Seahawk pick Owen Schmitt might be as daring as he is tough

KIRKLAND — The psychological test given to all NFL players asked a question as offbeat as it was simple: Are you a dog or a cat?

Neither, Owen Schmitt decided, and he wrote in his own answer: "Lion."

"I just didn't think I was a dog or a cat," Schmitt said.

A lion. That's more like it. He's got a Mohawk for a mane and takes a king-of-the-jungle approach to the football field. He's a 247-pound fullback from West Virginia who bench-pressed 225 pounds 26 times at the scouting combine and has a personality that might be even stronger. He's not afraid to color outside the lines on an either-or question.

The second day of the draft is where NFL teams look for depth and special-teams contributors. On Sunday it's where the Seahawks got both when they picked Schmitt in the fifth round, grabbing hold of a live wire with both hands.

This is a guy who's known to express his frustration by removing his helmet and bashing it into his own noggin a time or three while on the sidelines. Someone who plays with a touch of craziness and a whole lot of toughness, offering the following description of a fullback's job responsibilities: "Being one those guys who is willing to stick his face in the fan and be prepared to be physical."

He didn't mean that literally, though. This is important to point out because Schmitt, when he was growing up, ran off the roof of a house. In middle school, he leapt from a set of bleachers onto a basketball rim, only to lose his grip and fall to the ground, landing on his side and fracturing his hip.

"I was playing monkey bars 11 feet in the air," he said.

He was called upon to kick a pooch punt last season for West Virginia, and he botched it sufficiently that he felt compelled to remove his helmet and smash it against his own forehead to express his frustration. ESPN showed a replay of that moment on Sunday after Schmitt was chosen.

The NCAA does not keep track of the number of face masks bent or broken over a college career, but Schmitt has been told his tally is 11.

Schmitt has a résumé to go along with that reputation. He started out playing Division III football in Wisconsin-River Falls, but transferred to West Virginia after two years. At the scouting combine, only three running backs managed more bench-press repetitions at 225 pounds than Schmitt.

He also changed his hairstyle, trimming the woolly Mohawk that looked as rugged as his playing style during his senior year of college. He's still got the single stripe of hair, it's just shorter. More military than wild man.

"I have the shaved, business 'hawk now," Schmitt said. "It's professional now."

Hmmm. Can a Mohawk ever really be professional?

"You know, I'm an ugly guy," Schmitt said. "So I don't think the mohawk is really the thing I have to worry about."

The Seahawks like their players to have character. Schmitt certainly does. He also happens to be a bit of a character.

"I haven't done anything bad," he said. "I might have eaten a coaster or two, but that's about it."

Actually, he ate one cardboard coaster in 10 seconds, according to a story published on the Web site for West Virginia athletics.

Never having eaten a cardboard coaster, it's tough to gauge the impressiveness of the feat, but we'll just go ahead and assume that, in the pantheon of strange and crazy feats, the 10-second consumption ranks as extremely extreme.

Even a dog or a cat would have trouble with that. It would take someone who sees himself like a lion to accomplish it.

Danny O'Neil: 206-464-2364 or doneil@seattletimes.com