01:00 AM EST on Wednesday, January 7, 2004

FOXBORO -- Ted Washington and Ted Johnson broke their legs earlier this season.

Not to be outdone, Mike Vrabel fractured an arm.

Joe Andruzzi plays each week with a couple of surgically repaired knees and a body full of brittle joints, the after-effects of some weird virus that afflicted him in 2002.

Ty Law? The best corner in the league from 1997 through 2003 has had shoulder and abdominal surgeries during his career. Earlier this year, he nearly snapped an ankle against the Jets. But he stuck around for the rest of that game to shut down Santana Moss. The next week, he chased Laveranues Coles all over the field in Washington. The week after that, he sealed a win over Tennessee by intercepting a Steve McNair pass and returning it 65 yards for a touchdown.

Did someone mention Steve McNair? Probably. Around the NFL these days, it's morally wrong to discuss injuries and not invoke the name of the Patron Saint of Gimpiness. And if one believes what he reads, sees and hears, none of these brittle Patriots can hold a candle to the NFL's greatest gladiator -- McNair.

At least that's the way it's been made to seem.

During Tennessee's Wild Card win over Baltimore last Saturday, ESPN analysts Paul Maguire and Joe Theismann were over the moon every time McNair blinked.

"He's hurt," said one Patriot who caught the on-air canonization of McNair. "So are the other 52 guys on his team."

"Nobody's 100 percent," Patriots linebacker Willie McGinest said yesterday. "Everybody's a little banged up, but if it's not enough to keep you off the field, don't complain about it. It's the nature of the game. I don't think he's always as hurt as they say. That's just my opinion."

It's not McNair's fault that he's injury prone (he somehow injured his right calf against the Falcons this year without getting hit), but the fawning media needs to be brought back to reality. Excessive drooling over McNair's ability to play well with pain ignores a simple fact of NFL life. By this time of year, to borrow a line from R.E.M, everybody hurts.

"Not the way he is," argued ESPN's Mike Patrick the play-by-play man on Saturday's telecast. "His injury was bad enough to warrant attention on several levels. It limited his running, which is a huge part of what he does and how effective that offense is. Both of his legs are hurt, one with a cracked bone spur, the other a torn calf muscle. He re-injured one in the second quarter, then hurt the other one five minutes later. That will affect a quarterback planting, it will affect his throwing and it will affect his mobility."

So at least that explains why Theismann and Maguire prattled on for so long. What's everyone else's excuse? A Google search of the words "Steve McNair" and "warrior" yielded 1,060 results. "Steve McNair" and "injury" produced 30,000 results. That "Steve McNair" and "gladiator" brought less than 1,000 hits can be chalked up to the fact that most sports writers steer clear of big words.

At 6-foot-2, 235 pounds, McNair is tough. The league's co-MVP, McNair is wildly talented. But it's getting to the point where he's more appreciated for being able to play hurt than he is for being able to play well.

It's the nature of the position, said Law.

"He's been so banged up over a period of time and he goes out and plays well," Law said. "His injuries are legit, but being the quarterback, you're going to get more press than most other positions. Nobody wants to hear about a limping cornerback."

And, at this point, nobody wants to hear any more about a limping quarterback.