LITTLE BIG MAN

Doug Flutie is not shrinking.

Sometimes it seemed that way, that he had almost disappeared, wandering north while taller, sulkier and hollow-hearted quarterbacks infested the NFL.

For a long time, Flutie was a faint figure, a fading memory of one collegiate last-second fling, a 5-foot-10 bundle of kinetic energy who measured up to every NFL qualification except height.

But, as he padded up to the podium this week, for some reason wearing socks and not shoes, Flutie, if anything, provided a presence that out-sized everything around him.

He does seem to grow on you.

Flutie has stepped in to lead the Buffalo Bills to two consecutive victories, capped by last Sunday’s pulsating, last-minute, 70-yard drive to beat the previously undefeated Jacksonville Jaguars--a victory that Ralph Wilson, the only owner the Bills have had, called “one of the greatest in team history.”

Flutie, who turned 36 Friday, is a folk hero again.

“Uh . . . for a week,” Flutie said, with a shrug. “For a week at a time. All it takes is one bad day. What have you done for me lately? That’s the way it works.

“I think my situation right now is a little bit different. Maybe I get a one-week grace period--maybe. Maybe I’ve been 6-1 for the last two weeks. But I throw a couple interceptions in next week’s game, and I’ll be 5-4 again.”

He is not dumb. None of the countless NFL executives who have ignored him over the past 14 years ever said Doug Flutie was stupid.

He has always been elusive, always had a strong arm, and always had a knack for conjuring dramatic victory from the clutches of defeat. (Flashback: November 1984, trailing against Miami, Hail Mary as time expired, Gerard Phelan grabs the pass in the end zone, Boston College victory.)

But he has always been about five inches shorter than NFL folk want in their quarterbacks, and always done kooky little things on the field such as invent lateral plays when none existed in the playbook, or jump up to get a better view over the linemen.

So Flutie had to start his career in the USFL before getting quick looks (and quick hooks) with the Chicago Bears and New England Patriots in the late 1980s, and spent the last eight years dominating the Canadian Football League.

While Flutie was playing for British Columbia, Calgary and Toronto (and winning six most-outstanding-player awards and three Grey Cups), down in the NFL, a parade of underachievers--Scott Mitchell, Heath Shuler, ad nauseam--were given millions, and given countless chances to fail, which they always seemed to do.

“I’d watch guys that struggle one place, get released and the next day find another team,” said Flutie, who will start for the second game in a row tonight at Carolina. “Someone else is going to give them that opportunity because they’re 6-4. . . . ‘He’s got the tools, we can make him a good quarterback.’

“That made me shake my head and get frustrated. Because I know that with me, it’s the opposite. The day I struggle, I’m going to be out of a job.”

And Kerry Collins, who pouted his way from a starting spot in Carolina to the waiver wire to the New Orleans Saints, will probably be in this league for a decade.

You decide who the bigger man is.

Mr. Popularity

There is something at work here beyond the superficial pieces of the Flutie frenzy--past the Flutie Flakes cereal that went on sale as soon as he signed last winter, past the Canadian fans who worship him for what he did in the CFL and will gladly drive over the border to roar for him here.

You see it when he’s dancing in the first row of Rich Stadium, when most of the crowd is singing along to the Monkees’ “I’m a Believer” at the end of the afternoon.

There is something about a mature man getting one last shot in the NFL, taking a minimum salary to do it ($250,000, when he had been earning $1 million in Canada), and getting a chance when 6-4 USC product Rob Johnson, whose importing from Jacksonville cost Buffalo first- and fourth-round draft choices and a five-year, $25-million contract, bruised his ribs.

“Doug Flutie is everything that’s right about America,” said Chuck Dickerson, the boisterous former Bill defensive line coach and current Buffalo talk-radio host. “He’s the underdog, he’s underpaid, he works hard, and he’s just been waiting for his opportunity.”

There is something there when Flutie does a jump-fake before tossing a ball into the end zone, barely broken up, or when Flutie heaves a 38-yard pass to Eric Moulds to get Buffalo in position for the go-ahead score against the Jaguars, then turns a broken play on fourth and goal into a sprint to the end zone with 13 seconds left.

And everybody sings.

“I’ve told him I want to be his agent or something,” Buffalo Coach Wade Phillips said. “He’s really the most popular guy I’ve ever been around. I’ve been around John Elway, people like that, but everywhere he goes, everybody recognizes him.”

Said offensive tackle Joe Panos: “There is a certain aura about him. He does make things happen, and we’re just hanging on for the ride.”

Even Johnson, whose last full game was a precision-passing performance to beat the San Francisco 49ers, understands the power of Flutie’s fan appeal.

“Oh, yeah, I mean, he’s a god up here in this country,” said Johnson, who is still sore, will not play today and might not be sound enough to kick up a good quarterback controversy for a couple of weeks.

“He’s everyone’s favorite--he’s the underdog. I understand how it is. The backup’s usually the best friend to everyone because the grass is always greener. It was that way in Jacksonville with me.

“Here it’s just magnified because it’s such a great story. I’m happy for the guy, going out and playing well. He was cast off, and he’s going out and playing well.”

A Good Fit

Look around the NFL, and which quarterbacks are flourishing? Randall Cunningham in Minnesota, Steve Young in San Francisco, Vinny Testaverde in New York. . . . None under 35.

For Flutie, who won the Heisman Trophy in 1984, who had last started an NFL game in 1989 and who has a 6-year-old son, Doug Jr., who is autistic, the last 14 years of his life and career enable him to place the current situation in perspective.

“You go to Winnipeg and go into that locker room, or Hamilton’s locker room, or be on a team where you don’t get paid for a year [as happened to Flutie during an Argonaut payroll crisis], work with guys where a handful of them are making 40 or 50 grand Canadian a year,” Flutie said. “They’re just happy to be on the field.

“Here, footballs are given away out of the locker room . . . must be a hundred footballs go out the door a day. I’ve seen in Winnipeg, you get your per diem for the road trip and with it the guys were getting coupons for $10 off.”

Flutie says he had plenty of chances the last eight years to return to the NFL, but he never felt right about them--each time, the team involved made him feel as though it was doing him a favor by considering him.

The Bills, maybe the only NFL team with a solid Canadian fan base, sought Flutie out after the 1997 season, and it felt different. The Bills, after the roaring early ‘90s and the retirement of Jim Kelly, are a team in transition.

Flutie is part of the transition.

“I said this coming in, this is gravy,” Flutie said. “This is icing on the cake. I feel like I’ve had a great career. I’ve had a 13-, 14-year career. . . . This is to do something different and to take that next challenge and try to win a Super Bowl.”

One last challenge. And, with Johnson out, Flutie has the ball in his hands, the clock ticking, and a whole wide field in front of him.

This is a folk hero’s moment. Watch him find a way.

“I just don’t like to lose,” Flutie said. “You believe when you step out on the field with 1:50 to go, we’re going to find a way to get it into the end zone. You’re just thankful for that one last opportunity and you’re going to find a way to get it done.

“A lot of times after the fact you kind of shake your head and say, ‘Well, we were a little lucky there or a little lucky here, but we got it done.’ ”