It would be hard to blame Joe Battista for overlooking a guy like Greg Windsor. At 5-foot-7, 140 pounds, he wasn't the easiest to notice in the first place.

"He proved everybody wrong, including me, because when he first came here I wasn't a big fan. I didn't think he could play because he was small and he wasn't very strong," Battista said.

That was five years ago.

The casual fan probably knows very little about Windsor, but that's probably because you're not supposed to. He calls himself a "grinder" on the ice. Someone who isn't afraid to get his hands dirty, stir things up a bit. One who'll literally sell himself out for the team.

Let it be known: Greg Windsor will finish his career as an Icer holding no scoring records, having no invitations to play overseas in the World University Games and having no intentions on playing hockey at a higher level.

Let it be known: It would be pretty hard for the Penn State ACHA Division I Icers to win their fifth championship in six years without a guy like Windsor on the team.

At the conclusion of every season the Icers hold an annual awards banquet to recap the season and distribute incentives to their players and coaches. For the past three years Windsor has been the recipient of The John Dufford ICE (Intense, Consistent, Effort) Award, an honor that accurately describes Windsor's style.

"He doesn't have the best skills, but no one out works him," Battista said. "The kid is nothing but heart."

Ah, yes, the heart -- something that almost caused Windsor to end his Icer career prematurely.

Windsor was a redshirt junior entering his third year with the Icers. Not everyone's spot on the roster is engraved in stone at the beginning of each season, so Battista and his coaches conduct tryouts for what most people would call "bubble" players.

"His third year with us, we actually cut him because we all said what made Greg so special was his heart and effort and we weren't seeing it," Battista said.

Secretly Windsor had been struggling with a hip-flexor injury throughout tryouts that only a select number of his teammates knew about. He never said a word about it to the coaching staff.

"I got an e-mail right after the last tryout saying, 'We're sorry, but we just don't think your heart was in it'," Windsor said.

"For me that was a surprise because my heart's always been [there], especially with hockey."

Shortly after the dismissal, Battista's phone was being blown up by the majority of the Icers.

"The entire team called me and said they wanted to have a meeting with me, and they all stood up for him," Battista said.

When approached about why he never spoke up about his condition, Windsor said he didn't want to use that as an excuse.

It's hard to measure a guy's heart.

At his height, there's no one smaller than Windsor on the Icers team, but there are few that play bigger. Raised just north of Baltimore, Windsor didn't come from an area that's prevalent in terms of hockey. He came from a midget-AA program while most Icers come from midget-AAA or junior-A programs.

"He's as close to the story of the guy who just wouldn't take no for an answer," Battista said.

One of Windsor's favorite movies is Rudy, a story of another guy who wouldn't take no for an answer as he persevered to become a member of Notre Dame's esteemed football program.

It's easy to see the resemblance.

On Sunday mornings in State College you'll find most students comfortably nestled in their beds, some hung over, others who have yet to go to sleep from the festivities of the previous night.

On any particular Sunday you can find Battista and his family at St. Paul's Methodist Church on College Avenue.

It's not unusual to find Windsor there, too.

"The kids go nuts every time they see him," Battista said. "They think it's cool that one of the Icers goes to their church."

Windsor gives credit to his mom for keeping him in church growing up. Every home game for the Icers she can be found sitting in the stands, cheering -- or coaching -- her son on, even when the Icers have a comfortable lead in a game.

"She's been making it to all the games this year because it's my last year and my brother is finished with hockey, and she doesn't get to see much competitive hockey," Windsor said. "She's going to miss the game too."

Today Windsor is far different from the skinny kid who won his coach's respect over the years. He's an academic All-American for the second year in a row as a finance major. At 175 pounds, now chiseled, he knows ending his senior year without another championship would definitely be a disappointment. But, if no banner is added to the rafters of the Pavilion, he can count on rewarding his mother with a college degree.

"She gives us kids so much and I just want to give back to her, especially in school considering I'm [from] out of state and she's paying out-of-state tuition," Windsor said.

Battista only has a couple more months to coach a player that he called one of the delights of his tenure at Penn State.

"I wish every player was as easy to coach as he is," Battista said.

At first it was easy not to spot a guy like Windsor.

For Battista, it'll be that much harder to let him leave his sight.