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Rashawn King: Navy's Renaissance Man

Rashawn King breaks up the final pass against Pittsburgh

Rashawn King breaks up the final pass against Pittsburgh

Oct. 10, 2008

By Bob Socci

Make no mistake, the position demands that your memory stays behind when you break the huddle.

It's neither time nor place for reliving what just happened. Or recreating what didn't.

The most important play, the next play, is about to unfold. And, by virtue of your skills and nature of your role, that guy standing across the line likely represents your opponent's most dangerous threat.

Get distracted by the past, and the future will run right past you.

Until it reaches the end zone. And you're left alone, naked to the masses, stranded on that football island known as cornerback.

"You can't dwell on the past," says one who knows first hand, Rashawn King, who's lived on that island in the Navy secondary the last four years, "whether you make a good play or bad play."

"You have to have a short-term memory," cautions Joe Speed, the coach who more than a decade ago occupied that same defensive backfield for the Midshipmen, only as a safety in support of the corners. "You've got to be able to take one play at a time."

"There are a lot of intangibles to playing the corner," adds Buddy Green, King's primary coach and Speed's boss as Navy's defensive coordinator.

Green's talking not so much about a physical skill set - the strength to jam a receiver at the line of scrimmage, the swivel in one's hips to switch the body from reverse to drive in a split-second or the raw speed to keep pace on deep pass plays.

More to his point is one's mindset. Are you able, after getting beat on one play - and you will get beat - to bounce back for the next?

"It's like a shortstop in baseball who commits an error," says Green, who's allowed the two-sport analogy as a two-sport standout during his own collegiate days at North Carolina State. "You want the ball hit to you the next time."

 

 

It means welcoming any challenge with an unshakable confidence. Because your opponent won't take pity and, as the saying goes, won't take prisoners.

"You try not to keep getting beat," says a matter-of-fact King, whose pride is repeatedly tested at his position on the field. "They'll keep coming at you."

Just as Navy's next opponent did a year ago.

On a Wednesday night in Pittsburgh last October, King never felt the chill rain so much as on a series late in the second quarter, with the Mids trying to protect a seven-point lead.

Oderick Turner had already caught two passes on the possession, covering a combined 41 of the 73 yards the Panthers had driven to reach Navy's five-yard line.

Pitt then split Turner to the left, isolating the 6-foot King on a receiver three inches taller and setting up a throw that was coming his way. As quarterback Pat Bostick took the snap, King tried to delay Turner at the line, only to lag behind a route to the back corner of the end zone.

Bostick then lofted a perfect pass over the outstretched arms of a twisting King and into the waiting hands of Turner for a touchdown that led to a halftime tie.

But well educated in the principles of Cornerback 101, King didn't sulk over what just took place. Nor did he shutter at the possibility of it happening again.

King knew full well there'd be an opportunity for redemption. As he said, they'll keep coming at you.

Sure enough, the Panthers went at him with less than a half-minute to go in the third quarter, when Bostick again took aim for Turner, deep along the right sideline. This time, King was in position to pick off the pass.

It was his first career interception. But, by no means, was it his last big play of the evening.

That would be on the game's final snap, in the second overtime of a marathon that nearly stretched into the following morning.

Four minutes before the stroke of midnight, Pitt faced fourth down at the Mids' two-yard line, trailing by a 48-45 score. Navy had just emerged from a timeout, when King took note of the Panthers' alignment.

"I think everybody in the stadium, including the coaches, thought they were going to run it," he recently recalled, making the rare exception of remembering a moment from this cornerback's past. "They switched receivers. I thought, 'Hey, why did you change?'"

Delivering his defensive signals, Green immediately recognized the 6-foot-5, 265-pound Darrell Strong opposite Turner in the Panthers' formation. While the latter lined up left, Strong set up right.

Standing inside the near boundary, he was matched up with King.

Quickly dropping back, Bostick turned to Strong and - with the same type of toss that victimized King much earlier on the other side of the end zone - let the football go.

"Pittsburgh put its best receiver with great height into the boundary," said Green. "They ran the fade to a guy much bigger (than Rashawn) and he came up with a huge play."

