Hang around athletes enough, and they'll always say it: "You're just a sportswriter. You've never strapped on the pads and gone into a game with your butt in the driver's seat."

I disagree.

While researching an upcoming feature on Indiana QB/WR/KR/PR/Heisman candidate Antwaan Randle El, I found it necessary to "strap on the pads" (okay, I just took my sweater vest off) and run some routes with the subject. I wanted this question answered: "Antwaan has played so well with almost no supporting cast; how good could he be if he lined up with another top athlete?"

You laugh. In fact, when I was a wide receiver for Service High (Anchorage, Alaska) in 1995, I regularly punished cornerbacks. (So what I if was called for clipping every time?)

Yeah, so I'm no Alan Grant when it comes to football skills. But I wanted to play some catch and see what Antwaan's all about. So I lined up in a formation I call L Scat 19 Power 7 Post. For all of you not down with the playbook, this means, "Seth, it's only you and Antwaan out there. Run whatever you want." So I ran a post. I made my break, turned for the ball, and Antwaan zipped it to me. Completion, no less.

Next, I ran a post-corner. Two-for-two.

I decided this was too easy. "Gimme a bullet," I yelled to Antwaan. He said something in mouthpiece-speak that I couldn't decipher. I ran a 15-yard square in. The ball came humming to me. It had no arc; if anything it rose.

Then dipped. Off the fingertips.

"Nice catch, Seth," IU coach Cam Cameron yelled.

Next, I decided to see what Antwaan was like as a receiver, since that's what he's going to play this season. (Really, I was gassed.) He lined up and ran a post. I dropped back and fired a perfect 25-yard post. Only problem was that Antwaan was running at 35 yards, like I told him to. I threw him a second post -- complete.

My career NCAA stat line: 1-2 passing; 2 receptions, 50 yards.

Even though we only played for a few moments, I felt the knee twinge and the hamstring flare as I walked to the car. Thank god I don't do that for a living, I thought.

There was a bag of Chee-tos in the front seat. I stuffed a handful in my face and drove off, with my butt squarely in the driver's seat.