FLOWERY BRANCH, Ga. -- It is one of the most dichotomous elements of football, probably doubly so for the league's most electrifying performer, but Atlanta Falcons quarterback Mike Vick now understands that all the speed in the world really doesn't help much until the game mentally slows down for a player.

Unfortunately, for opposing defenses, Vick still runs the 40 in under 4.3 seconds. But in his next step forward, toward becoming one of the NFL's premier quarterbacks instead of simply its greatest pure athlete, Vick's mind doesn't race ahead of his feet nearly as much as it did in his first two seasons.

	Mike Vick rushed for 776 yards and eight touchdowns last season.

Nothing will ever occur in slow-motion on the field for Vick but, as his apprenticeship at the game's most demanding position progresses toward its conclusion, frenetic has been replaced by freeze-frame. The epiphany comes for every great quarterback, albeit it at different junctures, as they mature. And for Vick, well, the 2003 season appears to be his personal time of enlightenment.

"It's getting there," Vick acknowledged before Wednesday afternoon's practice here. "I can feel it. There's a comfort level you reach. It's a lot easier to play the game when you are comfortable and in control … and confident you know what you're doing."

Always a quick read, a player who coaches claim has to be told something only one time and doesn't often repeat his errors, Vick has concentrated this summer on overcoming his sloppy mechanics. In the first year under the tutelage of Mike Johnson, who was moved to quarterback coach in the offseason, Vick has toiled long hours on his footwork.

Perhaps a bit too nimble for his own good, Vick demonstrated "happy feet" at times in 2002, and his technique suffered as a result. Johnson has stressed taking the frenzy out of the footwork, of planting and setting, and throwing with a balanced base.

Because his arm is so strong, and since he throws so well on the run, Vick allowed some of the rudimentary elements of the art of the pass to subconsciously deteriorate in 2002. No matter a player's arm strength, though, passes are still thrown as much with the legs and the feet as with the shoulder.

And clearly the Falcons staff wants Vick to be more conscious in 2003 of throwing from a squared-up base. Of his eight interceptions in 2002, more than half came in situations where Vick was throwing from an unbalanced stance.

	“	He's scary enough now, and I don't know how you'd stop him if he was (completing) 60 or 65 percent. ”
		— Fred Thomas, Saints cornerback

Of course, the team would like Vick to gain more pocket awareness because it means he will run less, and perhaps reduce his wild ventures into harm's way. No one will ever try to dissuade Vick from creating improvisational plays, and the Falcons offense includes a package of scripted runs designed specifically for him, but ultimately Atlanta is paying him to win a championship with his arm.

Never a high percentage guy in college, Vick completed only 54.9 percent of his passes in his first season as an NFL starter, and the relatively low figure needs improvement. Of the league's top 10 passers last season, all but two were in the 60 percent or higher range, and the lowest completion percentage of the group was 58.4 percent.

"He's scary enough now," said New Orleans cornerback Fred Thomas of Vick, "and I don't know how you'd stop him if he was (completing) 60 or 65 percent."

Even more important to the continued growth of Vick, though, is the art of slowing down the game, seeing situations clearly, making good decisions. Told on Wednesday that Hall of Fame quarterback Joe Namath once related the story of how he strolled to the line of scrimmage in his third or fourth season, surveyed the defense, and saw things so clearly that it was like a shroud had lifted.

Vick allowed that, while his progress has been more incremental, he has seen "from week to week" such strides.

"You get into a rhythm and start to feel pretty good," he said. "And it's like putting the final pieces into a puzzle. I've still got about six or seven pieces to fit in. And that's not a lot. Not when you started with about 150 puzzle pieces."

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