"They'll say Steve," Mark Pike said.

Of course they'll say Steve. Tasker, that is. He's a perennial Pro Bowler. Marv Levy, a long-time student of such matters, recently called him the greatest special-teams player of all time. He has his own TV show. He's a great athlete, and a nice, bright, handsome guy besides.

"He's become a folk hero," Pike said.

They'll say Steve, but they'll be wrong. Because the answer is Pike, the Bills' faceless, 30-year-old backup defensive end and special-teams stalwart.

Pike has been in Buffalo for seven seasons. He played in more than 100 consecutive games at one point, counting playoffs. Bruce DeHaven, the special teams coach, said he's just as important as Tasker. He said Pike graded out the highest of all his special teamers this year.

"Through the seven years I've been here," DeHaven said, "my rock has been Mark Pike."

You see this anonymous, 272-pound rock out there week after week, running headlong down the field on kicks, making plays. You turn to the person next to you and say, "Nice player, that No. 94." Could you pick him out of a lineup? Do you know a thing about him? I'm no better. I spoke to him Wednesday for the first time.

"It isn't all bad to be in the shadows," Pike said. "When you get all this exposure, a lot more is expected of you. Then more eyes watch you and there's more pressure on you to produce. "But as a competitive player, you do want some attention, and when you see you're not getting it, it kind of hurts you inside. I've got to be honest."

While Pike and I sat alone at his table, Tasker held court a couple of tables away. There were two dozen reporters around him, more than any other Bill. New York City writers. Sports Illustrated. All crowded around Mr. Special Teams.

"When people mention special teams, it's always Steve," Pike said. "They never mention me in that same breath. We're friends. We have a good relationship. But it's kind of tough sometimes."

He's not as bitter as it sounds. He knows he's been fortunate to find a niche on special teams and earn a good living. But when you get to bare your soul once every seven years or so, things will come pouring out.

Silence and humility come naturally when you're the son of a preacher. Pike's father, Harold, who played basketball at Louisville, is the pastor at a Baptist church in Covington, Ky., just across the Ohio River from Cincinnati.

It's the classic small-town tale. Pike's mother, Martha, played the piano and organ in church. His wife, Sharon, was his high school sweetheart. He was an all-state fullback at Dixie Heights High in Edgewood.

Here at Georgia Tech, he played a year at tight end before switching to defense. He played "stand-up" end opposite Pat Swilling. Even then Pike was a supporting player, lost in the shadow of more athletically gifted teammates.

"I was kind of like I am now," he said. "I worked hard. My best quality was consistency. I didn't do anything flashy. I was a steady player you could depend on -- a lot of the same qualities I have now on special teams."

He never made all-conference. He didn't attend the draft combines or play in any all-star games. But veteran Bills scout Chink Sengel, a life-long Kentucky resident, worked him out and was impressed by his speed and size.

Pike can still hear Sengel saying, "Man, you're my sleeper! We're going to draft you."

He was one of Buffalo's three seventh-round picks in 1986, the Ronnie Harmon draft. They saw him as an inside linebacker, but switched him to defensive end. He's been Bruce Smith's nominal backup ever since. Talk about being in the shadows. But DeHaven quickly discovered Pike had a special calling.

"I don't know if anyone his size has ever played as well on special teams," DeHaven said. "I mean, I can count on him to be in exactly the right place. I know the young guys look to him as an example, because no one prepares harder."

For many young NFL players, the special teams are a transitional place, a first apartment. But for a few, like Tasker and Pike, they become a home. They keep you in the game.

"I'm happy for the most part, he said. "Marv (Levy) has given me an opportunity to play for a long time. I'm one of the guys who's the glue that holds the pieces of the puzzle together. I do some of the things the other players wouldn't want to do."

Not memorable, heroic things. He hasn't scored a touchdown since high school. The biggest play he's made in Buffalo was a hit that allowed the Bills to recover an onside kick in the Houston playoff miracle last year.

It would be nice to make a similar play in the Super Bowl. He's imagined it many times.

"I think about causing a fumble," he said.

And then?

"And Steve picks it up and runs for a touchdown."