ESPN MAGAZINE

They see him on campus in size XXXXXXL jeans, and they wonder if he's Blood, Crip or Trojan. They wonder what he's been smoking, or what class he's been cutting, but what they need to know is the whole story. If they only knew about his dream, maybe they wouldn't be in such a lather. If they only knew that as a child he shortened his name to R. Jay so it would be easier to sign his Heisman autographs, maybe they might have him on the cover of their media guide instead of some waif of a running back. If they understood him, understood that he wants that trophy worse than life itself, maybe the coaches at USC would see him for what he is -- the nation's premier playmaker, who in three seasons has scored a touchdown every 6.9 times he's touched the ball. But all they focus on are his drops and the tattoo on his right upper arm, the one that says "Outlaw." All they know is that he pouts when they ask him to tuck in his jersey and that he showed up for only three off-season workouts. And so they ride him. But you don't ride Rodney Jay Soward, because he will rebel on you and dump on you.

"I've fought authority and authority's winning," he says, laughing in soprano. "But, hey man, there's still time on the clock."

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