HEY, IT COULD HAPPEN

The Texans? In the playoffs? Hang out at training camp with Mario Williams as your guide and you'll be a believer too.

Mario Williams is about to step out of a meeting room inside Reliant Stadium when he turns around and waves good night. It's an odd gesture, considering a nearby clock reads 1 p.m. Then again, there are two hours to kill before the Texans' second grueling practice of this scorching August day, and the face of the franchise could really use a few winks.

Williams walks deeper into the stadium's bowels, until he reaches the greenroom that the team normally uses to host VIPs. There the Texans have inflated 50 queen-size mattresses and lined them up from wall to wall, making this dark and cold players-only sanctuary feel like a kid's moonwalk ride. Williams passes kicker Kris Brown, cuddled up with his favorite Nebraska blanket, and heads for the left-hand corner of the room, which is occupied by the defensive line. He plops down on an empty bed, where his 6'7", 291-pound frame swallows up the mattress.

This is the perfect setting for Williams and the Texans. Every NFL season features at least one team that emerges from the shadows to shake up the league hierarchy. Think of the 2007 Browns or the 2006 Saints. And the youthful, brash Texans—coming off a quiet 8—8 season—see themselves as this year's slumbering giant, just waiting in the greenroom for their cue. "People still have their backs turned to us," says Williams, the No. 1 overall pick in 2006, who finished tied for third in the NFL with 14 sacks last year. "So it's time to establish ourselves as a great team."

Not many folks, including Texans fans, would have guessed a year ago that Williams would turn out to be the team's biggest It factor. When the Texans passed over Heisman winner Reggie Bush and Houston native Vince Young in the draft, a host of experts panned the move, while the Houston Chronicle said it "smacks of stupidity." And as a rookie suffering from plantar fasciitis in his right foot, Williams looked lazy, lost and, worst of all, indifferent. It didn't help that the team experimented with him all over the line, including at tackle and as a stand-up pass-rusher. The 2006 Texans finished 610 while their $54 million prize managed just 47 tackles and 4.5 sacks.

Sanjay Kothari

Everything changed last season. Williams settled in on the right side, where his rare combination of speed on the edge and strength inside prompted Tony Dungy to compare him to Mean Joe Greene. Williams was unblockable over the last two months of the season, rolling up 10 sacks in six games. And though the injury-plagued defense struggled to keep up with the AFC South's furious offenses, it did cut down its points allowed per game from 26.1 in the first half of the season to 21.9 in the second. "Mario's starting to realize that he's one of those special players," says Texans QB Matt Schaub. "He's a guy who elevates everyone around him."

Williams grew up in Richlands, N.C., a tiny, anything-but town where he spent many happy days playing, hunting and exploring in the woods behind his family's trailer. Following his Pro Bowl snub last season, Williams flew home for a few weeks of chill time. But after three days, he was on a plane headed back to Texas. "For the first time, when I left Houston I felt like I was missing something," he says. "Growing up, I was always extremely happy and at peace in the woods, and that's where I am now with football. When you're the first pick overall, there is a sense of chasing it, the pressure of living up to what you know you can do. I've stopped chasing it. Football is coming to me, and I'm running with it."

Hang out in Texans camp, and you'll find that Williams' vibe is clearly infectious. This is a loose, energetic team with a considerable swagger. Or watch the Texans now, several hours after nap time, during their first night practice of the year. Under a breezy, platinum sky, with Flo Rida on the speakers and the stands packed, they put on a show. Wideout Andre Johnson, a two-time Pro Bowler who missed seven games with a knee injury in 2007, flawlessly catches passes every which way: off his fingertips, with one hand and, on deep, rainbow bombs, over his shoulder. Linebacker DeMeco Ryans, the NFL's leading tackler since 2006, flashes the kind of jaw-dropping burst to the ball that would make Ray Lewis jealous. Not to be outdone, Williams twists his Texans baseball cap backward and goes to work. He flashes crazy speed on the corner, bull-rush strength on the inside and refined pass-rush moves that look more like jujitsu than football. Afterward, as Williams makes his way off the field, the team's once fickle fans chant, "M-V-P! M-V-P!"

Dan Brouillette

Welcome to the Texans' greenroom, where a sleeper team is made.

But Williams never looks back. He just keeps moving forward, faster and faster with each step.

Go deeper inside the Texans' camp with this PHOTO GALLERY tour.

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