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Annapolis, Md. — In a class called Politics of Irregular Warfare, 21 Navy Midshipmen discuss how social media platforms like Facebook are used to mine clues and target terrorist cells and insurgents in conflict zones.

Over 45 minutes, they unpeel a laundry list of hot spots that include the Islamist militant group Hezbollah, Somali pirates and North Korea. Navy linebacker Travis Kerchner of Ramona explained potential lessons culled from the former USSR leveraging third-world nations.

Along hallway walls lined with an alphabet-soup list of projects unfolding inside, there’s Magnetotransport Properties of Shallow Quantum Well Structures for Spintronic Applications, Stability of Nonlinear Swarms on Flat and Curved Surfaces and Evaluation of Non-Oxide Fuel for Fission-Based Nuclear Reactors on Spacecraft.

At the U.S. Naval Academy, approximately 7 percent of those who apply are accepted — an issions brick wall similar to Yale. The unforgiving academic buzzsaw that awaits the 4,400 men and women hustling from corner to corner of the campus nestled along the Chesapeake Bay simply represents the beginning.

Fold in the rigors of the exhausting, regimented life of military training, and for those who play football like Kerchner, the demands for the sleep-deprived group become dizzying.

“There are only so many hours in the day,” said freshman defensive lineman Nick Dell’Acqua, who played at Mater Dei High School in Chula Vista. “It’s sheer mental will.”

So when Navy trips up iconic blue blood Notre Dame, which it’s done just 13 times during the 91 games in the series, it constitutes the equivalent of a college football miracle. To win four times since 2007, after losing every game dating back to 1964, bewilders.

Programs from the farthest ends of the Division I spectrum — Notre Dame’s contract with NBC running through 2025 reportedly is worth $15 million annually — will meet Oct. 27 at SDCCU Stadium in front of an expected sellout of more than 65,000.

At Notre Dame, the history drips … from Knute Rockne and The Four Horsemen to Rudy and Touchdown Jesus. At Navy, cell phone alarms roust Midshipmen all across Nimitz Library in a new-age tribute to the most treasured commodity on campus: REM sleep.

“You better manage your time, or you’re not going to survive here,” said Navy coach Ken Niumatalolo. “You better be a disciplined person, or you’re not going to survive here. This place spits you out if you’re not.

“I’m not sure how these guys do it, to be honest.”

Tradition dominates

The differences with college football at service academies reveal themselves in both subtle and far-from-subtle ways. As coaches bark out drills, mini destroyers known as yard patrol boats drift by.

When sunset arrives, a practice suddenly can screech to a halt.

“When ‘Taps’ is played, you hear the bugle and the next thing you know you see guys turn and take their helmet off and come to attention,” Niumatalolo said. “You don’t see that too many places.”

Starting offensive guard Chris Gesell of St. Augustine High snapped to his feet with classmates as the class Applications of Cyber Engineering sprang to life. The military nod provided the sole distinction from other campuses that explore the numbing world of sleuthing and untangling IP addresses.

Three days earlier, the 290-pound lineman picked up the key block for Nelson Smith’s career-long burst of 45 yards against Temple. A few plays later, Gesell plowed a path for the running back’s 12-yard touchdown in a 24-17 loss.

Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium serves, for those serving, as a museum disguised as a football venue. Plaques ringing the facility dish up weather-worn history stretching from the Civil War battle of the Monitor and Merrimack to Cold War submarine operations. The stadium façade pays tribute to Pearl Harbor, Midway, Guadalcanal and other military mileposts dating back to the foundation of the Navy and Marine Corps in 1775.

Tradition dominates in a place like this, where a game-day tailgate offers up more U.S. flags than a NASCAR race. Gesell’s father enlisted in the Navy to work on submarines, traveling from Europe and the Mediterranean to Thailand and Singapore.

“One time, he tracked down some Russian subs in places they weren’t supposed to be,” said Gesell, when asked for anecdotes from his father’s service. “That’s probably about all he can say about that.”

During a meeting of the offensive line group, assistant coach Ashley Ingram began the uncomfortable discussion about the wrecking ball known as Houston nose guard Ed Oliver. The 2017 Outland Trophy winner had just set a conference record with five tackles for loss — including two sacks and a forced fumble for a touchdown — while anchoring a defense that allowed just 41 rushing yards while dismantling East Carolina.

