After games, the Icers' forward exits the locker room, strategically transforming teammates into barriers as he tries to avoid media attention. Much to his dismay, Rob Keegan is noticed.

He quickly smirks as he confidently stands before reporters, shooting down questions faster than he pounces on a loose puck.

Then he leaves.

His mysterious ways intrigue many. But the little bits of information that seep out about him from time to time add to the theory that he is a walking contradiction. He is soft-spoken but looked up to by his teammates. He is flashy as a player and low-key as a person.

After his strong showing at the Chicago Classic in November, some called the junior forward "Dr. Illinois" and "Mr. Chicago." Perhaps those should be changed to "Dr. Jekyll" and "Mr. Hyde" since he leads his team with 44 points and 48 penalty minutes in 21 games.

His trademark mild-mannered characteristics quickly transform into fiery, never-ending irritations the second he steps onto the ice.

"He's a bit of a trash-talker out on the ice, but he does it in kind of a sly way," Coach Joe Battista said of his penalty-prone player. "He really gets under people's skin. He's the kind of guy you have to have on your team but hate to play against."

Keegan's actions, not words, cause the most havoc during a game. Just looking at his most recent Nittany Lion Invitational Tournament MVP performance -- six goals and two assists -- showed why his teammates respect him.

"You would expect somebody like that to be conceited or loud, but he's not like that," linemate Cliff Graziano said. "He's like my best friend, but he's really quiet. He's hard to figure out at times."

Keegan's complex personality defies any description but his play leaves few thoughts to the imagination.

No. 19 plows through defensemen like there's no tomorrow. A smile appears through his face mask while he laughs with his linemates after flattening an opponent with a booming check.

He admits to getting more pleasure out of making, not completing, plays but his scoring knack always seems to put him in the spotlight. However, Keegan's coolness during the evolution of an intricate play is often overcome by an explosion of his short temper after the play concludes.

Many refer to him as a grinder because he plays a tough brand of hockey. He lives for it, but he downplays those minor incidents that "just sort of happen."

Like in a game earlier this season. With two minutes left on the clock and a mess in front of Penn State's net, Keegan protected his goaltender by throwing a few punches. His response once he left the ice, "He hit me first, so I hit him back," reflects his philosophy of hockey.

"Before he came here, he had a reputation as kind of a hot-head," Battista said of the Lake Forest College transfer. "He does have that mischievous streak in him, there's no doubt about that, but I think he's relatively harmless."

So the plot thickens with only one person possessing the knowledge to enlighten those who know him. And he will never tell how or why he does what he does on or off the ice. That's all part of the fun for Rob Keegan and besides, it only adds to his mystery.

"He's got that inner cockiness," Battista said, "an inner arrogance which I honestly believe the most successful athletes have."