Though he's gained 739 yards rushing in four years (averaging 5.2 yards per run) Plunkett prefers not to run with the ball. "I don't mind running on the option play, but would rather pitch out," he says. "I can't do it 10 or 15 times a game. I'd rather not take that kind of punishment."

But he's certainly endured the beatings. During the summer before his freshman year at Stanford, he had a tumor removed from his neck and doctors thought he'd never be able to play again. Since then, he's had two operations on his knees, broken his ribs several times, and suffered other minor injuries.

The injuries and operations and Plunkett's description of himself as a "day to day person" make the spectre of a sudden end to his career a real one. And though he says that he can't worry about what will happen in the future, he admits that lacking any long-range plans is a "pitfall." He simply accepts pain as a fundamental part of his profession. "You always play hurt. Most athletes play hurt."

Plunkett has also become desensitized to the mental pain of losing a game over the years. He says that he was "depressed, discouraged and questioned my own abilities" during his first couple of years with the Pats. "For awhile, [losing] hurt me just as bad and hit me just as hard as it did when I was younger because I took it so personally. But I fell I've overcome that somewhat."

Then again, it's easier to overcome losing when you're doing less of it than in previous years. The support and devotion of Patriots fans also helps. According to Plunkett, "Fans everywhere are fickle," but Boston fans are more "fanatical" than California fans. "They know their sports. They're more knowledgeable than a lot of fans throughout the country because they follow it so much more."

"Massachusetts has relatively few big-time college sports in basketball, football, or baseball. Except Harvard always wins its division in baseball but after that doesn't do anything. Since there are fewer college teams to follow here, people follow the pros."

"Boston is a good place to play for an athlete. Sure, I'd like to play out west. My friends and family are there. But I don't have the choice. And even if I played with San Francisco when I got out of college, I probably wouldn't have been able to play right away."

Plunkett's west coast bias seeps through when he admits his preference for California women, apologizes for knowing next-to-nothing about hockey, and complains about Boston weather: "I just can't stand the cold. It drives me crazy."

But besides the Boston cold, Plunkett has been dismayed by the goings-on in South Boston. He's not nearly as outspoken about the issue as teammate "Mini Mack" Herron, who has publicly denounced busing opponents Councilwoman Louise Day Hicks and School Committee Chairman John Kerrigan. Plunkett says," I think it's a sad situation. There should be more understanding. I want busing to work. Desegregation should start when kids are very young rather than later in their lives."

As for racial tension in professional football, he explains, "Racial problems are overlooked somewhat in football because people simply don't want to get cut. You hear about some teams that don't have a racial situation. If a black is ahead of a white and a white bitches or vice versa, the team is not going to be one of the best to play for."

"But our team seems to be a fairly cohesive unit. Of course, there are the cliques. Blacks mostly hang around with blacks and whites with whites. I'm the only Mexican, so I can go either way."

He may not have a strong Chicano identification or admonish disputes between teammates, but he likes to regard his profession as a controversial one, as he says sportscaster Howard Cosell does. "I like Howard. I think he's added a lot to sport broadcasting because he's controversial with his attitude that 'a sport is just a microcosm of life.' People hated him at first, but they continued to listen to him."

Still, Jim Plunket is one of the less polemical of personalities in the sports world. His devotion to his profession is unquestioned. If he has a free evening, away from reviewing films or an oversized playbook, he might spend it reading and listening to Stevie Wonder or eating at Himmy's Harborside or Charlie's. But he generally shies away from the limelight and prefers to have "little get-togethers" with teammates or friends from Stanford, including his old-time friend and favorite receiver Randy Vataha.

Another Stanford chum says of Plunkett, "He always has struck me as being more boring than exciting. He's a really shy, edgy guy. But he's loosened up a lot within the past few years."

Perhaps the "loosening up" is a prelude to Plunkett's abandonment of his solemn, almost humorless tone. But it will take some time, if ever, for the dichotomy between Plunkett the offensive player and Plunkett the defensive man to become less distinctive.

As for the off-season, when his uniform is locked up somewhere in Schaeffer Stadium, he'll be taking it easy in San Jose with his mother. and maybe it is only then that the quiet and somber Jim Plunkett can best be understood as a complete man.