His Unassisted Triple Play?

Fumble! Fumble! Get the ball, get the ball!”

The football disappears underneath a mass of cardinal jerseys, players howling, helmets banging, pads quaking, cleats flying.

Moment later, from the bottom of this giant stack of testosterone, a giant smile emerges.

It’s the guy with the ball.

It’s the biggest, baddest guy on the field.

It’s Pete Carroll.

“A teaching moment,” Carroll says later, brushing grass bits from his khaki shorts, missing the pieces that have stuck to his hair.

Not to mention, a metaphor moment, one that not even the brightness of this late-summer practice can hide.

The college football world is the scrum. The national championship is the ball.

Pete Carroll already has one hand on the darned thing, and if he can’t pull it out, he’ll be covered in more than grass.

“It’s on him now,” said former assistant Norm Chow. “But he’s a great coach.”

With great pressure.

Five years after arriving in town as just another curious role player in the long-running Trojan drama, Carroll is now its clear and unchallenged star.

His offensive brains -- Chow -- have left for the NFL.

His defensive brawn and recruiting guru -- Ed Orgeron -- has left for the SEC.

The coach who taught protection for two Heisman Trophy winners -- Tim Davis -- is now tutoring the offensive line for the Miami Dolphins.

All three coaches left town this winter not just for better offers, but perhaps for a bit more credit.

Now, for the first time, all that belongs to Carroll.

The credit, or the blame.

In his hands rests all the potential history, or disappointment, of USC’s attempt at a record third consecutive national championship.

He has clearly been the best coach in college football over the last three seasons. If he pulls this off, he would become one of its best coaches ever. If he doesn’t, he might become just another guy who got too big for his britches.

During a summer in which he got as much ESPN face time as Lee Corso, as much Playboy ink as a centerfold, Pete Carroll was surrounded.

Yet with the opening of the Trojan season Saturday in Hawaii, he will stand alone.

Which is where, one senses, he wanted to be all along.

“There’s going to be questions, there are going to be doubts, it’s all legitimate, it could be huge,” Carroll said.

He shrugged and smiled.

“I love it.”

*

He runs and dives and gestures and claps and spins around the practice field like one of those tie-dyed USC students on their skateboards.

But then, sometimes, the coach becomes a dad.

After a recent workout, Carroll kept reporters waiting while he played a lazy game of pass-and-catch with his son, Trojan assistant Brennan.

Ringing the field were parents visiting with their player sons.

Across the street was a Coliseum that will soon be filled with three generations of cardinal-and-gold shirts.

“This is just perfect,” Carroll said.

He has not only won national titles, he has restored the idea of the Trojans as family.

But, as with every family, there can be only one father.

In recent years, Carroll was increasingly hemmed in by some pretty loud and famous uncles.

Chow’s Heisman tutoring skills became so big, some almost considered him a co-coach.

Orgeron’s mouth and motion were so legendary, some came to practice just to watch him.

And Davis’ intensity seemed to swallow up the drills.

Carroll embraced all of it as he relearned the college game. He was smart enough to surround himself with good people, and the program grew.

But he has become increasingly involved in all aspects of the program, including the play calling.

And several times last fall, he gave quotes about Chow that made it clear that this team was bigger than any coach.

“This is not anyone’s offense,” he said once. “This is the USC offense.”

Even though Carroll said he was trying only to establish continuity in the program, the words surely did little to boost Chow.

Last December during Orange Bowl week, I wrote that the two coaches had a friendly, respectful but occasionally strained relationship that could result in a separation.

I was bombarded with e-mails calling me a troublemaker.

But several weeks later, Chow joined the Tennessee Titans as offensive coordinator, even though Matt Leinart stayed at USC partly because he thought Chow would still be here, and even though Chow was not a fan of working in the NFL.

By the end of spring, Carroll’s three best coaches were gone.

“I didn’t let that quote slip out by accident,” Carroll said. “I told Norm I was going to say it. I wanted to let them know that we’re a system, a program, bigger than any individual. I certainly wasn’t trying to minimize anybody.”

And Carroll says he did not alienate anyone either. “I didn’t like what was written, it wasn’t true the way things were conveyed,” he said.

Whatever happened then, Chow, in an interview with The Times’ Sam Farmer at Titan training camp this summer, predicted future Carroll greatness.

“He’s a great coach, and he has great players ... what more do you need?” he said. “The pressure is on him, but I’m sure he welcomes it.”

About that much, there is no debate.

When asked about now calling some of the plays, overruling Lane Kiffin and Steve Sarkisian, Carroll laughed and said, “The biggest thing I can do is not get in the way ... but sometimes, I interfere.”

When asked whether the Trojans were missing their former coaches, he also smiled and said, “We haven’t lost a step. In fact, I think we’re better.”

As with everything else, Carroll is not running from the coaching losses, he is embracing them.

Yet the players, who have noticed much quieter practices under new line coaches Pat Ruel (offense) and Jethro Franklin (defense), are still adjusting their steps.

“It’s definitely different,” said guard Fred Matua. “We lost two guys who were so emotionally into the game. ... The new guys are more fundamentally into technique.”

It’s going to take time, Matua says.

“Just like we have to prove ourselves all over again, I’m sure the new coaches are feeling the pressure too,” he said. “It’s not easy. In Coach Carroll and Chow, we were lucky to have two geniuses on the same staff. We took that for granted. Now we all have to step up.”

At the very least, emotions are mixed.

“Not that we forgot about [Chow], but we’ve just moved on,” Leinart said to reporters, but then, later, added, “Yeah, I miss him.”

Who knows whether the Trojans will still be missing them in January? Between now and then, the scrum will be crowded, the opponents will be desperate, the ball will be slippery.

Keep your eyes on the shock of white hair. A legacy depends on it.

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