Michael Powell arrived, at 17, as the biggest lacrosse name at Syracuse. Never mind that he’d never played a game, never put on a jersey and had just stepped foot on campus. His last name was Powell, and that was enough.

Endless lines of reporters and camera men wanted a piece of the newest Powell, wanted to ask him what it would be like following in the footsteps of Casey and Ryan, his older brothers who had made the Powell name to lacrosse what Ruth was to baseball and Jordan was to basketball.

He hadn’t scored his first point, and already the focus was on him. He could’ve wilted, could’ve hid. Heck, he knew what he was getting into. Powell could’ve gone elsewhere, somewhere with warm weather and without the pressure.

But he didn’t. He didn’t fear the attention, didn’t run from it. He liked it.

For the three years since, Powell has dealt with unthinkable expectations and unrelenting pressure. He’s not only thrived in the hottest spotlight imaginable for a lacrosse player, he’s reveled in it. He loves being a Powell, loves being on the cover of this issue for the second time and loves playing at Syracuse, the grandest stage in his sport.

Now a senior on the Syracuse men’s lacrosse team and 70 points away from being the third Powell to own the all-time SU career scoring record, Powell has gone from wild man to old man, from a struggling student to an academic role model for his teammates.

But before all that, he was a 17-year-old freshman who had to match his brothers’ appetite for SU’s nightlife. And Powell, with his desire to perform and please, wasn’t about to let anybody down.

As prolific as they were in the Carrier Dome, Casey and Ryan also earned a reputation for partying after games. That reputation preceded Michael, especially in the eyes of the Brian Sollidays on the team, the veterans who had played – and partied – with Casey and Ryan.

From his first day, guys like Solliday who played with Ryan dragged Powell along whenever they partied. Powell didn’t mind. To hell with the repercussions. His grades might have suffered, but his lacrosse didn’t.

After staying out late with his gang, Powell would skip class. To make up for it, he practiced lacrosse instead. That cleared his conscience, counteracted the academic damage he created.

It stayed that way until Powell was a sophomore, when his life as a lacrosse player reached its pinnacle. Syracuse won the national championship and Powell took home the Tewaaraton Trophy, lacrosse’s Heisman.

It came crashing down for Powell next fall, when his grades plummeted so low he couldn’t play in the fall. Without lacrosse, he was forced to attend class. It was a wake-up call he needed.

‘Although I’ll continue to be friends with those guys and they’re some of the greatest people I’ve ever met, I mean, they probably weren’t the best for my first two years,’ Powell said. ‘Just coming into it, I got thrown right into the fire.’

He makes up for it today. Powell parties once or twice every two months, he said. He lives off campus, away from the squalor of SU’s easy-access party scene. He might shoot pool or play darts with midfielder Steve Vallone instead of going out. Extra lacrosse sessions no longer replace going to class. His grades are the best they’ve ever been at SU. It’s all part, as he says, of trying to find his focus.

It came with a sacrifice. He doesn’t miss the parties so much as he misses the camaraderie that came with them. He wishes he knew his younger teammates more, but that’s the price of staying in on Friday and Saturday nights.

‘College is supposed to be the best four years of your life,’ Powell said. ‘My first two made up for four. I’m trying to take it easy. Now I realize I’ve got to focus on my academics as well as athletics to be the ultimate person that I want to be. It was very important for me to understand that lesson, I guess. It’s very important in anybody’s life to settle down.’

Settling down was never supposed to be an issue for folks from Carthage, a blue-collar town two hours north of Syracuse. Then it became a lacrosse factory whose best product was boys named Powell, boys who would skip town after high school and make a legacy.

Michael Powell is six, and Mom just gave him the heads up. Finally. He grabs his lacrosse stick and sprints to the backyard, like he’s running downstairs on Christmas morning, but better. Today, he’ll be playing lacrosse with his brothers for the first time.

Except he won’t be playing like them. No, Casey and Ryan stick little Mike in the net and start firing. They don’t hold back. Would you expect them to? Older brothers never hold back, especially not here, in Carthage, and not when it comes to lacrosse.

It stayed like that until Powell was 10, when the brothers recruited a neighbor to play goalie. Michael started playing alongside and against his brothers, at last a chance to earn their respect.

With that, things heated up. Once, after he lost, Powell threw his stick at Ryan and unintentionally hit him in the head. After being chased around the block four times, Powell ended up taped to his front door, two inches off the ground, wearing nothing but Superman underwear.

That was when lacrosse was just for fun. It soon became the family business. Casey went to Syracuse, scored 287 points, more than anyone before him in SU history, while winning a national championship and two Tewaaraton Trophies.

Ryan came next. He played two years with Casey, and in his final game, he won his national title and tied Casey’s record. Casey and Ryan still sit together atop SU’s all-time scoring list.

