It's not often that a 36-year-old amateur quarterback gets to channel his inner Eli Manning (or Mark Sanchez), but Ken Sobek could be forgiven for believing the world is his every Sunday morning.

Never mind that he plays without pads and has no linemen to protect him. Forget about the sold-out stadium and millions of television viewers. That's the surcharge with touch-football: you sacrifice the glory (OK, the bucks, too) for a chance to feel a little younger, which is what Sobek and his Dumont Brewers teammates signed up for in the first place.

They're part of a growing fraternity -- more than a thousand die-hards playing on fields throughout Bergen, Passaic, Essex, Sussex and Rockland counties, all tucked under the umbrella of the Atlantic Coast Football League. This federation makes no claim to exclusivity -- a Google search of flag football in New Jersey will deluge your computer screen -- but Sobek says, "We're the biggest league in the tri-state area."

The phenomenon has actually turned into a nationwide craze. There's co-ed flag football, flag football for kids starting at age 5, women's leagues, even a variety that's played on the beach. The NFL has a spinoff Web site called NFLRush.com, devoted to pre-teens who might otherwise be lured away by soccer.

"The fact that kids are learning the game without worrying about equipment helps flag football," says Sobek.

"Flag gets rid of the heavy hitting, which makes it easier to sell to parents. And because of that, flag is blowing away the number of kids playing soccer or tackle leagues."

CALLING ALL WEEKEND WARRIORS

Sobek has a vested interest in keeping the pipeline alive. Not only is he the Brewers' signal caller, he was the league's commissioner for more than a decade. Together, Sobek and founder Gary Ottomanelli created the perfect buffet table for the weekend warrior.

For the elite -- the ex-college jocks still in their 20s -- there's flag football, which more closely follows the rules of the professional game than touch. For players in their 30s and early 40s, including those who have less competitive backgrounds in football, touch offers a slower-paced, less-physical experience.

There's no mistaking the two styles of play. A touch-football "tackle" requires just that -- a simple two-hand touch. In flag, the defensive team must remove a flag or flag belt from the ball carrier ("deflagging") to end a down. Touch is 6-on-6; flag is 8-on-8 with three linemen who are ineligible to catch passes downfield.

That creates a line of scrimmage that's populated by a center and two tackles, man-mountains who sometimes rock the scales at 280 pounds. Defensive linemen rush the passer just like they do in the pros, and even though there's no blocking above the shoulders or below the waist, the league's message is clear: if you want to play flag football, be ready for an intense, bruising game.

Although major injuries are rare, the league nevertheless reminds players not take their safety for granted. Everyone steps onto the field at their own risk.

On its Web site, the ACFL says, "the league provides no medical insurance of any form. If you do not have personal medical insurance, the league recommends that you do not play or participate."

GROWING POPULARITY

The disclaimer hasn't put a dent in the sport's expansion. Despite the $795 per team fee, there are now more than 50 teams in the two leagues, with fall, winter and spring seasons.

Not bad for an experiment started in 1994 by Ottomanelli, who, after graduating from St. Thomas Aquinas College, was living at home in Old Tappan. He'd played football in college and wasn't ready to surrender the game. He got his fix in a weekly touch-league in the Whitestone section of Queens, crossing two bridges in the middle of winter. One day, Ottomanelli finally decided, "This is crazy. I should start my own local league."

In the days before the Internet, on-line messages boards and Twitter -- the pre-everything era -- Ottomanelli drummed up interest the old-fashioned way. He printed up fliers and posters, distributing them to local merchants, one storefront at a time. He took out ads in the local papers. Word of mouth helped, too.

Ottomanelli had hoped to attract enough players to fill four rosters for a six-game season. It was a modest goal, but beat fighting traffic on the Cross Bronx Expressway. But after just one day of advertising, Ottomanelli had 32 messages on his answering machine and quickly had enough volunteers to fill out eight teams.

The touch league's opening ceremonies were held in December 1994 at Stone Point Park in Old Tappan, presided over by then-mayor Ed Gallagher. The day's schedule called for six games -- three at 9 a.m., three at 11 a.m., but by early afternoon the ACFL went hurtling toward its first crisis. Four hours of non-stop action had turned the field to mud.

Ottomanelli's heart sank. "The place looked like Woodstock," he says. "The next day, I got a phone call from the town. They said, 'we've revoked your permit.' I went to the field and there was the sign: Field Closed."

Ottomanelli scrambled to find a home for the ACFL, eventually convincing Closter and Northvale to open up their fields. "I guess word hadn't spread there yet," he says with a laugh.

Turns out that was the life preserver the league needed. The eight teams mushroomed to 18 in the second year, then to 32 in Year Three. By the late 1990s, Ottomanelli was using the Internet not just to recruit new teams, but to keep players updated about schedules, rosters and rules.

In fact, business was so good, Ottomanelli realized he had to expand from a fall league to a three-season endeavor. Soon after, he introduced a separate flag league -- the big ex-jocks who'd been lured out of the weight room were complaining touch was too fast and too specialized for their tastes.

What they craved was smash-mouth football, or at least something resembling it. Today, Ottomanelli sits atop an empire even he couldn't have predicted would be so successful. The ACFL is a well-oiled machine that's obsessive in the handling of its fields. Hackensack High School donates its practice football field to the league every Sunday with the understanding that even the slightest hint of rain will result in the automatic postponement of the day's schedule.

"We've come a long way," Ottomanelli says, to which Sobek kiddingly notes, "Gary's up there now in his ivory tower."

Truth is, Ottomanelli is still playing in his own league, helping the Old Tappan Banana Slugs compete for a Division 2 touch championship.

Win or lose, however, the Sundays are all about good football, good friends, forging a bond that can't be re-created at the office. "I'm hanging on to every last season I possibly can," says Ottomanelli, who is 39 and, thanks to his ACFL, might just stay there awhile.