ORCHARD PARK, N.Y. -- Even in the seven seasons that have transpired since the Buffalo Bills last appeared in a Super Bowl matchup, losing to the Dallas Cowboys in a fourth consecutive championship game defeat, there has been a definite air of stability for this franchise that has known the stewardship of just one owner in its entire history.

But leave anything exposed to the air for so many years along the shores of Lake Erie and a natural enemy of stability, insidious oxidation, eventually takes hold. So it should have come as no surprise that, in such a Rust Belt city, the Buffalo Bills became, naturally, a tad rusty after a long tenure at or near the top of the AFC East.

	Tom Donahoe cleaned up the Bills' salary cap situation to make room for younger players.

And it should have been even less surprising, following a 2000 season in which the Bills defined mediocrity, that octogenarian owner Ralph Wilson Jr. dramatically altered the dynamic by gutting his organization in a manner not witnessed here since the mid-80s. If the new front office tandem of president/general manager Tom Donahoe and head coach Gregg Williams probably don't immediately return the franchise to its halcyon days of the early 1990s, neither will they maintain a status quo that have evolved into ennui.

For the remaining veterans who were a part of the historic stretch of four straight AFC championships -- and those still around from the team's last division title in 1995 -- that's a giant step in the right direction. Whether that step becomes a quantum leap at some point in the near future remains to be seen, but most players here agree that a change was due.

And under the guidance of Donahoe and Williams, these definitely are not your father's Buffalo Bills, it has become readily apparent.

"Sometimes you simply have to shake things up," said defensive left end Phil Hansen, an 11-year veteran who restructured his contract to remain a part of the only organization he has ever known. "I don't believe you change things just for the sake of change. But even after Marv (Levy) left here, we were still doing a lot of stuff the same way. Maybe we got a little too much into a rut, because that can happen, but we definitely were stale. To have just stayed on the same course would have been easy, but it wouldn't have been the best thing to do, that's for sure."

Indeed, it isn't as if the Bills had fallen completely off the NFL radar screen like the Bengals or Cardinals. Since its appearance in Super Bowl XXVIII, Buffalo still has a regular-season record of 62-50, won the always-competitive AFC East in '95 and claimed wild-card playoff spots in three other seasons. Only twice in the seven years after the Super Bowl run ended have the Bills finished with a sub-.500 record.

At the same time, however, Buffalo is just 1-4 in postseason games since '93 and has not advanced beyond the first round since 1995.

Buffalo is a blue-collar city accustomed to a product being better than so-so, with an owner who had grown weary of internecine infighting and cognizant of the inattention to detail under deposed coach Wade Phillips. Typical of the Western New York area, a tract light-years removed from Manhattan, the citizens here aren't necessarily accustomed to quick changeover. They still like their buffalo wings hot, their winters cold, their paychecks to reflect time-and-a-half for anything over 40 hours and their football team competitive.

Somehow the glory years under Levy -- and with future Hall of Fame members like Bruce Smith, Jim Kelly, Andre Reed and Thurman Thomas on the roster -- had expunged from the collective memory banks much of the recollections of the franchise's early blunders.

But think about this: Arguably the two most memorable elements of the Bills' past seven years were the team's loss to Tennessee in the infamous "Music City Miracle" game and the intramural schism that resulted from divided loyalties between quarterbacks Doug Flutie and Rob Johnson.

Said one longtime offensive veteran: "When the things that you're focusing on are all so negative, it's time for some sort of radical turnaround."

The architect of a Pittsburgh Steelers roster good enough to advance to Super Bowl XXX and a former and short-lived ESPN.com employee (blatant plug), Donahoe remains one of the game's best talent scouts and that was obvious in his debut draft this spring. Much less well-known throughout the league is Williams, a former Tennessee Titans defensive coordinator and, perhaps more essential, a man with obsession for detail.

Their combined impressive credentials aside, the pair might not be able to enact the sort of instant makeovers more inherent to day-time television talk shows, but it won't be for a lack of effort. The conventional wisdom is that, despite a much-needed transfusion of young talent, there are still enough holes remaining that the Bills might take a step back in 2001 before moving forward full-speed next season.

Neither man, though, is buying into conventional wisdom.

"We're going to be fine," Donahoe said. "There's a lot of competition on the roster and that will make us better. We're going to be very competitive. I feel good about the things we have done here. And the players have taken to Gregg and a (no-nonsense) approach."

	“	It's simple. Rob was better. ”
		— Gregg Williams on why the Bills chose Rob Johnson over Doug Flutie

Burdened by a calamitous salary cap situation, Donahoe and Williams made moves that were designed to get cash friendly again and to move younger players into more essential roles. Gone from the 2000 roster are starters like defensive end Marcellus Wiley, middle linebacker John Holecek, offensive tackle Robert Hicks, nose tackle Ted Washington and outside linebacker Sam Rogers.

And gone too is Flutie, who lost the power struggle with Johnson only after Donahoe and Williams conducted an exhaustive and months-long review of both players' dossiers, including videotape scrutiny of every pass the pair threw in 2000. "It's simple," said Williams of what was, nonetheless, a complex decision. "Rob was better."

None of the young Buffalo players being counted on to emerge in 2001 -- a copious list that includes defensive end Erik Flowers, wide receiver Peerless Price, tailbacks Sammy Morris and Travis Henry, safety Travares Tillman and linebacker Corey Moore, among others -- faces as much pressure as Johnson. The perception of the six-year veteran, who had hardly seemed to embrace this area in his first couple seasons here, is that he takes far too many sacks.

Truth be told, there have been times when it appeared that nothing more significant than a gust of swirling wind in Ralph Wilson Stadium could fell Johnson and knock him out of commission for a few weeks. Williams is confident, though, the new West Coast design will force Johnson to unload quicker. He didn't unload at all in Saturday's preseason game against Philadelphia, victimized by a sprained index finger on his right hand. While the injury raised some red flags, Johnson insisted he could have played if it was the regular season.

Teammates like wide receiver Eric Moulds, the Bills' premier offensive force and a young veteran emerging as one of the top playmakers in the entire NFL, senses a change in Johnson.

"Definitely there is more confidence about him now," Moulds said. "It's hard to play if you're constantly looking over your shoulder, you know? This is Rob's time now and it's his team, no doubt."

It is a team getting greener, one with a bountiful draft of a dozen solid selections, but one which needs several of those choices (cornerback Nate Clements, defensive end Aaron Schobel, Henry and offensive tackle Jonas Jennings) to play well quickly. If they don't, the facelift is apt to fall flat. Long-term, though, few here seem to doubt that the new regime will succeed.

Donahoe and Williams are men of substance and stability and character, and it figures to be quite a while before the rust gets to them.

Len Pasqaurelli is a senior NFL writer for ESPN.com.