By the time Powell entered his freshman season at Carthage High, he realized he had to live up to something. By the time he got to Syracuse, he couldn’t avoid the shadow his brothers had cast.

‘He thinks about it every time he gets on the field,’ said Larry Powell, Michael’s father.

It’s hard not to. Playing as a Powell in Syracuse is Michelangelo’s brother retouching the Sistine Chapel.

‘I really don’t think it could be repeated in this sport,’ Vallone said, ‘unless maybe the Gaits had a son.’

‘That’s been the thing that I’ve dealt with my whole life,’ Powell said. ‘It’s hard for me, because I couldn’t come in here and be myself. I had to put on that jersey right away and perform the way they did. And the way they left off. But I did OK.’

OK? That’s not quite right. He thrived under the intense pressure. Actually, he might have thrived because of the intense pressure.

Michael Powell is 14, and he just stumbled across something in his attic. It’s an old guitar, and it feels just about as good in his hands as a lacrosse stick. He starts to play. And play. And play.

Within months, months that drive his eye-rolling parents crazy, Powell will have taught himself to play the guitar. It’s something he still does with a passion today. John Wright, a sophomore defenseman who plays the drums, and Nick Donatelli, a senior back-up goalie who plays bass, often gather at Powell’s place and jam to some Jack Johnson or Dave Matthews.

Playing guitar is the perfect escape for Powell. It’s a way to clear his mind of lacrosse for a couple hours while still performing, a device to make sure the focus is still on him, the family comedian, as Larry calls him. Teammates say he’s the team comedian, a title he earned by pulling pranks like wearing just spandex to practice.

‘My whole life, I’ve been wanting to be in the spotlight,’ Powell said. ‘It’s just that I love to perform and I love to do it in front of people. The most fun part of my life is to show people my abilities.’

When Powell was in middle school, he’d tape himself performing the latest skits from Saturday Night Live using a video camera his mother gave to him. If he still had a camera, he’d do it today, he said.

Powell accepts the pressure his name and wearing the No. 22 brings. He wants it, even. It’s what keeps him working hard when no one’s looking, what holds him accountable. He knows if he lets up, the spotlight might shift to some other player.

Powell is 22 now, and he’s standing on Coyne Field, alone save his chocolate lab, Bodie. He’s firing a whole bag of lacrosse balls into an empty net on an off day. He’s thinking about walking out of Ravens Stadium a year ago, just after he took the worst pounding of his career, a 19-8 loss to Johns Hopkins in the national semifinals. He’s thinking about breaking his brothers’ scoring record, the ultimate validation that he got where he is today on his tremendous skill, not his name.

Or maybe he’s thinking about his future. In just two months, he’ll be spit out into the real world, where he might join Casey and Ryan as representatives for Warrior Lacrosse. He could play pro, probably be the most sought after draft choice in years. But whatever he does, it’ll surely be something to do with lacrosse, right? Right?

‘I don’t know,’ Powell said. ‘I’m going into the real world with an open mind. It depends on what’s going to happen. I’ve got to lay down my cards and see what’s going to take me where.

‘I’d definitely like to try the music thing out. Definitely anything with performing would be fun for me. See how that goes. I’m not real sure to be honest with you. I don’t think you’re supposed to be sure. I understand that you do have to work hard for what you get, but also I think to a certain extent, you’re going to kind of fall into something where you’re supposed to be. I’m hoping that happens pretty soon.’

Soon, sure. But first, there’s his final season to play and a national championship to win, the only thing that will redeem last season’s frustration, for both Powell and his team. Anywhere but Syracuse, a 10-6 season and a trip to the Final Four is phenomenal. But at SU, it’s a letdown.

And though he scored 64 points a year ago – good enough to lead SU and to land him the Jack Turnbull award as the nation’s best attackman – Powell’s season was a letdown, too. Coming off winning the Tewaaraton, Powell faced tougher defenses than ever before. Teams invented defenses and stuck a man on Powell at all times, a rarity in lacrosse. At one point, Powell suggested a rule be placed to prevent the junk defenses.

‘It was difficult for me last year,’ Powell said. ‘I had a hard time with it. It’s hard to get your game on track when you have one guy on their defense that’s sole job is to just stay in front of you the whole game. But they did a good job – and it worked.’

Powell’s confident it won’t this year. Last season, Mike Springer and Liam Banks flanked him, two attackmen known for their shooting and feeding, respectively. Now he’s joined by Brian Crockett and Brian Nee, two dodgers with the athleticism to take pressure off Powell.

But one thing they, or anybody else, can’t — no, won’t — do is take the bright lights and attention away from Powell, the recognition that comes with having the most famous last name and the best game in lacrosse brings.

‘Syracuse has been the greatest stage to perform,’ Powell said, a smile creasing his face. ‘I’ve really enjoyed it here.’

Published on March 2, 2004 at 12:00 pm