In this high-tech age, we're constantly bombarded by promises of the "next big thing." Most of the time, the product fails to live up to the propaganda—but every once in awhile the hype is for real, and we find ourselves whispering the consumer's prayer:

Man, I've got to get me one of those.

The same goes for the NFL Draft. Between the combines, the camps, and the Mel Kiper preview shows, most players get marketed well beyond their merits. Every now and again, though, a real gem comes along—and the team who finds him picks up the rights to the next big thing.

Exhibit A— Larry Johnson and the Kansas City Chiefs.

While Priest Holmes was lighting up the fantasy boards in Kansas City, the Chiefs were secretly harboring a new-age biological marvel.  They had in their possession a running back unlike any the league had ever seen, one with the skills, specs, and mind-set to revolutionize the game. When Holmes went down with a strained MCL in 2004, the beast was unleashed.

December 19, 2004: Larry Johnson starts his first NFL game. The Broncos were in town and had no idea what they were up against. All they knew is that it wouldn't be Priest Holmes—and anyone would be preferable to Priest Holmes, right?

Wrong.

Johnson's final stat line: 30 carries, 151 yards, 2 touchdowns.  A 45-17 Chiefs victory. Thanks for playing, Denver.

Once or twice a generation, the sports world is rocked by a new breed of athlete. In the 1950s, an ungodly specimen by the name of Jim Brown took the NFL by storm. A decade later, it was the Kansas Comet, Gale Sayers. There was O.J. Simpson after that, and then Earl Campbell, and Walter Payton in the 1980s and Barry Sanders in the 1990s.

After Johnson's debut, the Chiefs were left wondering if they'd managed to pluck the next world-rocker in the 2003 draft.

Johnson came out of Penn State fifth on the Nittany Lions' all-time rushing list. He was voted the nations top running back, won the Walter Camp and Maxwell Club Player of the Year Awards, and finished third in the Heisman Trophy balloting. Amidst all that hardware, though, was some uncertainty: Johnson had only started 18 games as a collegiate.  Was he seasoned enough? Had he taken enough hits in college to prepare himself for the punishing play of the National Football League?

Johnson, for his part, never seemed too concerned.

"I don't get hit, I give hits," he said. "That's the difference that people don't understand. This is what we do. This is what Big Ten backs and Penn State backs do. We are not quick and slashing-type guys that run out of bounds. That's not how my body was conditioned. My body was conditioned to take blows."

Touch', LJ. Touch'.

At 6'1' and 230 pounds, Johnson is a dangerous proposition for would-be tacklers. The rest of the NFL found that out the hard way in 2005, when Johnson again subbed for an injured Holmes and put together the greatest nine-game stretch the league had ever seen:

288 touches. 1,627 yards. 17 touchdowns.

Extrapolated over the course of an entire season, those numbers were enough to get people talking—and the expectations around Johnson were through the roof coming into 2006. Single-season rushing record? It certainly seemed like a distinct possibility...until Willie Road retired, that is, and Tony Richardson left Kansas City for Minnesota. Suddenly the sunny skies in Johnson's future got a lot cloudier.

Another case of false promise and inflated hype?

I don't think so. In hindsight, the preseason predictions were a little unfair.  The nine-game stretch Johnson put together last year was something special, a once-in-a-career kind of thing. Did it mean he'd turn around and rush for 2,500 yards in 2006? Probably not...although the simple fact that some experts considered it possible is astonishing in itself. And let's not forget Johnson's career is still on the rise. 2,500 won't happen this year—but who's to say what 2007 will hold, or 2008 after that?

As for Johnson himself: He doesn't seem to be caught up in stats. If anything, in fact, he sounds like he's in it for his teammates first and his numbers second—if at all.

"If I got 2,000 yards it would be nice," he said. "But they don't hand out championship rings for guys who block for guys that have 2,000 yards. So I'd rather give those guys a Super Bowl and have them go on with their career and life after football with a Super Bowl ring on their hand."

The Chiefs struggled with some growing pains early in the season—a new offensive line will do that to you—but Herm Edwards' team has picked up the pace of late. Johnson in particular is starting to recapture some of last year's success—and that's been mostly without Trent Green, who's still shaking off the effects of his concussion. Is LJ the next big thing? Maybe. What's clear, though, is that his shoulders are broad enough to carry the load in Kansas City—and that the Chiefs are primed to ride the wave of new technology for many years to come.

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