PITTSFORD, N.Y. -- In the next-to-last row of the bleachers at St. John Fisher College on Saturday morning, where this scribe had climbed to get a bird's-eye perspective on the Cleveland Browns-Buffalo Bills scrimmage, the air of expectation was palpable.

And so it was no surprise that, when Buffalo quarterback Drew Bledsoe dropped into the pocket for his first pass attempt, one could actually sense the army of Bills' loyalists that had packed the tiny campus move as one to the edge of their seats. There was, honestly, a collective inhale when Bledsoe cut loose with his first pass attempt against a secondary comprised of something other than teammates.

And an undercurrent groan as the laser flew errantly by its intended receiver.

"Looked like the guy might have run the wrong (pass route)," unabashed Bills fan Terry Lawrence noted to his buddy, Jeff Varner, who nodded in agreement. "It'll take 'em time to get on the same page, you know?"

	Bledsoe could make a huge difference in Buffalo.

Fortunately for Bledsoe, the expatriate ex-New England Patriot who has re-energized the Bills and resurrected his own career, everyone else in Western New York seems not only to be on the same page as him, but also eager to turn to what they all assume should be a magical chapter in franchise history. It is not the first time Bledsoe, acquired in a ballyhooed draft day trade, has donned the mantle of savior. This time, however, the garment fits so much better. And if it didn't, chances are good some grandmotherly-type Buffalo fan, needle in hand, would volunteer to handle the alterations.

Had the author of the wayward pass on Saturday morning been Rob Johnson, maybe even Doug Flutie, jeers almost certainly would have rained down from the crowded bleachers. But somewhat fittingly, on the very day when the franchise's last great quarterback and unchallenged leader was being inducted into the Hall of Fame, the torch was passed. Just as fitting, Bledsoe got a hot hand against a talented Cleveland secondary, reeling off five straight completions before exiting after one series to a standing ovation.

There may never be, as long as they play football in these parts, a quarterback who can rival Kelly's popularity. In the Rust Belt, he was the human personification of a can of Rust-Oleum, a tough and gutsy blue-collar performer with the heart of a linebacker and the soul of the common man. But in less than four months, and without rifling a single pass in a regular-season game, Bledsoe has come close. To the hamlets like Hamburg and Lackawanna and, yeah, Orchard Park, he has delivered hope again.

And for Bledsoe, thanks to the indefatigable persistence of Buffalo general manager Tom Donahoe, who engineered lengthy trade discussions that culminated in the Bills giving up their first-round choice in the 2003 draft, there has been delivered dignity again.

"Sure, it's nice to be wanted," said Bledsoe, who further cemented his relationship with the fans on Saturday by hustling off to Kelly's induction ceremony in Canton, Ohio. "I don't know any player alive who, given his choice, wouldn't want to be liked. It's been gratifying to be accepted, by my teammates and the fans and everyone, really, the way me and my family have been. But I've been around long enough to know that there's a lot more to it than this. But, yeah, we've been made to feel very much at home."

That he has been so immediately embraced by the Buffalo franchise and its fans is due in no small part to the fact Bledsoe has figuratively bear-hugged the community in a way his predecessors never did.

While some of the fans took to Flutie, away from the public scrutiny the veteran was a consummate locker room provocateur and crafty politician, and many teammates saw him as a man not to be trusted. Johnson's moxie was admired by some Bills players, but he never made the emotional connection with the fans, a Southern California surfer dude who was more a dud. Neither of the quarterbacks ever sunk deep roots into the city, and Johnson didn't even lease an apartment during his four seasons in Buffalo, preferring to live in a posh hotel suite.

Flutie was the interloper, the big-city Boston hero relegated to the football hinterlands. Johnson was an accidental tourist, a guy who might have gotten lost on his way to visit nearby Niagara Falls, and just happened to wind up in a Bills uniform.

So enter Bledsoe, the nine-year veteran who played just two regular-season games after sustaining a severe chest injury in 2001, yet who climbed off the bench in the AFC title game to lead the Patriots to the Super Bowl when his surrogate, Tom Brady, suffered a sprained ankle. His $100 million contract aside, the perception he was yesterday's news in some NFL precincts notwithstanding, his arrival in Buffalo has been treated as if it were The Second Coming.

	“	Sure, it's nice to be wanted. I don't know any player alive who, given his choice, wouldn't want to be liked. It's been gratifying to be accepted, by my teammates and the fans and everyone, really, the way me and my family have been. But I've been around long enough to know that there's a lot more to it than this. ”
		— Drew Bledsoe

"I feel like part of it is that he's a guy to whom people can relate," said Bills fullback Larry Centers. "There's this obviously human side to him. He's got a real easy smile. He may not be the most outgoing guy, and the guard is up sometimes, but he's certainly not (aloof), either. And suddenly, after what happened to him (last year), he's an underdog kind of, you know? People are always interested in a guy who gets knocked down and is trying to get up again. People love the story of a guy getting a second chance, no matter what he does for a living, because a lot of them have been in the same situation. Plus, he's just a good person, a really good person. He (instills) confidence in you and he is the kind of guy you want to play hard for."

