Doing the dirty work to make it big

A rookie safety waits for the kickoff. He is ready. He has spent five years competing in an overachieving, perennially-underrated defense, and he is ready for this: the Big Time. It is Saturday, August 16, 2008, and he is playing in the Georgia Dome, not Alumni Stadium. He is playing against a real team, and he is here to prove that he is the real thing, that he deserves to be one of the 53 Chosen Ones.

The ball sails through the air, and the safety tells himself, Go. He sprints downfield. Another player is in his way, so the safety nudges him aside.

Seconds later, he finds himself suspended in the air, then thrown down onto the turf, flat on his back, staring up at the lovely domed ceiling.

"That," Jamie Silva says, "was my welcome to the NFL moment."

Boston College truly fell in love with a ratty-haired, dumpster-diving, free-spirited defensive back in the fall of 2007. By then, Jamie Silva had been around for a while, but only when the Eagles debuted a second-ranked squad with a ravenous defense that would eventually finish in the top 25 in total yards allowed did he truly become somebody.

Under then-defensive coordinator Frank Spaziani, Silva established himself as the leader of a ferocious secondary. He was a ball hawk, an automatic pick-threat, stuffed into a meager 5-foot-11, 210-pound frame. He led the team with a school-record eight interceptions, averaging 18.4 yards per return. He also garnered a team-high 125 tackles - to put it in perspective, that's almost 30 more than Mark Herzlich tallied that year - and 80 of those were unassisted.

Silva may have been small, but he was fierce. And when he went undrafted in April 2008, he realized he would have to prove his worth the same way he did in Chestnut Hill.

"I knew [free agency] was going to be the route I'd have to go," Silva says. "When I got to BC, the boosters and stuff didn't know, or care, who I was. They only cared about the four or five-star guys, and I was the lowest recruit." He pauses. "Whatever. I didn't care. I knew I'd just have to show them on the field. If I get the opportunity to get out on the field and earn my time, I feel like I can stay."

Silva's opportunity came in Indianapolis, shortly after the draft. His right to suit up with Peyton Manning and Dwight Freeney, however, was far from guaranteed.

Despite his rude awakening to the NFL in the Colts' preseason match-up against Altanta, Silva impressed Tony Dungy & Co. enough to make the original 53-man active roster. But then, just one week later, Dungy called him into his office for a chat.

"He said they needed another linebacker and another defensive tackle," Silva says, "so they were demoting me to the practice squad."

The practice squad. No-man's land for NFL hopefuls. The NFL isn't Major League Baseball; the practice squad isn't Triple-A. Guys don't wait around for an inevitable call-up to The Show. Sometimes - most times - the call never comes.

"Obviously, that sucked," Silva says. "It was kind of a letdown, and it was a rollercoaster of emotions."

Then, two games into the season, the Colts' second-round pick of the 2004 draft sprained his ankle. Bob Sanders would miss the next four to six weeks, and suddenly, Dungy needed a new safety to back up Melvin Bullitt.

Silva got the call. He became a Colt.

The Colts are no Oakland Raiders. The Colts are a team that competes. They are a team that has to fight for a Wild Card playoff spot when they finish the regular season 12-4 - the NFL's second-best record in 2008 - because their division is that tough.

But Silva was well-equipped; after all, the NFL cliches aren't much different from the NCAA cliches. Adversity builds character. Challenges make you stronger. Play for the 'W' or go home now.

"I feel like everybody is there for one reason, and that's to try to win the Super Bowl," Silva says. "Our coaches will criticize and correct everyone, whether it's Peyton [Manning] or me. Everyone is there for one common goal."

Silva's first year in the League, put simply, was no easy ride. Not when he was calling Manning and Freeney his teammates.

"I went and asked them for their autographs [when I first met them]," Silva jokes.

The expectations are the same for every team in the league, regardless of who is taking the snaps, regardless of who is calling the plays, regardless of how many rookies or how many grizzled veterans make up the two-deep. The NFL lessons are the same as the NCAA lessons: Any team can lose on any given Saturday. Or Sunday.

"It's still the NFL," Silva says. "We played the [0-16] Lions and almost lost, and we beat the Steelers, who won the Super Bowl. The difference in talent between the top team and the last time in the league is so minimal, it's ridiculous."

Some teams just have it, and some teams don't. Some teams have great leadership - great coaches - which translates into wins. The Colts are one of those teams - or they were, before Dungy hung up the headset at the end of 2008.

"I was really fortunate to be able to call him my coach," Silva says. "He's a great guy. The way you see him is the way he really is."

For some teams, good quarterbacks are enough. Silva is one of a rare breed who has played on two of those squads.

"I think it's funny, seeing [Matt Ryan] on commercials all the time and being the face of things now," Silva says. "But I'm not surprised. Not at all. I knew he was something really special right away. But I do think it's funny. It makes me chuckle."

Of course, this begs the question: Who's better, Manning or Ryan?

"That's one question too many," Silva says. "Are you trying to get me fired?"

Three-hundred-and-sixty-five days later, not much has changed for the safety.

"I'm getting to play football right now," he says. "I'm still the same person I was last year."

One year later - post-BC, post-Tony Dungy, post-rookie year - Jamie Silva is the same guy he was when he left Chestnut Hill. Well … almost.

"I haven't jumped into any dumpsters recently," he says, "but I did get a metal detector. I'll still be out treasure-hunting. No doubt."