At some point, Kelley Washington decided to call himself The Future. He was so sure of himself, he emailed me at The Magazine last spring and strongly suggested we should do a story on him.

	Time will tell if Washington's game is as big as his ego.

Well, we did the story, and with Kelley finally back on the field against Florida on Saturday, we'll soon find out if he's right.

His teammates at Tennessee just call him K-Dub. They're not quite sure what to make of The Future.

Maybe that's because they don't understand The Past. After packing on 55 pounds of muscle during his failed minor league baseball career, Washington had gotten faster as well as bigger than he was as a high school quarterback. Belatedly choosing football, he wrote a handful of top programs and, hoping to catch their attention, told them that he was a combination of Terrell Owens and Jerry Rice. (He had never played receiver before in his life.)

He learned how to run his routes and read defenses and then, he says, he developed "the receiver's mentality." In layman's terms that means he became a diva. Just like Michael Irvin was in his Playmaker days. Or Keyshawn Johnson was when he yapped about just wanting the damn ball. So here comes The Future.

He is brash, but not brooding, saying everything in hopes he can make you believe in him as much as he believes in himself. He punctuates sentences with multiple exclamation points, as if to say Here I come world!!! and if you ask him about anybody else, well, he just can't seem to help himself:

On Michigan State all-American wideout Charles Rogers: "He's a good player. I don't take nothing away from Charlie. He's more of a down-the-field guy, but he's not real big or physical. Now if the team wants the whole package -- the size, speed and a guy who is physical -- they're gonna be coming after me."

On former UT star Donte' Stallworth, a first-rounder with the Saints: "He's more like Charles Rogers. He's a speed guy. He's gonna do some curls and comebacks. I'm gonna kill you going deep on you and jumping over you, but also take that five-yard hitch and get you 10 more because that first guy's not gonna tackle me. That's what makes me so special."

The Future talks about how this year he's gonna take his show worldwide. Back home in Stephens City, Va., a tiny town of 1,100, his family just kind of tilts their heads at all this. "Kelley was actually really low-key," says his older brother John. "He's a quiet guy." John's talked to his younger brother about putting himself so far out on a limb, but The Future isn't about to back down now. The Future's mom, Deborah, has also talked to him about toning it down a little, but whenever she brings it up, he politely says he knows what he's doing.

"I never listen to anyone who complains that I am cocky or brash," The Future says. "They don't know what it takes to get the edge, to be fully confident in your ability to where the only person who can stop you is yourself."

The Future's best friend, Cory Goldfarb, a former clubhouse manager in the Florida Marlins system, says this is no act. "I know his teammates have been upset, but it's not a show with him," says Goldfarb. "With Kelley, what you see really is what you get."

Washington says he can't wait to show his stuff against Florida. He says he probably would've caught 30 balls had he been able to play in UT's first two games against Wyoming and Middle Tennessee. But those games were just tune-ups. The Future knows he can only burnish his rep against teams like the Gators, not the Blue Raiders. After all, as a wise man once said, "big-time players come up big in big games."

That man had to be a wide receiver.

Bruce Feldman covers college football for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at bruce.feldman@espnmag.com.