It was a game saver, deflecting the pass on which both a win and a loss were riding. When the ball fell to the turf incomplete, victory belonged to the Mids.

"They had scored on a similar play earlier," said King, not wanting to make more out of his play than any other, by any other. "This time I happened to be in the right spot."

Unlike the player who won't indulge in self congratulation, Green is quick to credit King for that and many other critical contributions the last four seasons.

"I can pick a lot of games the last three or four years, big games we've won, that Rashawn's been a big part of," says Green, who first started King as a freshman "nickel back" in 2005, while employing a fifth defender in the secondary against Air Force.

What makes Green appreciate King even more are the circumstances surrounding so many of his best performances. Usually with his teeth clenched, concealing whatever agony he's experienced from a series of shoulder injuries.

"I'll be the first to tell you he's played in pain," Green says admiringly.

"(Rashawn's) definitely a battler, willing to sacrifice his body for the team," said Speed. "It shows time and again."

If there's a single moment defining King's playing career, it isn't necessarily his last-gasp denial at Pittsburgh. More likely, it's what he did the previous October in Colorado Springs.

King had already separated his right shoulder that Saturday, before returning to the fray as Air Force tried to rally from a 24-17 deficit.

On fourth down, in need of six yards to sustain Falcon hopes, quarterback Shaun Carney fielded the snap from Navy's 46-yard line.

"You know this is a key play for the game," King says of his thinking in that situation. "This is your chance to get off the field.

"I could see that (Carney) was trying to scramble. I just happened to be in the right spot, thanks to the coaches."

Yes, the coaches had put King in position to succeed. But they had nothing to do with his dive, precisely in the path of Carney's throw without making contact with intended receiver Victor Thompson.

Perfectly executing the kind of play that often results in an interference penalty, King relied strictly on his athletic ability and instinct. Not without consequence.

"My shoulder popped out (again) on that play," said King, who proceeded to the sideline to have his shoulder reset by medical personnel and watch his offensive teammates run out the clock.

"There was still a lot of time left in the game," he says. "I ran off the field and couldn't celebrate, because we had to be ready to go back out there. Coach (Green) comes over and says, 'Are you ready to go?'"

Fortunately, there was no need the rest of that day. Unfortunately, there was no way King could go the following Saturday.

He sat out the next contest vs. Rutgers, missing the first of a handful of games as a sophomore and junior. After each season, King underwent shoulder surgery and didn't participate in the ensuing spring practice.

Nonetheless, he remains a reliable defender and dependable leader - less through his words than what matters most.

"He's a young man of character," says Speed, who rose to Captain in the Marine Corps after his graduation from the Naval Academy in 1996. "Rashawn is kind of quiet, but leads by example."

"He's a leader with the way he plays," adds the echoing Green.

Though not necessarily silent, now that King is a senior.

"Yes, he's been more (vocal)," Speed said, noting that King frequently pulls teammates aside following in-game adjustments by coaches, adding his own insights along the sideline. "That comes with confidence."

Perhaps it's also an offshoot of the time King devoted this past summer as a plebe detailer.

Three years removed from his own indoctrination, he rose daily by 5 a.m. to invest 18-hour days molding the newest of midshipmen. Ahead of schedule toward graduation and fresh off a three-week tour of Camp Lejeune, King guided a squad of 11 plebes through their first chopping steps in Annapolis.

And while they were taught the proper way to march, salute and eat a square meal - necessities for the next four years on 'The Yard' - he learned lessons that should prove invaluable in life beyond the Academy.

"I wanted to do something that would help develop my leadership skills," King says. "I knew that in less than a year I'd be in a real leadership position.

"There was a learning curve in a lot of areas. It was very challenging and very tiring. I'd be awake before the plebes and would have to come with energy every day. It was a good experience. It gave me an idea of what I'll face in the future."

A future King intends to experience as a Marine.

"I would love to welcome him into the Marine Corps," Speed says. "I know he has all the attributes, including the stamina and will power."

There's also precedence.

If not from family ties, then thanks to King's high school connections.

His father, Drexel, is an Army man. A major who left the service when Rashawn was 10 years old, his military service was certainly reflected by the way the elder King raised his family.

