HEMPSTEAD, N.Y. -- To most of the media members and New York Jets alums along the sideline Friday morning, the play was little more than an afterthought, a meaningless touchdown pass that came toward the conclusion of a 90-minute walkthrough session as the club completed preparations for a Saturday night preseason contest.

For first-year head coach Herman Edwards, however, the scoring play -- on which backup quarterback Chad Pennington improvised by rolling to his right and then rifling a laser to wide receiver Windrell Hayes in the right front corner of the end zone -- was just another excuse to do what he most enjoys doing.

	Herman Edwards was an assistant to Tony Dungy for five years in Tampa Bay.

It was, Edwards decided, the latest opportunity to teach.

And so, five minutes after the rest of the team had left the field and headed for a barbecue luncheon that was part of "Family Day" here, Edwards assembled his core of cornerbacks and reviewed the touchdown pass. Time and again, he simulated the rollout of Pennington, each time directing players to where they should have been, counseling them on how the pass should have been better defended.

A onetime cornerback himself, and veteran of 10 seasons on the field, he mildly rebuked his secondary for giving up on the play. "Never assume anything and never go half-speed after the football," Edwards said.

And then to reinforce his point, Edwards reached back for a bit of NFL history, quietly reminding the players of "The Catch," the Joe Montana-to-Dwight Clark miracle play on which the San Francisco 49ers defeated the Dallas Cowboys in the 1981 NFC title game. Not once, though, did Edwards raise his voice above a near-whisper and, with the lesson teached and the gospel preached, he trotted off to handle interview responsibilities and to glad-hand some of the former "Gang Green" players who had come out to watch practice and nosh a bit.

Within that 10-minute span, insisted Jets tailback Curtis Martin, anyone watching closely witnessed all they need to know about the team's rookie head coach.

"He loves teaching and football," Martin said, "and he loves getting to know people. As much as he can about them. A lot of coaches will say the right things, tell the players how they want to know them better, what makes them tick, but he means it. There is a certain sincerity about him that is refreshing. You feel like he's interested in you as a player and as a person."

Edwards, 47, is actually the franchise's fourth head coach in less than two years.

The autocratic Bill Parcells resigned following the '99 season, and then Bill Belichick decided that he was the heir-unapparent and abruptly quit after one day on the job, which then led to the ascension of Al Groh, who bolted last Dec. 29 to become head coach at the University of Virginia.

A man who still appears as if he could go out and play "press" coverage if the situation called for it, Edwards' taut body tightens even a little more when it is suggested that he is the anti-Parcells or the no-Groh, that his demeanor and reputation as a "player's coach" has significantly lightened the mood around here.

He is, Edwards pointed out, as disciplined and demanding as any head coach in the NFL, but he has to be his own man. And that means dealing with people professionally, taking care of details, holding people accountable, working hard and playing smart.

And he makes it clear early on, as he assumes an athletic crouch during an interview, that he isn't about to bash his predecessors.

"That this is a team of such good character already is a tribute to those men," he said. "I might do things a little differently, but that's just me, and it's not a reflection on what has happened here in the past. There's a good foundation here, guys who know how to play the game, and I didn't bring all of them in here."

For sure, the Parcells coaching tree retains deep roots in the Long Island enclave where the Jets practice, and that is not surprising. The shadow of "The Tuna" is longer than any silhouette of a shark lurking in the deeps.

But the men under whom Edwards apprenticed as a player and an assistant coach -- Dick Vermeil, Marty Schottenheimer, Tony Dungy -- have helped him to form a perspective that is his alone. A sum total of his environment over the past 20 years, Edwards is still a uniquely finished product.

Said Jerry Angelo, the first-year Chicago Bears general manager, who worked in Tampa Bay with Edwards for the past five years: "He's a guy who everyone loves, and he's not above kicking some (rear end) to get attention, believe me. But as a former player, he is aware of the fact you don't get results when you embarrass somebody. The thing is, no one should take that low-key persona and think he's not a high-energy guy. He loves the game and that really drives him."

Indeed, there seems to be legitimate substance to Edwards, who after serving five years as the assistant head coach to Dungy in Tampa Bay, became a very hot commodity earlier this year. The Detroit Lions, Cleveland Browns and expansion Houston Texans all gained permission to discuss head coaching vacancies with him, but it was the Jets who gained his services.

Given his religious beliefs, Edwards would never agree to a marriage of convenience, but even some close friends admit the wedding of he and the big-city Jets -- working now in an atmosphere where every decision he makes will be not only second-guessed but also magnified -- appeared at first to be an ill fit. That said, Edwards has willingly embraced the role of NFL ambassador here.

	“	Everyone has a job to do. I'm here to facilitate people doing their jobs and doing them well. That's a little bit about teaching, about caring, about making sure the things that need to get done, get done the right way. ”
		— Herman Edwards

Even that is a tad skewed, given his football history in this area, his starring role in one of the most infamous incidents in New York football history. It was 1978, oldtimers might remember, when instead of just kneeling on the ball with the lead and the clock running at under a minute, the New York Giants tried a running play. What ensued was a fumble that became known to Philadelphia Eagles fans as "The Miracle of the Meadowlands."

The man who scooped up the loose ball for the Eagles, and returned it for a touchdown with only 31 seconds left in the game, was Herman Edwards.

"People remember me for that around here," Edwards said, laughing. "I hope that in a few years, they remember me for something else, too."

He regularly invites strangers he meets on the street to come to practices. In the spring, he organized a day-long session with the media, where the reporters learned the intricacies of the salary cap and participated in on-field skills drills. He has reached out to the former New York players in the area, convened luncheons and events like the "Family Day" on Friday, made himself more accessible than his predecessors ever were.

Not that long ago, with this franchise, former head coach Pete Carroll tried some of the same things, and he was gone within a year. There is a palpable sense around here that Herman Edwards' tenure will be a lot longer than that.

Veteran writer Rich Cimini, the excellent beat reporter for The New York Daily News, suggested kiddingly in print that the Jets should dub the preseason "Camp Ed," given the more relaxed atmosphere under which every is working now. But there is a passion within Edwards that simmers beneath the surface, a feel for the game and for people.

A religious man, he noted that the person he most would like to have met before her death was Mother Teresa. He speaks of former NFL cornerback Charles Dimry, who took care of his children while his wife fought a battle with leukemia she eventually lost. This is a football man who is not all about football, a man who has planned for years to be a head coach, and knows well how to enact the blueprint.

"Everyone has a job to do," Edwards said. "I'm here to facilitate people doing their jobs and doing them well. That's a little bit about teaching, about caring, about making sure the things that need to get done, get done the right way."

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