You wonder which poses the steeper uphill proposition for Gesell: Oliver or wading through the seemingly infinite combinations of IP addresses?

There were times, Gesell acknowledged, that the grind and injuries caused him to consider walking away.

“My head was spinning when I got here,” said Gesell, who helped St. Augustine win a CIF championship in 2014 over Madison. “People are yelling in your face, they’re shaving your head. Most guys playing football were the top player or two on their teams in high school, but now you’re back at the bottom. Then you have chemistry and physics and calculus. They throw you into the fire.

“It’s a full day every day. We don’t really get a break. But you understand what you signed up for.”

And what they signed up for, every year since 1927, is Notre Dame.

Roster full of Supermen

The game-day program hints at unique space Navy and the other service academies occupy. Ads include one for “5-D Systems,” which promises to provide solutions and systems “with a continuous focus on the warfighter’s needs.” Another, for “Fire Containment Concepts,” shows a plane and asks, “What’s your plan at 26,000 feet.”

It’s a difficult place to produce true football stars, where the most lasting — players like Heisman Trophy quarterback Roger Staubach, running back Napoleon McCallum and receiver Phil McConkey — can be counted on one hand.

On-field success is squeezed as efficiently as possible from the limited resources available. Navy finds ways to beat a team like the Irish with the precision of a metronome and a framework built from unbending military training.

Unlike other Division I programs, a school like Navy must maximize short meetings and short practices.

“It forces us to be really efficient and really organized,” said inside linebackers and special teams coach Steve Johns, who grew up in San Diego and coached at USD and Grossmont College. “I think it makes us be simple, which helps us play faster. We don’t have time for all these exotic, elaborate things.”

Coaches joke about the NCAA’s rule that limits mandatory football activities to 20 hours a week.

At Navy, they don’t come close.

“A lot of colleges, it’s about staying eligible,” said Niumatalolo, the head coach. “Here, you do what everyone else is doing. If you’re playing Notre Dame on Saturday and you’ve got a paper due on Thursday, you turn the paper in.

“There’s none of this teacher’s assistant writing a paper for you. That’s not happening. Not here.”

The relentlessness of it all staggers.

“Sometimes, I see them running to get changed after practice and it’s like Superman,” Niumatalolo said. “They come out and it’s like, geez, how did they change that quick? I when I played and I’d get my ankles taped or whatever and chill out a little bit. There’s no time to chill out here. You’re always on the move.

“Our guys are so used to it, they don’t complain. They just run over here, run over there. Whatever it takes.”

That whatever-it-takes allows Navy to compete. For each unique challenge, there’s unique and beneficial training. For each uncommon obstacle, there’s an equally singular tool box at each player’s disposal.

Athletic Director Chet Gladchuk offered an explanation.

“Everyone comes right in the front door like everybody else,” he said. “You have to have the SAT scores, the same core classes, they go through the same curriculum as every other Midshipman. There’s no sidebar measures. There’s nowhere to tuck anyone.

“They may not be the biggest and the strongest and the fastest, but there’s no greater heart, no greater determination, no greater will to win.”

Since law requires the Navy to deliver a four-year program, rather than college careers that can last longer in other places, Gladchuk said the academy owned the highest four-year graduation rate in the country — 88 percent at the most recent count.

Athletes on campus graduate at an even higher rate: 92 percent.

“Our objective is to produce leaders of the highest order,” he said.

Johns, the assistant coach whose father owned a boat yard on Shelter Island, said another dynamic distinguishes the roster as well.

“I think there’s something unique about a kid who agrees to serve his country in what are perilous times,” he said. “We’re still involved in many theaters and kids are still willing to do that. That’s pretty special.”

Another shot at the Irish

So, the grind continues. Through Temple and Houston and soon, Notre Dame.

Freshman fullback Sam Dixon, who played at Mission Hills High in San Marcos, said the journey tests as much as it trains.

“Out of the gates, it’s definitely overwhelming,” he said. “You have to be comfortable not having time for anything. The first couple of days, it’s soul searching. You have to think, is this really what I want to do? After a couple days, I calmed down a little bit.”

That mental stress and strain causes Midshipmen to toss pennies at the campus statue of Tecumseh, a revered Native American warrior. Left-handed salutes also are offered in tribute for luck as tests and games approach. That led to the nickname, “God of the 2.0,” in reference to the minimum grade-point average required to remain in the program.

