We weren't in the linebackers corner of the New England Patriots' old locker room to talk to Tedy Bruschi. Teddy Johnson and Chris Slade, with lockers next to Bruschi, were the go-to guys for insights after another win.

A few feet away and across the aisle, Willie McGinest was good for more pointed opinion and an occasional verbal hand grenade. Bruschi sat with his back to it all, mindful that he was the rookie. It was 1996, the season that ended with the loss to Brett Favre and the Packers in the Super Bowl.

Who knew that the smallish linebacker with the polite off-the-field demeanor would grow into one of the Patriots' finest leaders? Nobody, and that's the point as fans contemplate future game days without Tedy Bruschi.

Without Mike Vrabel and Rodney Harrison, too, for that matter. Suddenly the heart of this team is less than it once was. Or is it?

Careers in professional football are short. Someone goes down, another steps forward. "We play with who we have," Bruschi said again and again when a teammate was lost to injury. "We can't think about who's not on the field with us." He said that before his own lengthy absence from the Patriots' lineup in 2005 after the stroke that might have ended his career.

Remember those words when the Patriots open their season with Buffalo on Sept. 14. The expectation in the locker room is that someone will step up in their own way.

"Tedy's a pretty special guy," said Coach Bill Belichick on Tuesday, the day after Bruschi announced his retirement. "I don't think anybody is going to replicate him any more than I would have thought that somebody would come in and replicate Troy Brown.

"How this team develops its personality, leadership, how it integrates the chemistry of the team is something we'll all have to see. It's not something that can be legislated by a coach. That's something a team evolves into and it's not a straight line."

The Patriots won't lack for leadership. Not with Tom Brady, Richard Seymour and Vince Wilfork working the room, along with Kevin Faulk, the elder statesman.

But none are linebackers, the braintrust of the defense.

You can't think of the NFL's great teams without remembering their linebackers. Sam Huff and Lawrence Taylor of the New York Giants. Dick Butkus, Mike Singletary, Brian Urlacher of the Chicago Bears. Jack Ham and Jack Lambert of the Pittsburgh Steelers. Baltimore's Ray Lewis. Lee Roy Jordan of the Dallas Cowboys and Ray Nitschke of the Green Bay Packers.

Off the field, Bruschi never gave the impression he tore into raw meat for breakfast. The Patriots listed him at 6-foot-1, 247 pounds, but standing in front of his locker he didn't seem that big.

On the field he never lacked for intensity. My favorite Bruschi performance came in the 2005 playoff win over Peyton Manning's Indianapolis Colts. With Seymour and cornerback Ty Law out of the lineup, Bruschi, Vrabel and Harrison played with a fury that infected their teammates.

Bruschi recovered two fumbles, including one while he was tackling Dominic Rhodes. The Patriots won, 20-6. "It wasn't just the (defensive) scheme," said Colts receiver Brandon Stokley afterward, "it was the execution."

Then there was that early December game in 2003, played while a snowstorm dumped its last few inches. Bruschi returned an interception for a touchdown and fans celebrated by throwing snow in the air. From above in the press box, it looked like cascading fireworks. Bruschi laughed at the sight.

Ego? He didn't have one in 1996 or years later with three Super Bowl rings. He was confident and tough but never lost touch with his humanity. His stroke made him vulnerable and his return made him the best example of perseverance and faith.

Someone will replace Bruschi and it won't be an even swap. Not at first.

Staff Writer Steve Solloway can be contacted at 791-6412 or at: ssolloway@pressherald.com