Aztecs’ Leomiti Plays Hard, and Soft

You’ve probably seen that television commercial for San Diego State football. A thud here, a grunt there, the roar of a crowd. And piano music, the most gently delicate piano music.

The last image on the screen is Carlson Leomiti, criminal justice major and offensive guard, dressed like he is playing Carnegie Hall rather than Wyoming.

Leomiti is playing the piano.

You see Leomiti, a 21-year-old junior from Carson, come off the practice field and you wonder if it’s the same guy you saw on the commercial. He is disheveled, stained with grass and sweaty. With his long, thick hair knotted on top of his head, he looks the part of an 18th-century warrior.

However, none of that is what catches your eye when you see Carlson.

It’s his size.

The program says he stands 6-3 and weighs 340. Which leg? The coaches made him sit out spring drills until he lost some weight. He was well over 400 at the time. What he lost, essentially, was a person to get down to 340. They probably didn’t realize he was used to being told he was too big. He never was allowed to play Pop Warner football.

When linebackers see him coming, they must wonder what happened to the warning lights, the crossing gate and the whistle. He should at least have a bumper and headlights. Maybe a tape deck.

Carlson--he pronounces it Carson, without the L, and you better too--is deceivingly quick for his size. Defensive tackles don’t have to worry about moving the mountain, because he’ll come to them . . . faster than they imagine possible. He does this on feet that wear shoes the size of barges.

When I sat next to Carlson in the dining room at the Aztec Athletic Center, it reminded me of the time I interviewed Andre the Giant. The difference was that Andre was a caricature and Leomiti was a character.

Folks must marvel, I suggested, when they come across and man such as this playing such tender music on a piano.

“You can’t judge a book by the cover,” Leomiti said. “You have to know what’s inside.”

I marveled at the mere size of his hands. They looked like they could palm a bowling ball. You find out this guy is musically inclined and you assume he blasts a tuba or booms a drum.

No, you’re told, he is a pianist.

Yeah, you say, and I suppose someday we’ll have a president named Willie.

In truth, Leomiti has been playing the piano longer than he has been playing football.

“I started classes in junior high school,” he said. “I got tired of it at first. It was like I was cooped up in a little room with padded walls.”

Music hooked him, however. He plays guitar and ukulele as well. Those fingers may look like Polish sausages, but a surgeon could not be any more delicate than Leomiti with an instrument in his hands and a song in his heart.

“I just play to unwind,” he said. “Other people have their ways to unwind and this is my way.”

After the Aztecs’ harrowing 45-38 victory at Brigham Young earlier this year, there was considerable laughter and chatter and high-fiving in the lobby of the team’s Provo hotel. There was also the soft sound of music. Leomiti had found a piano in the corner of the lobby. He would have been off by himself, and probably was in a figurative sense, except for the crowd that had quietly gathered around him.

“Football’s a rough sport,” he said. “It’s nice to change to something delicate. Sometimes I stop in this big ol’ auditorium between my classes and football practice just to relax before I do what I do here.”

What he does on a football field is totally the opposite of what he does on a piano.

“I like mellow music,” he said. “I’m an oldies but goodies man. That and Samoan music. I like my cultural music. I like to hear the words and what they say.”

This is from a man whose generation may have spawned the most uncivilized music in the history of civilization.

Rap, bang. Crash.

To Leomiti, that’s what you do on the football field . . . not to music.

He came to San Diego State as a nose guard with a reputation for stopping up the middle of the offensive thrust. In truth, he could just as easily stopped up the Harbor Freeway.

However, the Aztec coaches saw potential for using this guy to clear out the middle of the defensive line. He was reticent at first, but Al Luginbill convinced him it was best for the team and that was good enough for Leomiti.

“I like offensive guard now,” he said. “I like to pull. I like to start out on the left side and end up on the right side on top of somebody. And I’m getting the hang of pass blocking, just slamming somebody on his back.”

This was the kind of tough talk I was expecting all along. This was what I anticipated from this 340-pound bruiser. This was the gruff and growl I thought I would hear.

However, by now, it was too late to fool me. He could huff and pull all he wanted. All I was hearing was beautiful music.