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It certainly provides a welcome respite, however, for player representative Pat Dye Jr., the son of, well, you know who, to finally emerge from behind his surprisingly orderly desk and spend a few moments talking about something other than signing bonuses, average compensation per year and which of his NFL clients will be visiting with what teams during the coming week.

At ease in the reception area, the topics range from the arrest of Baltimore Ravens linebacker Ray Lewis, to the experiences of a reporter's daughter in her freshman year at Tulane, to the state of newspapers, to the weather in suddenly sultry Atlanta.

Normally a suit-and-tie guy, Dye, 37, and a 13-year veteran of the agent wars, has unilaterally decreed it to be a casual Friday for himself and the three associates in his office. He looks almost uncomfortable though, out of uniform, his white shirt opened at the collar and the matching coat to his charcoal gray trousers left on the front seat of his car. In his left hand, Dye clutches a stack of at least 20 telephone messages and he uses his right hand to rub his ear, still red from having a telephone receiver seemingly glued to it for the past three hours.

And then after about 10 minutes of reverie, three telephone lines ring almost simultaneously and the place is transformed again into a frenetic and frantic free-agent beehive. Director of client services Amy Irvine scrambles to her desk and assistant director Caroline Wooten fields calls for Dye and vice president Bill Johnson.

It is 10:15 a.m. on Friday, the opening day of the league's free-agent signing period and Dye -- who has 11 veteran clients looking for jobs, including Jacksonville tailback James Stewart, the top unrestricted player at his position in this year's talent pool -- has settled in for the long haul.

Which is not to say that Dye has settled in his own mind on exactly how this day will go. What he does know is that it will be equal parts exhilarating and unpredictable.

"For players and agents, this is just like Christmas Day, especially if you have a big-name guy or a hot commodity like James Stewart," said Dye, who provided SportsLine near unlimited access on Friday to the inner workings of a representative's office on the first day of free agency. "There is the same anticipation, you know, because you have to be prepared and on your toes. Really, the dynamics of free agency have created huge contracts, but the whole process is so fluid that you'd better be ready for just about anything when the bell sounds."

Know this about Dye: He is always ready for the flag to drop, typically investing full days before the free-agency period in due diligence for his clients. One of the most ethical practitioners in a business regarded by most as about as morally rooted as politics, he won't break the rules that prohibit direct contact with a team before the midnight starting point for free agency.

However, he is adept at tapping into league sources, his own clients, friends in the media and just about anyone else who might offer a snippet of solid information to discern which teams will be interested in some of his players.

The homework always had paid off in the past, and few veterans have benefited more from free agency than Dye clients. In 1994, he fetched for Tony Bennett a contract from Indianapolis that made him the second-highest paid linebacker in league history at the time, even though the four-year veteran had never played in a Pro Bowl game. He signed Garrison Hearst to a deal in San Francisco that made him the highest-paid tailback who had never played in a Pro Bowl. A year later, he negotiated a contract worth $17 million for cornerback Antonio Langham, who by midseason had been benched by the 49ers.

Two years ago, Arizona Cardinals wide receiver Frank Sanders got the most lucrative contract ever awarded to a restricted free agent. A few years before that, defensive tackle Kelvin Pritchett was the beneficiary of Dye's expertise in turning free agents into instant millionaires.

Dye likes to say that, in talking money with clients, he characteristically "underpromises and then overdelivers," and few of the players on his roster have disagreed with that analysis. Hardly a guy who has ever embraced agents, former coach Bill Parcells has even lauded the work and ethics of Dye, who grew up fully cognizant of what it meant to be constantly in the spotlight.

Even with a past track record of success, though, Dye spent a restless and fitful night Thursday in anticipation of free agency. He left his office at 8:30 p.m., got home, changed into jogging clothes and ran 4½ miles. Then he had a couple glasses of wine with his wife, Barbara.

Just as he was ready to retire for the night, the brother of Tennessee guard Cosey Coleman, who likely will be a first-round draft pick in April, called to discuss upgrading a disability insurance policy. No sooner had that call ended than Duke defensive tackle Chris Combs was on the line to confirm a date that he would be ready to audition for NFL scouts.

No matter what Dye tried to make himself tired, it didn't work, because at 3:30 a.m. he was still awake staring at the red numbers on the alarm clock.

