's list to a final two.
"What's up, J.O.?" McCoy says. "I hear it's down to Florida and Penn State."
The look on Odrick's face is priceless.
"I just gave the man here my final five," Odrick says.
"Nah, it's Florida and Penn State," McCoy says, suddenly grinning broadly before walking away.
Odrick looks at McCoy, then turns and shakes his head.
"Shady's always got something to say," Odrick says.
How little Odrick knows: No sooner has his last sentence passed into history than Odrick is asked if he is dating McCoy's former girlfriend.
Odrick's eyes fly open in surprise. His hands rise halfway to his shoulders, then flop back to his lap.
"Oh, man..." he sighs.
Not to worry. On the field, no one else does Odrick's talking for him. And when he does speak, his words are strong and articulate.
"For a lot of people, sports are something they do for enjoyment," Odrick says. "But for me, right now, it's my life. I haven't looked at much else. This is where my focus is right now."
So it is without much hesitation that Odrick tells you, after his National Football League career comes to a close, that he feels that a job in sports management will suit him best.
MORE THAN THE SKILLS
What is it we have here in the midstate in 2005? Players openly acknowledging that their primary career goal is a stretch in the NFL? Seems a little brash, doesn't it?
Certainly, it takes considerable courage and an inordinate amount of confidence to project that large and that far into the future.
Yet, even though the midstate's three biggest stars -- McCoy, Frazer and Odrick -- are just entering their senior years in high school, an NFL life does not seem a fantasy or a hopeless exaggeration.
They can play, and they can play well.
McCoy is already at the top of the high school mountain. Twice he has been an all-state player. He was the EA Sports national sophomore of the year after averaging 256 yards rushing per game, then followed up with 2,828 last year.
Based on his per-year average, he has a chance to become Pennsylvania's career leading rusher. East Stroudsburg's James Mungro rushed for 8,432 yards in a four-year career that ended in 1995.
McCoy needs 2,682 yards to beat that mark; he's averaged 2,695 the last two seasons.
Frazer's success last year almost defies belief. With Mechanicsburg bereft of running backs, Lichtel let his junior quarterback rip. And rip. And rip. The next thing anyone knew, the Wildcats were in the 3-AAA championship game giving Manheim Central all kinds of grief, Frazer was a state record-holder and a star was born.
All of this after playing six quarters of varsity ball as a sophomore.
Because Odrick is a defensive lineman, his statistics do not deal in yards. Rather, they deal in brute force, and in a way, his stats -- 72 tackles, nine for loss, five sacks and a pair of pass breakups -- are every bit as impressive as the mega-yards compiled by McCoy and Frazer.
So, football is a given.
But what else lies in those blessed young men, so fortunate in their genetic makeup, so similar in their athletic pursuits, so different in their personalities?
Plenty.
RISING ABOVE THE GAME
LeSean McCoy doesn't mind being a star.
Asked if he has tired of the near-constant attention that has been thrust his way since he became national news, McCoy shakes his head back and forth.
"No, I think I'm handling it pretty well," he said.
He is, in large measure because he is considerably more humble than his effusive personality lets on. McCoy is expressive, yes, but he is not a hot-headed egomaniac or a show-off desperate for attention.
Example: During McDevitt's thrilling 23-20 triumph over Berwick last season, McCoy, who had just begun returning to full health after an early-season ankle injury, was ridden out of bounds on the Berwick sideline after a short gain.
A Berwick assistant coach, fired up by the Bulldogs' strong defensive play, came charging down the sideline, simultaneously congratulating his team and questioning McCoy's superstar credentials.
McCoy could have reacted a dozen different ways to this bellowing adult just a foot or so from him. What he did was to hop up, drop the ball on the ground and wordlessly draw his upraised index finger to his face mask.
In other words, he "shushed" him, saying a whole lot without saying anything.
"You hear a lot out there," McCoy said. "People are always trying to get into your head. And sometimes in the pile, players will grab you and poke at you.
"But the funny thing is, these same people who are running their mouths at you? When you score a touchdown, they kind of look away and don't say too much," McCoy said.
"Besides, I let Aaron [Berry] do my talking for me out on the field," he said, laughing.
McCoy picked up football early, following his older brother LeRon (a rookie on the Arizona Cardinals roster as of this writing) to pickup games at the age of 3.
"That's no kidding," Daphne McCoy said. "Wherever LeRon would go, LeSean wanted to go, too. And he would want to do whatever LeRon was doing."
That's not surprising, considering that LeRon actually named LeSean.
By the ages of 7 and 8, LeSean McCoy was already dazzling neighborhood kids three and four years older, and everyone in the city with even a slight interest in midget football knew he had special talent.
But few people know that McCoy also loved baseball and basketball, and considering pursuing both sports before settling on football.
Indeed, it was in baseball that his nickname, given to him by his mother at a very young age, stuck.
"I started calling him 'Shady' because he had this shady personality that would change on a moment's notice," Daphne said. "That big smile of his could just turn to a frown in a second.
"One year when he was playing baseball, the team he was on had a bunch of guys named Sean," Daphne said. "When the coach asked how he was going to tell all of these Seans apart, LeSean said everyone called him 'Shady.' He's been Shady ever since."
He has just one fear at the moment.
"Getting injured," he said. " I saw what happened to [former McDevitt running back] Jesse Pitt [in 2002], and I think about a lot."
What happened was this: Pitt, another fantastic talent, was having a great 2002 season and an even better game in McDevitt's classic battle with Central Dauphin, won 23-21 by CD with just six seconds left.
