The epitome of the journeyman quarterback, a vagabond passer who has spent time with four different franchises during eight NFL seasons, Indianapolis Colts backup Billy Joe Hobert can share his impressions of the league in general and of specific personnel from a wide-ranging and varied perspective.

As a guy who has shared a backfield but not a beer with both Edgerrin James and Ricky Williams, however, the colorful Hobert is rendered near-speechless when asked to dissect the pair of third-year veteran tailbacks. Even from an up-close and personal viewpoint, it seems, the running stars of the Indianapolis Colts and New Orleans Saints, respectively, are still a couple of mystery men.

	Edgerrin James has rushed for 3,262 yards and scored 35 touchdowns in his first two NFL season.

At least, relatively unspeaking, compared to most backs of their skill level.

"Both great players who are only going to get better," apprised Hobert of the 1999 first-round draft choices. "Other than that, I mean, what can you say?"

What to say, indeed, about two franchise-caliber backs who tend to speak volumes with their legs instead of their lips. And who, because of their suddenly juxtaposed positions in the '99 draft and disparate fortunes ever since, figure to be forever joined at the hip-pads by the legion of pundits who closely monitor their careers.

It is the destiny of the two players to be primarily viewed in tandem, their DNA eternally commingled on the same laboratory slide, and it began even months before the '99 draft. Standing in a corridor of the hotel where prospects bivouac for the NFL's draft combine sessions, two months before the lottery, James leaned against the wall and politely fielded questions about his professional aspirations.

And then an unsuspecting reporter wandered up in mid-interview, noticed the trademark dreadlocks dangling to near-shoulder length, and began what he thought was an innocent query with, "Uh, so Ricky ..."

... and, not surprisingly, the interview came to an abrupt conclusion.

His brow furrowed, his temperament explicably altered by the unwitting identity crisis, James hustled back to his hotel room, pausing only briefly to note, over his shoulder, "I am not Ricky, alright?"

OK, so the mistake, to most people, might be excusable. These two tailbacks, after all, are not exactly Penn and Teller. One isn't tall, the other short. One doesn't do all of the talking while the partner remains mute. They can both get invisible on occasion, instead of making other things disappear.

But to James, that predraft slight in '99 offered a graphic portrayal of how his celebrity existed largely within the shadow of Williams' persona, and he has spent the time since then attempting to outrun the eclipse and succeeded in record form.

From a physical standpoint, James and Williams actually aren't that difficult to parse. The former flashes a smile filled with more gold than they store in Fort Knox these days. The latter features more body piercings than one of those pink-haired, punk-honed Goth wannabes that attend the local high school with your kid. Peruse the numbers that each has posted in his first two NFL seasons, though, and that's where the biggest disparity lies, with James far outdistancing Williams' numbers.

In part because of injuries, including a broken leg that stymied him during what looked to be a breakout 2000 campaign, Williams has rushed for just 1,884 yards in two years. For most players, that might be an estimable amount. For the former Heisman Trophy winner, and a guy who completed his college career as the owner of 20 NCAA records and the all-time rusher in Division I-A annals, it seems a fairly pedestrian total.

Exacerbating the pressure on Williams, of course, is the king's ransom the Saints paid to acquire his draft rights. The former regime of coach Mike Ditka and general manager Bill Kuharich dispatched all of its '99 draft choices and three more selections in 2000 to the Washington Redskins to secure the back they regarded as the essential piece to a playoff puzzle, and the bar was immediately raised.

When the former University of Texas star faltered on the field, and then manifested a persona off it that could only be described as weird, the long-suffering fans of The Big Uneasy grew increasingly wary of Williams as a player and a person. It didn't help that Williams conducted most of his interviews, even one-on-one sessions with the national writers who trecked to New Orleans to see him, from behind the sanctuary of his facemask.

The helmet, and seemingly the cocoon from which he operated, seem to be passé now when it comes to reaching out to the public. With the Saints suddenly an emerging power in the league, Williams seems to comprehend now that the accompanying celebrity also carries a price tag that outweighs his reluctance for publicity.

"As long as people don't want to dig too deep, I don't mind (the publicity)," Williams said. "There are some things that should remain private, and some questions I will still choose not to get into, but I don't mind talking about football and this team. I think it can be a pretty special season (for both of us), and I'm looking forward to it."

While some eyebrows were raised when the Saints invested their first-round choice this April in former Mississippi standout tailback Deuce McAllister, and there were rumors New Orleans officials were dangling Williams in trade talks, this figures to be a season in which he becomes the team's offensive centerpiece. Had he not suffered the broken leg last year, Williams almost certainly would have posted a 1,300-yard season.

Playing behind one of the NFL's premier run-blocking offensive lines, a quintet of real roadgraders, Williams could put up huge numbers. Said offensive guard Wally Williams: "No way he won't get 1,500 yards at least."

If he does, that will finally move him into the select company James already enjoys. The only player in NFL history to have successive seasons of 1,500 rushing yards and also 500 receiving yards, James reached 2,500 rushing yards faster than all but one runner in NFL annals. He can become the first player to go over 1,400 rushing yards in each of his first three seasons, and has averaged 144 total yards from scrimmage per game.

	“	As long as people don't want to dig too deep, I don't mind (the publicity). There are some things that should remain private, and some questions I will still choose not to get into, but I don't mind talking about football and this team. ”
		— Ricky Williams

Colts general manager Bill Polian stunned many when he opted for James over Williams with the fourth overall choice in the '99 draft, but he knew exactly what he was doing. A workhorse in the running game, James is also a better receiver than most scouts realized and is a key in the Indianapolis passing attack.

In two seasons, he has logged all but 19 of the 775 carries by Indianapolis running backs. There is virtually no depth behind him, so James is typically forced to remain in a game even after the Colts have constructed insurmountable leads, which is fine with him.

"Every great back wants the ball," he said, "and I'm no different."

Unlike the reticent Williams, he is readily agreeable to interviews, although his replies tend to be stock. And he floated above the kind of wave-making for which Williams has been noted until this spring, when he skipped the Colts' so-called "voluntary" workouts and appeared on ESPN's "The Life" during one of those weekend sessions.

No one ever questioned James' work ethic or dedication to the game, but the television appearance and a magazine article published the same week, were ill-timed to say the least. In his appearance on "The Life," he spoke openly about staying up all night, doing weightlifting sessions at 3 a.m., and cautioned the cameraman he would need more tape. In the magazine feature, James hinted he might retire, or at least take a one-season hiatus, even before his current contract expires.

"I play hard and I need that time away from the game," James said.

It is a sentiment voiced in the past at times by Williams, who has flirted with a career in baseball, and seen his own dedication called into question. One thing that is certain is that nothing seems certain with the two backs. Both are poised, it seems, for big seasons in 2001, but neither will look too far beyond that.

"Let's face it," Williams said, "no one can predict the future."

Especially for these two mystery men.

Len Pasquarelli is a senior NFL writer for ESPN.com.