Not known for his love for sports agents, Bill Parcells admires the work ethic of Pat Dye Jr.(AP)

By just before noon, he looks like a man who already has worked a double shift, and things have not even kicked into high gear yet. Of course, it isn't long before they do.

At 11:51, client Irv Smith, a seven-year veteran tight end who played last season in Cleveland but is now unrestricted, is on the phone. "Hey, big 'un, how's it going?" Dye says, greeting a player for whom he knows there won't be an immediate market. The two speak for a few minutes and Dye ticks off the names of five teams he's already contacted on Smith's behalf. Dye grabs from his desk a ledger sheet on which he has listed every free agent client and every team, along with his hand-written notes detailing degree of interest.

Smith is realistic, hardly pressuring Dye into finding him a new home right now, but the agent is optimistic without being misleading. "Look, we just have to get you the right situation," Dye said. "You're not going to retire on me now are you?" Smith responds: "Hell, no, I'm not ready for that yet." Even before Dye hangs up, Wooten is on the intercom telling him that there's a call holding on line 2 from Cleveland vice president of football operations Dwight Clark.

It is 11:56 when Dye puts Irv Smith on hold so he can speak to Irvine, and he punches up what he thinks is line 2. Instead he hears the voice of Smith again. OK, so a guy who figures to negotiate for Stewart a $25 million deal isn't as good at telephone mechanics and, according to Irvine, can't use e-mail without her assistance. He dashes out the door and into the reception area to make sure he hasn't disconnected Clark, a close friend with whom he enjoys doing business and a guy who he already knows is interested in signing Stewart. By 11:57, he and Clark are chatting it up.

"Damn, Dwight," he says, "you've got James coming in for such a long visit, you might as well just buy him a house there in Cleveland, man." Over the next seven minutes, there is small talk and big numbers thrown around. It seems a given that Stewart -- despite never having rushed for 1,000 yards, having missed all but two games in '98 because of a torn anterior cruciate ligament, and playing behind Fred Taylor with the Jaguars -- will command a contract worth $5 million a year and with a signing bonus of at least $5 million. Dye primes the pump a little with Clark and then speaks to him for a while longer behind closed doors.

Several hours earlier, barely after he and his colleagues arrived in the office, Dye and Irvine were on the phone with the Browns and the Detroit Lions, coordinating travel plans for Stewart. He was to fly to Detroit, visit with Lions coach Bobby Ross and some players on Friday afternoon, dine with former Tennessee teammate Terry Fair and offensive tackle Ray Roberts that night, have a physical on Saturday, then fly to Cleveland later that evening. One of the great ironies of free agency is that the Lions and Browns will have to split the airfare for Stewart, a player both teams covet as the answer to their respective running game woes.

As the conversation with Clark continues, Johnson sticks his head in the door to inform Dye that he has finalized a deal for one of their clients to make a paid appearance. The contract, the men agree, should be faxed to the Atlanta office for their review, not directly to the player. As the door opens, and Johnson enters, the noise of the telephone ringing in the reception area invades Dye's inner sanctum again. Two minutes later, Wooten dumps three more message slips on his desk. All are from reporters seeking to confirm Stewart's visitation schedule.

The brief interruption by Johnson is a reminder, though, that Dye has nearly three dozen clients beyond Stewart who must be serviced. Johnson is at work attempting to set up campus workouts in the spring for 10 new clients who will be in the 2000 draft. "(It's) harder than people think," he said, "because you have to coordinate with everyone. I mean, you don't want your client at Duke to work out the same day that, say, Florida State has its 'pro day' for the scouts. You try to settle on dates where you can get as big an audience as possible for your clients."

Another half-hour passes during which Dye takes phone calls from two general managers seeking a ballpark figure on what it will take to sign Stewart. When Dye drops the number on them, both seem a bit taken aback and say they might phone back later. "Look, anything can happen in this market, so stay in touch," Dye tells one of them. "Let's just see where it gets to." But privately he knows how much he wants to net for Stewart in what might be the last significant deal the 28-year-old tailback ever signs in the NFL.

There is even a phone call from his wife, reminding him of two social engagements over the weekend, one of them a black-tie wedding. "Oh, man," Dye thinks aloud, "does my tuxedo need cleaned, I wonder? Hell, I sure hope not."

