CRUISING BRUISER

No one knew quite what to make of Jamal Anderson.

Coaches took one look at that large body and had to think twice.

At 234 pounds, Anderson looked too big to play halfback. But he was too quick, had too many moves, to waste at fullback.

“People have not understood my abilities and my talents,” he says.

It started back at El Camino Real High, where he did not become a star until his senior season. Same thing in college. The Atlanta Falcons did not pick him until the seventh round of the 1994 draft, and he ran the ball only a few dozen times in his first two seasons.

Not that he was ever shy about telling coaches what he could do. But it was tough getting them to listen.

“I’ve always had to fight for recognition,” he says. “I just thought if I kept trying, someone would give me the opportunity.”

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Now Anderson can laugh about the past.

His smile shines as brightly as the jeweled chain around his neck. He looks younger than 25 with his baseball cap turned backward and his words springing forth in optimistic bursts.

“I am truly blessed,” he says.

This is, after all, the year of the big man in the NFL.

Now all the coaches want halfbacks with fullback bodies, bruisers such as Jerome Bettis of the Pittsburgh Steelers, Eddie George of the Tennessee Oilers and Gary Brown of the San Diego Chargers.

“You go from being a tweener to the prototype,” Anderson says. “I’m fortunate to be one of those guys.”

In Atlanta, he is the guy. With almost 800 yards entering the Philadelphia Eagles game this Sunday, Anderson has a shot at becoming the first Falcon to record consecutive 1,000-yard rushing seasons in more than a decade. But running is only part of the equation.

“Very good receiver coming out of the backfield, excellent blocker in pass protection,” Atlanta Coach Dan Reeves says. “He can handle all those different positions.”

On one play, Anderson pounds between the tackles. On the next, he lines up as a wideout.

“A rare combination,” Reeves says.

And sometimes misunderstood.

“Jamal had the natural size from the get-go,” says Rick Hayashida, who coached him at El Camino Real. “But I don’t think people realized he had the speed and quickness. They considered him more of a plodder.”

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A four-year-old boy sits in front of the television set. It is Super Bowl Sunday, 1976, the Pittsburgh Steelers against the Dallas Cowboys. He clenches his small fists.

“Jamal,” his mother asks, “what are you doing?”

He says: “I can’t wait till I can hurt somebody.”

Zenobia Anderson insists from that moment on, she believed her son would become a football star. Her faith was severely tested.

Even after Jamal gained 1,153 yards as a high school senior, he was overshadowed his first season at Moorpark College, mostly blocking for All-American running back Freddie Bradley.

Given the chance to shine as a sophomore, he ran for 1,163 yards to lead the Raiders to the Western State Bowl. But the following year, he languished at Utah.

“He never said, ‘Mom, I’m giving up,’ ” Zenobia recalls. “But you could hear it in his voice.”

Jamal was forced to draw upon the experiences of his youth. His father, James, was a bodyguard for boxers, so he had learned about self-confidence by hanging around Muhammad Ali and Sugar Ray Leonard.

Midway through his senior season, Anderson became the focus of Utah’s single-back offense. He responded by rushing for 158 yards and three touchdowns against San Diego State. He gained 1,032 yards that season and finished with a 35-yard touchdown run against USC in the Freedom Bowl.

Come draft day, Anderson figured he had it made. Apparently, he had not learned from the past. The rounds went by without mention of his name.

“I was sitting in front of the TV going, ‘Oh my God.’ ”

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Big backs are nothing new to the NFL.

They date back at least as far as the 1930s, their genealogy tracing its way through Bronko Nagurski and Marion Motley, Jim Brown and John Riggins.

But it is only recently that they have come back in vogue. And only recently has Anderson joined their ranks, succeeding Craig “Ironhead” Heyward as Atlanta’s top back last season.

After so many years of being the odd man out, he finds himself part of the “in” crowd.

“That’s a situation that took some getting used to,” he says. “But it feels good.”