Just after the draft, at a rookie orientation, Bledsoe pulled first-round selection Mike Williams aside and told the offensive right tackle how much he needed him. Williams would throw himself on a grenade for Bledsoe now, run through a wall for him.

Running out from the cover of the Bills 2002 media guide, into your living rooms and into your hearts, Buffalo, is Bledsoe in a familiar No. 11 jersey. In a bit of artiness, there is a cloud effect behind him in the picture, yet there is nothing hazy about Bledsoe and what he means to the Bills and the Buffalo community.

He appears to be the football equivalent of Roy Hobbs, of "The Natural," complete with the flaws that must be overcome. The first overall selection in the 1993 draft, Bledsoe has passed for 29,657 yards, been to three Pro Bowl games, started in one Super Bowl and helped New England advance to the title game a year ago. But throughout much of his career, there has been a sense that something was missing for Bledsoe, and, indeed, that he was missing some key component as well.

Bledsoe may well find himself in Buffalo and the Bills seem to have finally located a focal point for a franchise that has seemed out of focus in recent seasons. Certainly, for reasons not all of his own making, Bledsoe had worn out his welcome with the Patriots.

The team had become Brady's team, and not even his close relationship with owner Bob Kraft could salvage his New England tenure, not once coach Bill Belichick had decided the younger quarterback was his guy. The trade, made grudgingly by Kraft, was a sort of accommodation for everyone. Belichick was not about to have Brady playing with his head on a swivel, looking back for Bledsoe every time he went through a short stretch of scattershot inaccuracy. Still believing himself to rate among the top handful of passers in the league, Bledsoe wasn't about to grow old sitting on the New England bench.

"The bottom line," Bledsoe said, "was that (the trade) was best for everyone involved. It's a win-win situation and I knew that from the first time they started talking about it."

Without really having gotten to know him yet, the good 'burgers of Buffalo feel as if they have nonetheless known Bledsoe all his life, because they sense his values dovetail well with their own. He may be high profile on the field, but Bledsoe is definitely low key off it, and that sells well in the Western New York villages where the fans' wintertime spirits rise and fall with Bills' performances.

The fans like the fact that Bledsoe married his college sweetheart. That his best friend is his younger brother. That he has funded a foundation, administered principally by his mom and dad, to foster better parenting. And that, when his agent phoned him on draft day to apprise him the much-anticipated trade to the Bills was completed, he chose not to immediately address the deal's ramifications until his son, John, was out of the hospital, where he was being treated for a respiratory infection.

When he finally arrived in Buffalo, hailed as the conquering hero, Bledsoe said all the right things, thanked all the right people, made himself immediately at home. For a fan base that witnessed four straight Super Bowl appearances, but which has not advanced beyond the second round of the playoffs since 1993, Bledsoe is the most tangible sign for a potential return to halcyon days.

"He was the guy we had to have," said Donahoe, who prefers to build through the draft, but understood he needed a big centerpiece for a still unfolding puzzle. "Both as a player and a man, he was the perfect fit. He brings us instant legitimacy."

Whether he will bring an instant postseason berth remains to be seen but, on Saturday as the Bills were concluding their scrimmage and Bledsoe was already en route to Canton, it was difficult to convince diehard Bills fans they shouldn't begin dreaming about playoff appearances on a regular basis again

Certainly the potentially explosive wide receiver tandem of Eric Moulds and Peerless Price is enhanced by Bledsoe's presence. The running game, keyed by second-year back Travis Henry, should be better because of the passing attack complement. A reshuffled line, which must protect the relatively immobile Bledsoe, seems fired up by the challenge of keeping him perpendicular. The defense, despite a dearth of talent upfront, is young and aggressive.

For the most part, The Donahoe Way consists of laying a foundation through the draft, and the Bills have two consecutive bounties on which to build. But every team needs a veteran cornerstone and, now that Bledsoe has been cemented into place, the expectations for the franchise have increased exponentially.

Always more wary than witty, Bledsoe is quick to sound a cautionary tone when granted the opportunity, but it is also obvious his competitive flames have been re-stoked by his relocation. His family is settled, his heart at peace, and football is fun again. And he is starting to believe that, just maybe, there are a few exceptions to the old rule that you never get a second chance to make a good impression.

"You want to win for these people," Bledsoe said, referring to the fans, his teammates, the organization still led by venerable owner Ralph Wilson Jr. "And you want to win for yourself, too, you know?"

Len Pasquarelli is a senior NFL writer for ESPN.com.