Trojans Zero In

A USC kid turned the end zone grass into a cardinal-red trampoline, soaring through the steamy night, catching a jump ball, raising a roar.

No, it wasn’t him.

A USC kid caught a screen pass and hurtled down the sideline as if he was chasing January, running from Oklahoma, bound for Miami.

Nope, not him.

Number One played its first home game without Number One on Saturday, and you want to know something strange?

They didn’t miss Mike Williams.

Now, you want to know something scary?

They may eventually be a better team without Mike Williams.

Lacking Number One, they all played like Number Ones, which was maybe the point of a banner-raising, hammer-dropping, 49-0 victory over Colorado State at the Coliseum.

“We bit off a little more than we could chew,” said Sonny Lubick, the Rams’ coach, sighing, wiping off the sweat of a 90-degree beating. “A demolishing, really, is what it was.”

Last season, what opponents attempted to chew was mostly receiver Williams, the most unstoppable player in the college game.

But he went to the NFL. Then, he couldn’t. Then, he tried to return to school amid the sort of distraction that Pete Carroll has avoided more adeptly than hair loss.

Forty-eight hours before the season opener, even as a seat was being saved for him on the team plane, Williams was finally declared ineligible.

The worst thing that happened to USC that day.

The best thing to happen to them this season?

Without a player whose heart was already in the pros -- and whose spring criticism of teammates is still somewhere in the corner -- the Trojans have been forced to become a college fraternity again, eager to please, surprises in every room.

“We keep the defenses on their toes,” said LenDale White. “We have so many weapons. You don’t know who we’re going to hit next.”

Remember LenDale White? He averaged nearly nine yards a carry Saturday and battered Rams for three touchdowns.

Remember the Trojan running game? Their 322 ground yards was the most by a Trojan team in 14 years.

“Playing football here is a blast,” said fullback David Kirtman. “You never know who’s going to get it or where’s it going to go.”

A month ago, this team had one clear and shining star.

Today, even with the leading Heisman Trophy candidate playing quarterback, it acts as if it has none.

You know what were Matt Leinart’s most impressive moments Saturday? The ones where his All-American face was planted in the grass, blocking on one running play and dashing for 61 yards on seven others.

Said Lubick: “We didn’t think he could run like that.”

Said Leinart: “I wasn’t planning on it either. I’ve never run this much in my entire life. I ran for three hours.”

He paused.

“But you’ve got to sell out here.”

So goes the theme of a team that is a decent number one right now but could eventually be a great number one.

“When you think of all the guys we lost, how many teams can lose that many?” said Norm Chow, offensive coordinator. “But you have to make adjustments because nobody feels sorry for you.”

Let’s see: a 92-yard drive, a 74-yard drive, a 96-yard drive. Hmm.

Calling those “adjustments” is like saying Chow’s Hawaiian shirts are “interesting.”

To dissect one of those drives is to uncover the anatomy of the early Trojan season.

Kirtman catch. Reggie Bush run. White run. Alex Holmes catch. Chris McFoy catch. Steve Smith catch.

Leinart makes a great throw, but, instead of celebrating, runs to the sideline to get the next play.

Bush makes a great run but, instead of strutting, heads to the sideline to make room for White.

“When you lose somebody like Mike Williams, you realize, we all have to step up and get it right,” Smith said.

Are the Trojan wide receivers as good as last year’s combination of Williams and Keary Colbert? Not even close.

But are they as good as those guys at the beginning of the 2002 season, which the Trojans ended as probably the country’s best team? Easily.

Dwayne Jarrett, the kid with the trampoline touchdown, is a freshman who turned 18 on Saturday.

Smith is a sophomore. Chow’s system makes even the most experienced players work more overtime than the Trojan band.

“I get tired of everyone saying they can’t do it, because they are learning and getting better at it,” Leinart said. “They will be fine. We are learning to stick together.”

It will be a continuing process, but a shared one. Trojan fans can no longer cheer for Number One, but they can certainly still chant it.

*

Bill Plaschke can be reached at bill.plaschke@latimes.com. To read previous columns by Plaschke, go to latimes.com/plaschke.