More than a few good men

Sporting News, The, Nov 11, 1996 by Dave Kindred

Army is undefeated in eight games. Army! Navy has won five of seven. When they meet in Philadelphia on December 7, it will have been a generation, back to Roger Staubach's youth in 1963, since Army and Navy came to their annual game recognized as legitimate powers in college football. To which the proper response is another exclamation. Hallelujah!

The son of a soldier who grew up believing this country fought just wars, I'm a sportswriter who made a habit of going to Army-Navy football games. And not for the football. But for the players. They are dedicated, disciplined symbols of the people we ought to be. Warriors who believe.

If the teams came in 1-9, fine. Let the football factories feed the NFL. Let the folks with 100,000-seat stadiums go at each other's throats in recruiting competitions for illiterates.

Give me Army. Give me Navy. There we know that football, while important, is important in the way college football was meant to be important: as a game for students.

No one goes to Army or Navy to get ready for the NFL.

No one gets a fancy car.

No one cuts class.

At Army and Navy, we meet young men such as Jim Cantelupe and Andrew Thompson, defensive backs and captains on last season's teams.

You'd love them. The scouting report: average size, average speed, uncommon humanity.

I know them well. I know them because John Feinsten, who has written the best-selling sports books of all time, has made Cantelupe and Thompson the heart of his new book, A Civil War: Army vs. Navy. We share the captains' lives as Feinstein spends the 1995 season inside the academies doing the richly detailed reporting--his signature--which makes us a part of those places so hard, so unforgiving and so wonderful.

Here I should announce a further bias, this one a friendship with the author. For 15 years on various enterprises, Feinstein and I have been colleagues and friends. So there. And now I'm here to tell you Civil War is great stuff, inspiring even. It is joy, and it is heartache.

Here's a Jim Cantelupe story from A Civil War. There are six weeks of Army summer orientation known as "Beast Barracks," a gut-check time for men and women entering the U.S. Military Academy. The plebes are reminded of their lowly status by first classmen--seniors--who scream questions such as ...

"Klein. What kind of name is that?"

"Sir, it's German, sir," came Derek Klein's answer.

"O'Grady," a first classman screamed. "What kind of name is that?"

"Sir, Irish, sir."

And so it went early in Beast of 1991 until the first classman screamed at Cantelupe.

"Cantelupe. What kind of name is that?"

"Sir," Cantelupe said, bemused, "it's produce, sir."

About the same time at Navy, Andrew Thompson, polite and earnest, is engaged in an academic comeback unlike anything ever attempted at the football factories of this land. Here is Thompson's daily schedule for nine weeks ...

5 a.m.-7 a.m.--Wake up. Breakfast. Training run with Satan (Phil Emery, the strength and conditioning coach).

7 a.m.-8 a.m.--Prepare for chemistry class.

8 a.m.-noon--Chemistry class.

Noon-1 p.m.--Lunch. Get ready for calculus class.

1 p.m.-4 p.m.--Calculus.

4 p.m.-6 p.m.--Lift weights with Satan.

6:30 p.m.--Dinner.

7 p.m. to sleep--Study chemistry and calculus for tomorrow.

Haircut inspections. Guard duty. Marching. First class at Army: 7:15 a.m. First class at Navy: 7:55. Squeezing putty to stay awake in class. First classmen screaming: "Who is the current United States congressman from your squad leader's district?" Punishment for wrong answers, punishments for turning a hallway corner improperly, punishments for carrying a book bag off one shoulder.

Twelve days before last season's Army-Navy game, Jim Cantelupe and Andrew Thompson met at a press conference. "Each had understood immediately," Feinsten writes, "that the other was a soul mate. ... Neither had been recruited by any big-time football schools. Both simply loved the game, the competition, the camaraderie. Both had put up with the frustrations and vagaries of military academy life for four years for one reason: the chance to play big-time football."

If they couldn't play for Notre Dame, they'd play against Notre Dame. At Army or Navy for four years, they then would give five more years to the military. Having been told they weren't good enough for the bit time, these young men set out to prove otherwise. That decision alone is telling. How many of us at 18 make a nine-year commitment to prove we're who we think we are?

At Army and Navy, that commitment, already extraordinary, comes with uncommon obligations. Late last season, players talked about President Clinton's decision to send troops to Bosnia. Andrew Thompson, who had cared more about football than war, nevertheless knew his duty; he said the academy had made sure "we're ready to do this if we have to. We all know the deal. We're all prepared to do whatever has to be done."

Army beat Navy last season, 14-13. Won it with a 99 1/2-yard drive for a touchdown with 63 seconds to play. Beat Navy for the fourth straight time, the victories coming by a total of six points. After Army's raucous celebration, Jim Cantelupe, in his black and gold uniform, walked to the Navy locker room, a funereal place.