"The foundation and principles were there," Rashawn says of his dad. "You can see it in his personality, and you can definitely see it in his organization. He definitely had discipline."

Though his father wasn't pushing him toward the military, the younger King was being pulled in that direction.

"I think everybody should give back to the country," he says.

Initially, King figured to give back in his father's branch, applying on his own to West Point.

"Football wasn't in the picture yet," says King, whose younger sister, Shaday, is a freshman volleyball player at the University of North Carolina-Central. "My dad handed me a (West Point) brochure and I thought it would be cool."

Meantime, a funnel of talent was forming from King's high school in Raleigh, N.C. to Annapolis.

Navy's Green, who both played and coached in Raleigh - including two stints as an assistant at N.C. State - was a frequent visitor to the Ravenscroft School.

Among the Ravenscroft graduates who'd already attended the Naval Academy were Brad Wimsatt, a defensive captain for the Mids in 2000, and Ryan Barry, who began his collegiate career in 2001.

While Green was recruiting Wimsatt's younger brother, another Raven caught his eye.

"Matt Wimsatt is the only reason I'm here," King said recently. "While watching film, (Coach Green) spotted me."

On tape, in person, there was a lot to like.

"(Rashawn) had a very outstanding high school career," Green says. "He was very mature about the goals that he wanted to achieve after graduation."

Eventually, Green would coach both Ravenscroft teammates.

Wimsatt, a regular for the Mids the last two seasons at linebacker, graduated last spring and is now a Lieutenant in the Marine Corps, taking the same path King hopes to follow.

King, ignored by Army as a football player until he showed up on Navy' radar, resisted 11th-hour overtures from the Black Knights to join the Midshipmen.

Just not right away. First, he thought it best to attend the Naval Academy Prep School. Not out of necessity, but as a matter of choice.

"Rashawn had an option to either come directly (to Annapolis) or go to N.A.P.S.," Green recalled. "He and his family talked about it and he decided that he wanted to prepare himself better."

"To see if this was the place for me," King says of his decision to detour. "It gave me a really good idea of what military life would be like. It was an easy adjustment (at the Academy)."

That same year King prepped in Newport, R.I., Speed was transitioning between his military and coaching careers as the N.A.P.S. athletic director.

"The main thing about the prep school is it's a chance to put your toe in the water, learning the fundamental tools you're going to need at the Academy," Speed says. "(Rashawn) handled academics well and developed as a player, getting better physically and mentally. He came down (to Annapolis) and succeeded (right away)."

In their coinciding years in Newport and at the Naval Academy, Speed has marveled at King's maturation as someone who's sharpened his football skills while rounding the edges of his personality.

"I can't say enough good things about Rashawn," Speed says. "He's a renaissance man."

"I guess it seems to fit," says a flattered King, who'd like most to be recognized as, in his words, a humble servant. "I do like to broaden my horizons and culture.

"You try to get as much knowledge as you can and pass it on to others."

His most recent cultural experiences have featured a country theme - in music and in the kitchen.

He's developed an ear for Johnny Cash, thanks to former teammate Adam Ballard, an aspiring country and western songwriter. And this past summer, he began exploring culinary art.

Between his apprenticeship around Marines at Lejeune, and ordering plebes around Annapolis, King squeezed in a few weeks of cooking classes at The Angus Barn, a renowned restaurant back home in North Carolina.

At one of the highest-rated steakhouses in America, King says he learned "what it takes to run a restaurant." More important, he got an up-close look at and taste of the Barn's famous pies.

He's even tested out his own version of pecan pie. Apparently, his is still a work in progress. Especially when measured against his mother Robbin's homemade macaroni or candied yams. Or his grandmother Irma Sledge's sweet potato pie that he concedes is "numero uno."

"I went in to our kitchen at home and tried (cooking) everything," King says with a laugh. "I've got a lot of work to do, according to my mom."

So he may not be an Iron Chef, just yet. But that doesn't mean King can't master the art of cooking.

It's a lot like playing cornerback in college football. Each week someone comes into your kitchen and the heat gets turned up. You might even get burned.

Just concern yourself with the future and don't get consumed by the past.

It's a recipe for success.

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