But it still wouldn't surprise me to see Whitner drag himself onto the field against the Browns. He is a team leader and a Cleveland native to boot. It has to be killing him to think he might have to sit out a game on Monday night, the NFL's biggest national stage.

This is a pivotal moment in the Bills' season. They've lost three in a row and are in danger of falling out of contention in the AFC East. Whitner probably shouldn't even try to play. But he wants his teammates to know how much he burns to help them in their moment of crisis.

A year ago, it was Whitner who helped pull the Bills together before the Dallas game on Monday night. It was around that time that he and Jabari Greer decided to have players gather at Whitner's home to bond as a team.

I remember how emotional Whitner was before that game. He seethed about the Bills becoming a national punch line. He grabbed the front of his jersey and said Football was his craft. It was personal.

At any rate, this town was wired for that game last Oct. 8. The atmosphere at Ralph Wilson Stadium was electric well before game time, and a delirious, deafening din when the Bills picked off two Tony Romo passes and ran them back for touchdowns in the first half.

"I remember last year running out of the tunnel," recalled center Duke

Preston. "I could barely breathe heading over to the sideline because there was so much electricity and energy."

They blew the game in the final minute. But that was the night a bruised and broken young Bills team stood up and told the world they weren't going to take it anymore.

One year later, the Bills are in a similarly battered state. If this game had taken place three weeks ago, NFL pundits would be hyping them as a rising contender, a breakthrough team with an emerging star quarterback in Trent Edwards.

Instead, they've hit the skids. Something is missing. Thurman Thomas said they need a new attitude. Ron Jaworski, who watches more game tape than anybody, said the Bills seem shaken on film. Apparently, Whitner saw something, too.

"Donte saw it from his own couch last weekend," said defensive end Chris Kelsay. "He said it didn't look like we were having as much fun out there. You sit back and watch the film after the last couple of games and we aren't playing with as much emotion as we were in the earlier games."

Whitner is an emotional barometer for the Bills. He guaranteed they would make the playoffs. He tackled Oakland's Johnnie Lee Higgins from behind in the end zone because he felt Higgins was showboating. If Whitner thinks the Bills lack emotion, it carries weight.

The Bills haven't played with any evident passion in recent weeks. Like Jaworski, I suspect their confidence is waning. When athletes are getting beaten, you can see the life draining out of them. Belief goes only as far as your ability to win physical battles. Attitude suffers.

"You can say, 'Oh no, it's not different,' " said defensive tackle Kyle Williams. "It is. It is completely different. We don't like losing."

They have good reasons for doubt. Really, what are they doing well? They have nine sacks in their last eight games. They haven't had a run longer than 8 yards in their last two games. The defense has given up long, humiliating drives at the end of two straight games.

The Bills don't punish teams. They lack a physically menacing personality. In the Super Bowl days, someone would have smashed a locker by now, or maybe threatened a sportswriter.

"I think we're getting to a point where a lot of us just want to stand up and start screaming," Kelsay said.

They say they're still together and going to turn around. But they seem to be playing scared. They're coaching scared, too. Their play-calling has been awfully timid lately, as if the coaches don't trust their talent to make the big play.

Well, maybe it's time for something bold. I don't know, maybe a player actually getting in another player's face, or Perry Fewell sending the house, or Turk Schonert telling Edwards to air a few balls out. Maybe Dick Jauron could show more passion than a soap dish.

If they can't play with confidence and abandon on a Monday night at home, how far have they really come in a year? If they can't beat a bickering Browns team on the verge of playoff extinction, with Brady Quinn making his second career start, what does that say?

A year ago, the Bills walked off their home field as Monday night losers, after a monumental collapse. But they showed the country there was still something special about the NFL in Buffalo, a passion that screams through the TV screen.

If nothing else, they need to remind the country that there's nothing quite so emotionally charged, and so dangerous, as a Bills team when the world begins to count them out.

jsullivan@buffnews.com