Seneca, Seneca, can I get a couple quotes from you on the record?”

“Sure.” he says.

“Tell me the story of your life Seneca. How have things gone for you so far at ISU?”

“Good” he says.

And so goes the process of trying to coax out full sentences from a talker more protective of his words than a witness pleading the Fifth.

Seneca is a man of few words. Very few words.

A mother’s dream he may be: soft spoken, polite, makes good eye contact, but to a reporter he represents horror.

Asking a star player to run you through his or her thoughts following a spectacular performance and getting five words for an answer is enough to warrant giving up your beat in exchange for an assignment covering a lecture on molecules and fission.

Ennis Haywood will talk your ear off, while Matt Word keeps you chuckling by describing getting confused on an option as getting “lost in the sauce.”

Coach McCarney has plenty to say, as do all of the other coaches, players, trainers, PR guys, janitors and program sellers, but not Seneca.

Why do the best players on the team have to be the quietest?

Seneca must think there is a library policy in effect campus wide.

Talk too loud, and you’ll get your hand swatted.

Awkward silence follows every question asked by the news media. Microphones extended and cameras rolling, everyone hopes that what they just heard wasn’t his full answer. It couldn’t be.

Maybe he was thinking of more to say?

Think again.

“Seneca, could you recite the alphabet for us?”

“ABCDEFG .”

Reporters wait, mouths agape, for a resolution that will never come.

Seneca knows the rest of his ABC’s, but I don’t think you could pry it out of him with a crowbar and sledgehammer. Frustrating.

There is a bright side to this lack of verbal communication. Seneca will go the entire season without an unsportsmanlike penalty call against him.

Angry Nebraska linebacker: “Seneca, you suck, and your family sucks.”

Seneca: “OK.”

Ticked off Nebraska linebacker: “Didn’t you hear me number 15?”

Seneca: “Yes.”

Or if Seneca leads the team Bible study, the guys won’t have to wait around long.

“Hey Seneca, what verses are we reading today?”

“Today I thought we would read John 11:35.”

The team grows excited, could Seneca be about to break out of his shell, and lay down some lengthy verbage?

“John 11:35. `Jesus wept.’ See you guys next week.”

If an NFL coach communicated with the media the way Seneca does, he would be fined.

Imagine if all players were this quiet. Your Sunday sports section would read like a blank sheet of paper.

We wouldn’t have known about Michael’s return to the NBA until Washington took to the court for the first game.

A couple hundred young females would have been shocked to reveal that John Kruk has one testicle.

Mass hysteria everywhere.

Luckily, it is an isolated case of the “no comments.”

If it were to spread, a lot of good people with easy jobs would be out of work.

Pretty soon, all reporters will forgo the obvious, and stop interviewing the man who can’t be interviewed.

No matter what the question, you will be hard pressed to elicit more than two complete sentences. Leave the notepad and tape recorder at home.

Memorization will work with Seneca. “Good, pretty good, I’m not sure, I don’t know.”

If you can remember those four, there is a decent shot you can write your story from memory. Seneca has a job to do, other than talking to the media, and he is doing it very well.

The game on Saturday will finally reveal what kind of team the Cyclones really are.

Seneca and Nebraska quarterback Eric Crouch will be quite a battle.

In the end don’t be surprised to see that Seneca Wallace puts up better numbers than his counterpart Eric Crouch.

Don’t be surprised if Iowa State plays Nebraska tough, perhaps even coming away with a victory.

Don’t be surprised if the Cyclones win, and celebrate all the way across I-80.

Do be surprised if Seneca has anything to say about it.

Marcus Charter is a junior in journalism and mass communication from Ames.