By Clare Kathleen Malone

	Eric, seen here at the base of the pyramid, played football in high school but never had any acrobatic training until this summer. Photo courtesy of Bernard Rick Cusimano IV

Cusimano's large class ring glints as he rests his hands on the table and speaks with a knowing air about the regional differences in cheerleading. Though he has no bayou drawl, there is a glint of southern affectation in Cusimano's voice as he informs me that "the further to the south, the more male influence you'll find in the sport."

Perhaps it is due to this cultural acceptance that Cusimano appears so comfortable in his position as a male cheerleader; President George W. Bush is another southern boy who found his niche in college through his participation in the sport. The fact that the team is overwhelmingly female does not seem to daunt Cusimano, who says that the girls have "been very accommodating."

In an example of such accommodation, the squad's coach made special care packages for each cheerleader to enjoy during their trip to New York for the Big East tournament. The care packages for the girls consisted of what Cusimano termed "feminine products" (he did not elaborate on the contents) but his was duly masculine, with a razor, shaving gel and deodorant included. Cusimano appreciated the gesture, though he insists of his toilette, "I have my own system." Ever hygienically conscious, Cusimano sticks to Bond brand deodorant and unlike other teenage boys, washes his uniform before every game.

In addition to his infamous flag run, Cusimano is working on incorporating other elements of showmanship into his performances. When I mention the flips he executes during the halftime show, he smiles. "So you noticed? That's good!"

Though Cusimano's solidly muscular and compact build could easily blend into any posse of male gymnasts (he played football in high school), he never had any acrobatic training until this summer, when he began to take classes in preparation for his move to college cheerleading.

In fact, the first time he performed a flip by himself was on the eventful afternoon of the Villanova game. But it is obvious that Cusimano now takes his acrobatics seriously; he tapes his wrists before games to prevent injury and has dropped from 185 pounds to 175 in part to increase the ease with which he can flip his body (though he claims that he is a "lifelong dieter" anyway).

As is true with any sports team, Cusimano says he spends a fair amount of time with his compatriots. In addition to two practices a week, he works out with the other cheerleaders, "I lift with the girls as much as I can," he says. "Granted, them spotting me is a little difficult."

But his relations with the girls are strictly platonic; he shies away from the complications of inter-squad romance and says bluntly, "I don't date anyone I cheer with."

Indeed, it is clear that Cusimano isn't just in it for the short skirts. He takes his cheering seriously and has a pre-game ritual as involved as any compulsively superstitious slugger's. His routine begins the night before, when he lays out his uniform, (which he stores separately from the rest of his wardrobe); on the way to the game he pops two Advil and a Sudafed, and once he reaches the Verizon Center he applies his tape and dons sweatbands which he admits are "more or less just for show." His pregame soundtrack is just as important for mental preparation; he has separate playlists that he listens to during the ride to the game and the warm-up, and he has a third one on hand in case there is some lag time before tip-off. The last song he listens to before gametime is Heart of a Champion by Nelly.

When asked about any additions to his ritual in the postseason, Cusimano readily admits to finding inspiration from Russell Crowe's portrayal of a rugged Roman fighter in Gladiator. "It's more of a cheerleading pump-up movie than most people think" he says of the decidedly testosterone-heavy flick.

Like Maximus, who sees himself an ordinary stiff in the lion pit, Cusimano considers himself as just another member of the squad -- almost. When asked if he ever dances with the team in their foot-stomping, booty-shaking routine, Cusimano demurs. "Not yet, but it may happen."