Tyler Rogers, a freshman defensive back from San Marcos, recorded a tackle and two breakups against Lehigh. He played on punt and punt-return teams versus SMU.

There’s a chance he could be selected to make the trip to San Diego. Perhaps a meeting with Tecumseh would help?

“I think everyone’s dream when they’re little is to play big-time football in front of a lot of fans,” he said. “Notre Dame is one of those times when you get an opportunity like that. It would mean a lot to play.”

That instinct created two levels of pain for Kerchner, who blew out the ACL in his right knee against SMU. The senior linebacker raced down on punt coverage, then felt his knee pop as he shed a block.

When Kerchner took a step, he buckled.

“I just made the decision in my head, I didn’t want to lay on the field and scare my parents, who were watching the game (on TV),” he said. “I said, if this is my last time on the field, I’m going to run off. I got about three yards from the sideline and fell and the trainers caught me.”

That hardly lessens the feelings related to a Notre Dame-sized opportunity.

The Midshipmen have struggled, sitting below .500. The No. 4 Irish, meanwhile, used the start of their season to make a bid for the College Football Playoffs.

“We take pride in being smaller, less recruited,” Kerchner said. “At Notre Dame they have guys going to the NFL who had all these offers out of high school. We’re playing for a lot in that game.”

Sound like a tall order?

These guys are used to that sort of thing.

Army, Air Force pranks

At the U.S. Naval Academy, rules and regulations abound. Then come the weeks when the football team plays Army or Air Force.

The singular advice, in military parlance: Watch your 6.

Pranks reign during the weeks the service academies square off. Replicas of tomahawk missiles mysteriously show up in lobbies. Full-sized boats end up in the engineering building. Stairwells fill with mouse traps. Upperclassmen discover shampoo bottles filled with syrup or ranch dressing.

“My roommate and I came home on the first day of Air Force week and his bed was missing,” said Tyler Rogers, a freshman defense back from San Marcos. “I happened to look up and there it was, in the ceiling.”

The key difference of academy weeks is that newcomers are allowed to prank those who are older.

In the rigid world of orders and superiors and protocols, it’s a pure-gold opportunity.

“They pour pitchers on the heads of upper classmen (in the mess hall),” said Travis Kerchner, a senior linebacker from Ramona. “They put whatever they can in there. Condiments, whatever. It’s gross. It looks like something that came out of the sewer.

“I saw one room where they moved a vending machine to block the door when they opened it.”

For a campus of 4,400 of the most stressed students in the country, it’s a treasured relief valve.

For the newly entered Midshipmen, known as plebes, the pranks go both ways. This year, some made makeshift “Air Force” doormats using nothing but condiments.

“One day, the training staff took our company to another floor,” said Nick Dell’Acqua, a freshman defensive lineman who played at Mater Dei High in Chula Vista. “They ‘tornadoed’ our rooms. Our clothes were hanging from the ceiling and our beds were in the hallway.”

Wait until the week of the Army game.

  • Bryce Miller

Navy nuggets

Hardwick’s Navy following: Midshipmen who want to be pilots, as is the plan for St. Augustine High alum Chris Gesell, must revert to massive weight loss. Gesell, a guard who weighs 290 pounds, has from the end of the season until next spring’s graduation to lose 60 pounds to hit 230, the maximum weight for pilots.

“Me and a couple other linemen follow (former Chargers All-Pro center Nick Hardwick) on Instagram to check out his diet and workouts,” Gesell said.

‘I Believe’: The Navy game-day football program contends that the “I Believe” chant that’s popular at colleges, including San Diego State, traces its roots to the Naval Academy.

As the story goes, a future Midshipman at the Naval Academy Preparatory School tasked with developing a chant for his platoon hatched the idea in 1998.

Aztecs iration: Navy coach Ken Niumatalolo, unprompted, offered up thoughts on San Diego State coach Rocky Long. The coaches have squared off in the Poinsettia Bowl.

“He does as good a job as anybody in the country and nobody talks about it,” Niumatalolo said. “When they talk Mountain West, most people think of Boise State. But Rocky’s kind of taken it to another level.”

The Aztecs remain on pace for the fourth consecutive season with at least 10 victories.

“Their guys aren’t the size of Pac-12 kids or whatever, but they beat a lot of those teams,” he said. “I have a tremendous amount of respect for Rocky. I don’t think they get the credit they’re due.”

  • Bryce Miller

[email protected]; Twitter: @Bryce_A_Miller

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