A story with a hook

Mitchell is unfazed by lack of attention

By Kevin Paul Dupont, Globe Staff, 1/30/2002

NEW ORLEANS - Everyone in the world has a fish story. Anglers big and small boast about their great catches, almost as much as they bemoan the ones that shook the hook.

Patriots defensive lineman Brandon Mitchell grew up around here, born and raised in Abbeville, La., and he has an alligator tale. It's his uncle's story, really, and the catch of the day didn't get away.

''It was something like 4 in the morning, and my uncle wakes up to all this noise out in the garage, dog barking and everything,'' Mitchell recalled yesterday, standing at the edge of the Superdome, less than a two-hour drive from where he played his boyhood ball. ''Out goes my uncle, takes one step toward the garage, and there's the alligator, mouth open wide, snapping at him.''

Back in the house went Mitchell's uncle. If the bountiful marshes along the Gulf of Mexico were serving up a blue-plate special on a garage floor, then who was he to pass up such a drive-through culinary opportunity?

''He went in the house, got a gun, and killed him,'' recalled Mitchell, convincing a somewhat skeptical passerby. ''I'm not kiddin' ya, man, shot him. Next thing you know, he's in the pot - in the pot! - we eat alligators here, come on, man.''

It was Media Day, and the Patriots and Rams were trotted out en masse for the sporting world's biggest meet-and-greet. In the sea of stories being told, the 6-foot-3-inch Mitchell was not the biggest fish. Defensive linemen typically don't draw much of a crowd, anyway, and for the most part, the 26-year-old tackle whiled away his hour at the anonymous edge of the field.

Five years into his career, one too often interrupted by injury, Mitchell hardly has commanded a lot of attention, and Media Day did not cast the spotlight across his broad shoulders. Hard to figure, given his blocked field goal in the AFC Championship game against the Steelers.

''Doesn't bother me at all, I really don't care,'' said Mitchell, when someone noted that he wasn't getting the attention accorded the likes of, say, Tom Brady, Lawyer Milloy, or even third-string quarterback Damon Huard. ''I'm not into no `Hey, look at me.' Uh-uh. I am a very laid-back, low-key, quiet guy. I just do my job.''

Work. Steady, dependable, game-to-game employment. For that, Mitchell is thankful, so appreciative in fact that he all but pinched himself as he stood slightly to the side of the spectacle for the 60 minutes inside the dome. He was home. He had a date to play in the biggest game of the NFL season. He had 15 tickets waiting for family, devoted grandmother included, to make the 90-minute drive down from home Sunday just to see the pride of Abbeville High.

And most of all, he had his health, only some 13 months after being told his career likely was finished.

''I mean, initially, they told me the odds were against me,'' recalled Mitchell, thinking back to Dec. 4 last season, his year finished the second he ruptured the tendon that held his right quadriceps in place. ''So to be here now, after all the hard work to make it back ... it is unbelievable, it's overwhelming. Man, it's a blessing. I can't ask for more. It's a Cinderella year.''

What does an Abbeville boy do when he lands in Louisiana to play in the Super Bowl? He goes to Abbeville. When the Patriots landed here early yesterday afternoon, he immediately hopped in a car and drove home for dinner at grandma's house. For the record, Daisy Ursin's menu did not include his uncle's free-range dish du jour.

''Never did eat alligator,'' Grandma said yesterday. ''But they're everywhere 'round here. That must have been his uncle Norman who shot it, but I didn't see it. I don't want to see no alligator. Tastes like fish, I guess. I know it looks like fish.''

His sisters by his side, Mitchell ate grandma Ursin's roast and okra, corn and shrimp until he could eat no more. Family, friends, and neighborhood buddies stopped by all night to congratulate him and talk about the thrill of being on the field Sunday. It wasn't until 3 a.m. that his two teenage sisters finally called it a night, and Mitchell wasn't sure if they answered the morning bell to make it to school. To be here on time, he was on the road by 6 a.m., a start that allowed him a coffee stop halfway down I-10.

''Everyone at home's looking for tickets,'' said Mitchell. ''I told 'em all last night, `Uh-uh.' I just said, `Hey, I can't help you.' My grandma, she told my mother to put a sign on the front lawn, `No Tickets!'''

Marilyn Mitchell, by her son's account, worked long hours to support her family, leaving it to Daisy Ursin and her husband to care for him and his siblings after school and on weekends. His grandma was squeamish about sports, and wanted him to get his education in the classroom rather than on the football field.

''To be something other than a football player,'' she explained. ''But that was Brandon: football, baseball, every kind of ball. And I'd be praying he didn't get hurt. I'm still praying. When you're on that field, you know, those other players, they're trying to hurt you all the time.''

If she is here Sunday, Ursin will be saying her prayers. She woke up Sunday with awful pain in her leg, and was still struggling to get around yesterday. Old age, she figures, or maybe the effects of a car wreck she was in years ago.

''It hurts her bad, she's complaining about it, but she is still going to make it to my game,'' said her gridiron grandson. ''That means so much to me, because my grandmother is like my mom, she is my world, she means everything to me.''

Mitchell's own troublesome right leg, banged up so severely last December that the quad muscle rolled up like a window shade when the tendon ruptured, now is of little concern. He played in all 16 games in the regular season, started 11 of them, and finally blossomed into the player the Patriots thought they were getting when they made him the 59th pick overall in the '97 draft. He has the kind of size and speed that can put some pressure on Rams quarterback Kurt Warner.

''I can't regret nothing - I am happy about everything, the way things turned out,'' he said. ''You don't understand how I feel - to go through the whole season without having an injury, knock on wood, because this is my first season able to finish without an injury. Every year I've been here in New England, I had an injury, and it just is wonderful for me. I am so happy right now.''

A healthy body. An enthusiastic outlook. A belly full of grandma's cookin'. A chance to chisel his name in immortality on Sunday. It may sound a little like a fish story of its own, and it's certainly one Mitchell doesn't want to let get away.