Actually he is looking forward to getting away to some non-football activities for a while over the weekend. Last week, on his first trip to Hawaii, he had to excuse himself from Barbara too many times for business calls. Much of his time on the beach with her was spent on the cell phone. One day, he spent hours faxing documents back and forth to the San Francisco 49ers, who needed to restructure Hearst's contract. The time might have been worth it, since he got his client a signing bonus of $1.3 million, but Dye was remorseful about trying to mix business with pleasure.

At about 1:30, Dye decides he has to have something to eat. Accompanied by Johnson and a reporter, he hustles next door to a restaurant off the lobby of a Courtyard by Marriott hotel. As he inhales a Caesar salad with chicken, Dye notices he has a message on his cell phone. The voice is that of Lions coach Bobby Ross, asking him to call so they can discuss Stewart. "Now how did I miss (the cellular) even ringing?" Dye asks rhetorically.

The answer: It's easy, given the decibel level in the office.

On the way back to his office, Dye stops off to get a cup of coffee and Johnson heads out to the airport for a trip where he hopes to close several marketing deals for clients. Johnson appears buoyed -- and, frankly, somewhat relieved -- to escape the hubbub of the office. Back at his desk, Dye tries to reach Bobby Ross, but the coach is not in his office.

At 3 p.m. though, the call to Ross is moot. Lions vice president Tom Lewand, who negotiates the contracts for the team and already has spoken twice to Dye, is on the line. He is asking what it will take to keep Stewart from making the trip to Cleveland, where he fears that the tailback's former relationship with Browns coach Chris Palmer might provide an edge. Dye is professional but also direct in telling Lewand that Stewart is a man of his word and feels he needs to honor his commitment to visit with Cleveland officials.

"If he gets on the plane," Dye says, "you shouldn't take it personally and you shouldn't think it means he's going to Cleveland to sign. He's just an honorable guy. And, really, I'm not certain yet what his priorities are going to be."

Just after he finishes with Lewand, who will call twice more before the end of the afternoon, a reporter helps out Dye by informing him the Lions are restructuring the contracts of three veteran players. The inference is that Detroit is attempting to create more cap room for its avid pursuit of Stewart. "Well, now, that's interesting news," Dye said.

During an unexpected break, Dye takes some time to return phone calls to media members who have been phoning all day. There are more than 60 messages from reporters. Easily among the most accessible agents in the league, Dye typically returns calls even to writers he might not know well. On this day, he is getting back only to those with whom he is most familiar.

By late afternoon, it's obvious that Stewart will not sign a deal this day, probably not before Monday afternoon. That's fine with Dye, who wants more time to speak with his client about the elements most significant to him. In the wake of the Jaguars' defeat in the AFC Championship Game, Stewart was so despondent he didn't want to discuss his future. The two men have talked only in generalities and, in contracts, it's the specifics that make the difference. Dye has a list of topics and priorities -- climate, playing surface, quality of the offensive line, division rivals, the coaching staff, the offensive philosophy, the quality of off-field life in a city -- he needs to run by Stewart in the next few days.

Between 3 p.m. and 4 p.m., Dye makes about a half-dozen calls to teams to gauge their interest in his other clients. Just after 4 o'clock, a personnel man from an NFC team phones to indicate solid interest in fullback Tony Richardson. Dye informs him that Richardson re-signed with Kansas City two weeks earlier, a five-year deal that made the player the second-highest paid fullback in the league. "Can you imagine," Dye says to a reporter, "how incredible this place would be had we not gotten that deal done (for Richardson) before free agency started?"

No, it's too hard, in fact, to imagine. By early evening, the phone still is ringing. There have been more calls from the Browns and Lions. Wooten has started into another message pad, the square, cardboard backs from two previous ones in a corner on her desk. Irvine is talking with Hearst and checking for the umpteenth time on Stewart's flight to Cleveland booked for Saturday evening. Two more players who are unrestricted free agents are on hold as the switchboard flickers.

Not for another three hours will it end, with Dye deciding he can do no more from the office and can hold his ear against a phone no longer. It ends, actually, the way that most first days of free agency conclude: To be continued in the morning, the phone still ringing and the office door locked.