He was nicknamed The Glacier, a plodding man charting a course to nowhere.
His buffoonery became the stuff of legend. He was an awkward soul devoured in shark-infested waters.
He turned One Jets Drive into the Kremlin, a green-and-white fortress filled with bad ideas. He was a stubborn and paranoid penny-pincher. He was a glorified accountant masquerading as a football guy.
When a team official was asked by a player-agent to go to Career Day at a local school to give kids a glimpse at life in the NFL, he chastised the co-worker for daring to cross enemy lines.