Pitt had carried just six times for 115 yards when he suffered a serious knee injury that ended his scholastic career. Ironically, that injury jump-started McCoy's career.
"I remember people yelling at me to get in there, to get ready," McCoy said. "And I remember saying to myself, 'I'm not ready.'"
He sputtered along the rest of his freshman year, but that experience prepped him for his explosive sophomore season when he gained 2,561 yards in just 10 games. A national publication named him sophomore of the year, and before long, the rest of the country was clued in to this Shady character from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania.
Inevitably, comparisons would arise, whether it was his running style, his looks, his demeanor.
It is the one thing that McCoy says he hates.
"I just hate being compared to people," said McCoy, who did allow that it was "cool" that he was drawing some comparisons to McDevitt grad and former NFL running back Ricky Watters.
"I can't take away what some of those other backs have done, but they had their own style, their own way of doing things," McCoy said. "I want people to be able to say I have my own style, too."
Guess what? People are saying that, too.
A DEEPER MEANING
It is called The Seven Project, and it's hard to believe that teenagers are the delivery system for its profound message.
Think of it: A group of teens talking to their peers about such weighty issues as depression, loneliness, relationships.
God.
Why would anyone that age listen to anyone else that age about such things?
But sometimes, the kids will listen to Zach Frazer.
"Because sometimes, people just need someone to talk to, someone who will understand where they're at," Frazer said. "It's not clinical. It's just about high school issues."
The Seven Project is sponsored by Frazer's church -- Christian Life Assembly on Lisburn Road -- and it takes teams of teens, including Frazer, to churches throughout southeastern Pennsylvania and New Jersey where they engage other teens in the difficulties of the day.
"If you can influence one person positively, it's worth it," Frazer said.
This line of speech elicits a nod of approval and understanding from Dave Frazer, who adds, "The whole idea is to get the person to ask for help, to not be afraid [to seek counsel]."
Interestingly, Zach Frazer has applied this to quarterbacking.
Despite the fact that 10 teammates are on the field, that thousands could be in the stands, Frazer said his vocation has elements of loneliness and stress in it.
"Stress? I've been through plenty of that," Frazer said. "And you can feel lonely when you don't perform up to your standard."
That's when Frazer turns to Lichtel, a former quarterback who has knack for keeping things in perspective, and assistant Chris Hakel, a Mechanicsburg alumnus who snared some NFL experience and has used that to keep Frazer in his game.
"Coach Hakel has taught me a lot," Frazer said. "He showed me that it's not just throwing to the guy who's open; you have to know who is open and how he got there."
That eventually leads to talk of a career in the NFL. "That's the dream; that's the ultimate goal," Frazer said.
That's a rather amazing consideration, since Frazer didn't begin to quarterback until the eighth grade. He played running back before that.
The transformation to quarterback has helped him to focus on not just want he wants to be (as noted, a quarterback), but the importance of having and maintaining a strong value base.
"People not being honest upsets me," Frazer said. "It's not just lying, either. It's people who keep saying they're going to do something, and they might do up to 90 percent of it, and then they quit.
"I don't understand that," he said. "You set a goal, you get it done.
"But you know what else I hate?" he said. "I hate that one bomber can influence a country. That just really bothers me. But I have to say I really like what our soldiers are trying to do to change that."
IT'S HIS JOB, TOO
Jared Odrick is huge. Not that he can do a whole lot about it.
Odrick's size put him in the forefront of the 2005-2006 recruiting game, especially for those looking for massive defensive linemen.
One would not think that being large is a handicap, but Odrick is stunned by the number of people who apparently think it is.
"One of the biggest thing I encounter is people who stereotype me because of my size," Odrick said. "The first comment I get from people is, 'You're huge.'"
And how does Odrick react to that?
"I just tell them I'm sorry," he said, smiling.
From any reasonable view, Odrick has nothing about which to be sorry. He is not just a good football player and a good student, he is polite and patient. The little folks among us appreciate those qualities among the huge.
He came by that politeness and patience the hard way.
Odrick has always been bigger than his contemporaries, and he said that just being big would get him trouble when he was little. Um, make that younger.
"It's true," Odrick said. "Just because I was big, people would assume that I was the one causing problems if something was going on, but it wasn't the case. It was something that I always had to fight."
That would be annoying, but it could have been worse had people stereotyped about his mixed-race background. But Odrick said that has never been an issue while growing up in Lebanon.
"I'm an example what it's like to be a mixed-race person," Odrick said. "I guess some people don't know how to react to that, but I can honestly tell you that it has not been a big issue in my life."
The discussion about race was prompted by his response to a dual question about the thing for which he had a deep passion -- sports, it turned out -- and the thing that he hated the most.
When Odrick answered "ignorance," the conversation shifted to race. But that's not the kind of ignorance that bothered Odrick.
"What drives me crazy is people not having an open mind, not allowing themselves to see the perspective of others," he said. "How can you ever learn if you're not willing to listen to what others have to say?"
That philosophy has helped him weed out schools attempting to recruit him for football. He said he wants to go where he feels comfortable and where he can enjoy playing football.
"That means a lot," Odrick said. "I have to be comfortable with my college, and they have to be satisfied with me.
"You know, the colleges are investing a lot of money in me to produce; that's one way I look at it," Odrick said. "I don't want to let them down, and I don't want to let myself down, either."
ROD FRISCO: 255-8122 or
[email protected]