Bledsoe Grows At Ease With Nfl Lifestyle

He is different now, and it’s not just because Bill Parcells is no longer his coach.

You look at Drew Bledsoe and he’s no longer the kid with the golden arm, the kid who is going to take the Patriots to the end zone all by himself. No longer is he the young quarterback with all the pressure hanging around his shoulders like some wet, woolly blanket.

And it’s more than simply what he does on the field, the fact he doesn’t force the ball as much as he used to, no longer feels the need to take the big risk. It’s how he handles the entire role of being the quarterback of the New England Patriots, whether that’s feeding the media monster or being the acknowledged leader of the team, whether he really wants to be or not.

Maturity as an NFL quarterback comes in many ways.

“He’s much more accepting of his role as the leader,” says Stacey James, the Pats’ media relations director. “He understands what is expected of him, and he does it. He’s never really going to enjoy the media, but he understands that it’s all part of his job.”

Much has been made of Bledsoe’s development as a pro quarterback. How he had to learn to read defenses. How he had to learn to lead a team on the field. How he had to learn to be more than just a player with a great arm. All under the sometimes oppressive yoke of Parcells. Not so much has been made of his development off the field, his acceptance of the fact that being an NFL quarterback puts you in the eye of the storm whether you want to be or not.

It wasn’t always that way.

Not only did Bledsoe come to the Pats in 1993 as the No. 1 pick in the draft out of Washington State University, he also was coming to a woeful team, a team full of faceless players whose name recognition around the league was minimal.

Take away Parcells, and Bledsoe was the only known commodity. He was the one the media wanted to talk to. He was the one who had to do the conference call every Wednesday with the opponent’s media. He was the story after every game, the one whose locker was surrounded, even if he hadn’t played well. He was the one expected to be the unofficial leader and spokesman for the team, even if he still should have been a senior at Washington State.

Is it any wonder he didn’t like it?

Being a quarterback always is a walk through a minefield. It’s the glamour position. He’s the player who usually earns the most money. He’s the one who can easily be resented by teammates if he says the wrong thing or does the wrong thing.

Then there was the issue of his personality. It’s no secret Bledsoe would be more comfortable in a different era, one in which players played the game and then seemed to disappear into the fog afterwards. There is still little known about Bledsoe, even for all his celebrity, and that’s exactly how he wants it.

Then there is his demeanor. Call it West Coast. Call it laid back. Call it anything you want. But his blank expression and monotone voice sometimes makes him seem disinterested during interviews. Especially that first year, when he always seemed to give off the feeling he’d rather be facing a safety blitz than answering one more question.

“He didn’t want to do a lot of things that were expected of him,” James says. “Sometimes we had to twist his arm to get him to go.”

James says how he once saw a tape of Bledsoe addressing a high school class where he told the students he would rather play football in front of 60,000 people than talk in front of them.

That has changed. Gradually.

There was the time a couple of years ago when he went for a ride in a fighter plane. When he was asked afterwards how Parcells - known for his aversion to flying - would have liked it, he quipped, “I don’t think Bill could have fit in the cockpit.”

“I think that was the first time Drew realized he could have some fun with the media,” James says. “That he could loosen up a little.”

That was the beginning of his transformation.

Interestingly, there are probably less media demands on Bledsoe now than there were in his first couple of years. Why? Because he’s not the whole show anymore. Curtis Martin is an emerging star, as is Terry Glenn. Ben Coates is widely recognized as the best tight end in football. Chris Slade and Willie McGinest are starting to make their own national statements. It’s just not Bledsoe anymore.

And when it is?

He is different. More relaxed. More comfortable. More willing to let people through his personal defenses.

The maturation of a quarterback isn’t only about cutting down on interceptions.