Define Gutsy?

At moment in which the NFL and its fans are the most starry-eyed, the dreams of the Draft still weaving their finger-crossed hopes, I find myself vaguely recalling dreams from which we've woken up.

Or at least the news that Byron Leftwich latching on with Tampa and Daunte Culpepper slimming down in Detroit has me remembering a time when both represented a new if slightly unnerving development in our idea of the prototypical quarterback.

I am, of course, talking about the fat man as quarterback.

Football has no shortage of exceedingly large men. Size has been a prized rarity since the sport's earliest days. The game with its neurotic concerns over accountability - you take that man, I got this guy - has always had a place for a rhinoceros who can occupy two or three opposing players, freeing up others to run unabated with or to the ball.

But as some point, as the game sped up and a rare size became bigger and beefier, size developed skill, too. The myriad hand fights a defensive tackle and offensive guard must wage underscores just how intricate the big man positions have become at the highest level.

Despite the developing skill of line play, however, big men were for the most part relegated to those same positions, defensive tackle and end, center, guard, and offensive tackle. There were, of course, a couple exceptions to the rule - Ironhead Heyward, anyone? - but for the most part size meant line play from an early age.

I remember the moment when the notion of a prototypical quarterback really took hold. Drew Bledsoe was supposed to be everything a quarterback can be. Six foot five. Two hundred and forty muscular pounds. Cannon arm. Limited mobility but superior reach. Pocket passing was shortly to be perfected by these rare creatures.

It was the early 90s and I felt a little put out that these gangling monsters would make quarterbacks like the Packers' Brett Favre or 49ers' Steve Young obsolete. It seemed conceivable at that moment that size would price 6'2" quarterbacks with moxie out of the future. (And Young especially while listed at 6'2" couldn't have been more than 6' exactly.)

The revolution never really came though. Sure, Peyton Manning's experienced wild success while encased in the rudiments of that prototypical frame (save the less-than-chiseled pecs). And Tom Brady was a string bean upon entering the NFL, building his slight frame into something more. But the Drew Bledsoe's came and went. Sure, Joe Flacco appears to be on the verge of promising career. But how does Carson Palmer's future look?

For the most part, the monsters never really stormed the village. The league's best passing veteran last season was smurfy Drew Brees. (And, no, I wouldn't say that to his face.)

Somewhere along the way, though, another development in the ideal quarterback sprang forth, the linemen-sized quarterback, one who could ward off the blows of defensive ends like King Kong and fighter planes.

The rational was somewhat sound. The rarest skill set belonged to the quarterback. No matter if a player has the size to the man the interior of the line, if he can run an offense with a big arm, place him behind center not at center.

In 2004, both Daunte Culpepper and Byron Leftwich had their statistically best seasons. Culpepper was a credible MVP candidate even in a year when Peyton Manning broke the touchdown record. Leftwich had the Jaguars on the verge of a playoff berth with his tough but immobile play.

Put the rhino at quarterback! Watch him bulldoze any would-be rushers. Hell, the success of Culpeppers and to a lesser degree Leftwich probably is directly responsible for Jared Lorenzen, the Pillbury Throwboy himself, being drafted.

Yet, just as quickly as it seemed the prototypes would truly become monsters, Culpepper and Leftwich toppled, both felled by leg injuries, robbing of them of their mobility. Lorenzen has probably ate himself out of the leauge. And JaMarcus Russell is on the cusp of a make-or-break season just two years after signing a fittingly ridiculously large rookie contract.

Only Ben Roethlisberger has experienced any sustained success as in the rhino-at-QB model. Consider, too, that he's only posted one truly elite season and been surrounded by a stellar supporting cast and ferocious defense.

I don't know how Leftwich will do at the Buccaneers. I don't know how Culpepper will fare in Detroit. I thought both showed plenty of promise last season in limited action. But like the weight these big guys carry, I'm inclined to think that the performance of a big QB fluctuates much like said QB's bathroom scale. The can be terrifying... and terrifyingly inconsistent.