Breaking the mold

So, in years to come, when the children who have accepted this torch of passion for the hometown pro football team get around to asking about the legend of the 2004 Patriots, just what will you tell them about the players who made it possible? That they weren't the brightest stars, but the fiercest competitors.

That they weren't the largest in size, but the biggest in heart.

That they weren't the swiftest afoot, but the quickest of mind.

That they weren't the brashest of egos, but the boldest of spirit.

And if you say all that, take comfort, for you would have spoken the truth.

Old school
It was late Sunday afternoon and the Patriots had arrived in St. Augustine, Fla., some 40 miles south of Jacksonville, site of Super Bowl XXXIX. There would be a week of practice to come and an endless parade of interview sessions, the first of which was under way when Patriots coach Bill Belichick could be heard saying, "He puts himself last and everything first."

For the record, he was talking about Troy Brown.

For perspective, he could have been talking about anyone who wore the Patriots uniform in 2004. Never before had there been a group of modern-day football players who were seemingly molded in the spirit of Chuck Bednarik, the grandest of all the two-way players who graced the gridiron in eras gone by.

"It's the way they intended the game to be played," said "Concrete Charlie" and indeed, it's the way the Patriots approached it.

Brown, most notably.

He was eight games into his 12th season as an NFL wide receiver/kick returner when the coaches asked him to play in the defensive backfield. In any other NFL port, a player would have shaken his head, but Brown simply snapped the chin strap and strolled into a whirlwind of activity for the next 12 weeks, a wide receiver/kick returner/defensive back.

"I've never spent so much time at the stadium," said the 33-year-old Brown. "I come in in the morning and ask them where they want me to go. Offensive team meeting? Defensive team meeting? Special teams team meeting?"

Wherever. Whatever. Whenever.

It was that philosophy that made this group of players so lovable, so intriguing, so damn-near unbeatable, or have you already forgotten that they ran the NFL record for consecutive victories to 21? It covered the final 12 games of the 2003 regular season, then three playoff games and the first six games of 2004. When the roll came to a crashing halt in Pittsburgh on Halloween, the Patriots did not get frightened; they merely won eight of their next nine in the regular season, then swept three more in the playoffs.

They did it behind a beguiling balance of offense (437 points, fourth in the NFL) and defense (260 points, tied for second in the league) and a commitment to a team concept that was unparalleled in this era of free agency and million-dollar bonuses. But they surely didn't do it on the strength of individual glory, for Pro Bowl recognition was slim up and down the roster. Even while quarterback Tom Brady continued his march toward a Joe Montana-like legend, he only ranked 10th in passing yards (3,692), ninth in rating (92.6), and sixth in touchdown passes (28).

Along the way, Brady was without his favorite receiver, Deion Branch (35 receptions), for seven games, the reliable Brown missed four of the first six weeks, heralded rookie tight end Ben Watson went on IR after one week, tight end Daniel Graham (30 receptions) missed two games, and his usual target out of the backfield, Kevin Faulk, was unavailable for five weeks.

No excuses, no surrender, no panic, for Brady spread it around to David Givens (56 catches), David Patten (44), Christian Fauria (16), and even Bethel Johnson (10).

Of course, Brady had an insurance policy in No. 28, Corey Dillon. The veteran had been called a malcontent in Cincinnati, but nothing could have been further from the truth in New England. Durable and relentless, shifty and powerful, Dillon ran for 1,635 yards, third in the league, and was at his best when the Patriots needed to protect a late-game lead with ball possession.

"I knew," said Dillon, "that we were going to win a lot of football games. This is what I came here for."

Dillon in so many ways filled a void that had existed within the Patriots' offense even in the Super Bowl years of 2001 and 2003, but much of the credit must go to an unassuming group of mountains up front. Right tackle Brandon Gorin stepped in for the injured Tom Ashworth and played well, while his colleagues were present and accounted for in all 19 games -- Stephen Neal at right guard, Dan Koppen at center, Joe Andruzzi at left guard, Matt Light at left tackle. Very little fanfare came their way, but in a fashion that was contagious, they never sought it out, either. They only made sure Dillon had his holes and Brady (only five quarterbacks were sacked fewer times) had his protection.

"The media said we were boring," said Koppen, moments after he had been part of a second Super Bowl triumph. "But it's OK, because boring wins."

Defense never rested
So does flexibility. So does unselfishness. So does unflappable. All describe a defense made up of undersized and underappreciated players. They did it with talent, yes. They did it with brawn, no doubt. But mostly, they did it with a commitment to a system that called for deception, for split-second adjustments, for unconventional methods.

They played the 3-4? Mostly, yes, with the men up front -- starters Ty Warren, Keith Traylor, Richard Seymour, and backups Vince Wilfork and Jarvis Green -- doing admirable duty in the trenches. But in the Super Bowl they rarely were in the 3-4, more often in the 2-5, just as earlier in the year they had slipped into the fabled "no down linemen" setup. John Madden said on "Monday Night Football" late in the season that he had never seen that formation, but we had. On several occasions earlier in the season, the Patriots had lined up on defense without any meat up front, dependent on the marvelous skills of linebackers Willie McGinest, Ted Johnson, Mike Vrabel, and the heart of it all, the irrepressible Tedy Bruschi. There were valuable contributions from veterans in various roles -- Roman Phifer and Rosevelt Colvin -- and second-year player Tully Banta-Cain had flashes of excellence.

When starting cornerbacks Ty Law and Tyrone Poole went down with injuries, Asante Samuel (one interception) and Randall Gay (two) stood up to the pressure. There was constant support behind them from the incomparable Rodney Harrison (sixth in the league in tackles, an interception return for a TD against Pittsburgh in the AFC Championship, two picks in the Super Bowl) and his partner at safety, Eugene Wilson. On those many occasions when further help was needed in "nickel" and "dime" packages, the call was put out to Brown and linebacker Don Davis; not only did they answer, they did so without a whimper.

"Those guys have been through a lot. They faced challenges all year," said Belichick, moments after a third Vince Lombardi Trophy had landed in his possession. "I think it's been beyond the call of duty."

He was referring to his coordinators -- Charlie Weis on offense, Romeo Crennel for the defense -- but those sentiments applied to the men who slipped on the pads and the helmets and bought into a philosophy that is very hard to sell these days: whatever was best for the team was OK with them.

That is why Vrabel and Seymour took on extra duty in offensive situations near the goal line, why Vrabel caught a pair of touchdown passes (one in the Super Bowl), why Brown stepped off the line of scrimmage one memorable game in St. Louis and wrapped his arms around a touchdown pass from kicker Adam Vinatieri.

That is why Larry Izzo, Je'Rod Cherry, Davis, and so many others -- some of them starters -- were ferocious on special teams, where rarely the spotlight shines. It's why Lonie Paxton was devoted to his skill as a long snapper and why Vinatieri continued to be pinpoint with his golden right foot.

They were 53 men, no egos, one mission.

Even the man who put them all in motion had to tip the hood of his sweatshirt to them.

"They stepped up every week against good competition," said Belichick. "It was a lot of sweat, a lot of blood left on that field, a lot of energy to go through. They've met all comers."