BEREA, Ohio -- Browns linebacker Jamie Collins pulls down the neckline of his hoodie to reveal a tattoo of a tombstone on the left side of his chest, right over his heart, that says “RIP Carolyn.”

Then he pulls down the right side of the hoodie to reveal a matching tombstone tattoo on the right side that reads, "RIP Fred."

Fred and Carolyn were his parents, and they both died by the time Collins was 6 years old in tiny McCall Creek, Miss.

"Heart problems,'' said Collins.

Then, he thrusts out his right forearm to reveal another tattoo, this one a tribute to his older brother Frederick, who died at the age of 23 when Collins was in high school.

"When life hits you, it hits,'' he said.

These days, Collins is all smiles as he runs around Browns training camp, trying to set a championship tone. But, as he once posted on Instagram, "behind my smile is a story you'll never understand.''

It's a story Collins has never really told, not even to some of his best friends.

But on a sunny morning in Berea, he felt like it was time.

"It's a new day,'' he said.

Matters of the heart

Like his parents, young Frederick died of a heart defect.

"He lived in Las Vegas, so he was out there playing basketball and collapsed,'' said Collins.

The loss of Frederick, who was Collins' best friend, hit him like one of those 18-wheelers his father used to drive.

"He was my closest brother,'' said Collins. "He was the one that really made me.''

Heart disease, as it turns out, runs in Collins' family, and even he's been touched by it. One exam revealed what he described as "an oversized artery,'' but he's checked out regularly and has no restrictions on the football field.

"It's scary, but at the end of the day, you've got to go out and do what you've got to do,'' said Collins, 26. "For the most part, thank God, I'm blessed. I don't have any problems right now. The heart's looking good.''

Collins is the youngest of five boys and one girl, Lisa, the oldest. When their parents died, Lisa, in her early 20s at the time, raised her five brothers: Donnie, Darryl, Phillip, Frederick and Jamie.

"That's why I take care of her,'' said Collins. "I was in and out, but at the end of the day, she was the one. My very first paycheck, I bought her and her husband a house. I look at them as my parents."

Collins recalls that Lisa "dropped out of school. We all did (for a while). But like I said, we all have something.''

How did a young girl keep five strapping boys in line?

"She's one tough cookie,'' he said. "And she's not small either.''

How did she manage to make ends meet and put food on the table for four huge boys?

"You never know until the situation approaches, but she so happened to come up with things to get us fed, clothes on our back and stuff like that,'' he said. "We grinded through it. We made do.''

The Collins boys made a competition out of everything, and they often beat up on their baby brother.

"That's just what happens when you're the little brother, but it's good,'' he said. "That's what makes you the man you are.''

Country strong

With Collins' bulging biceps and massive chest, it's hard to imagine him small, but "I just got big,'' he said. "I've always been this little runt, the smallest in the family. In high school, I was 185, but skinny.''

His brothers "helped me aggressively just muscle everyone. It's just knowing you can big-boy everybody. No matter what size you are, you have to get it done.''

The boys raced each other everywhere and tossed the football around "in the backyard, the bushes, the road, wherever. Where I'm from is real small. It's the country.''

Collins grew up fishing, hunting, bailing hay and logging with his uncles. The activities made him "country strong,'' the kind you know when it hits you. After a while, however, he bagged the hunting.

"A bear might run up on you,'' he said. "I never (had a close) encounter with a bear, but if I saw something like Bigfoot, I don't know what I might do.''

As time went on, the boys scattered. One was in the military in Arizona, another in school in Louisiana.

"They were all over the place,'' he said.

It gave Fred time to teach Collins everything he knew, including how to tumble. In one Instagram video, Collins strings together seven back handsprings followed by a back tuck.

"We were the only ones left in the house and we were always together,'' said Collins. "It was tough when he passed. I had to do this on my own.''

With no big brothers to turn to, Collins picked up tips on life -- and manhood -- wherever he could.

"If I saw you and your son just talking somewhere in a grocery store, I'm listening,'' he said. "I'm trying to pick on any little thing. So that was just me. I would just sit back and evaluate, look, listen. I wasn't eavesdropping but I was just learning, because that's what I had to do.''

A legend is born

Home base was at Lisa's house in Quentin, but Collins alternated between there and nearby McCall Creek.

"Sometimes I'd go stay with my auntie or my other auntie or my uncle, or I'd go stay with a cousin for a while,'' he said. "That's how it was. That's life. You've got to do what you've got to do to survive.''

Sports were Collins' refuge, and he excelled at Franklin County High in Meadville. He led the Bulldogs to their first-ever state championship as a sophomore quarterback -- but also played safety, linebacker, receiver and punter. He intercepted three passes in one game as a substitute safety, and as legend has it, he dunked 10 times in a basketball game. He was also a state champ in the shot put and discus.

"He was by far the best athlete out there, no matter what sport,'' said Alex Smith, one of his best friends since middle school and a teammate both in high school and at Southern Miss. "Wherever we needed a play on the football field, we put Jamie at that position to make it.''

Smith recalled the time when he had just given up a touchdown late in the semifinal game, and was on the sidelines crying.

"I thought I just cost us the game,'' he said.

Instead, he heard the crowd cheering wildly and looked up to watch Collins scrambling upfield and plowing through a safety at the goal-line for the 50-yard game-winning TD.

"A legend was born,'' said Smith.

They went on to deliver the first championship to Meadville that year, and returned to the title game the following season but lost.

Listen to Jamie Collins in his own words: His interview with Mary Kay Cabot.

Behind closed doors



Despite being among Collins' four best friends, Smith didn't know for more than two years that both of Collins' parents had passed.

"I never really touched that subject with him,'' said Smith. "There are certain things he just never brought up. He's a very, very private person.''

Smith was amazed that Collins was able to achieve so much. "A lot of times when things like that happen, kids go down the wrong path,'' said Smith. "But he was never in any trouble.''

Even when Frederick died when they were in high school, Smith doesn't recall Collins ever shedding a tear.

"Behind closed doors I'm sure he was struggling with it, but in public, you'd never know anything was bothering him,'' said Smith.

When Collins and Smith went off to Southern Miss and roomed together for the first two years, Collins remained a freak athlete on the field, first as a safety and then as a linebacker. Off the field, he remained elusive. He shied away from the spotlight and avoided interviews.

"If you're not in his close inner circle, you're not going to know what's going on or how he's feeling,'' said Smith.

The Patriot Way

Collins went on to star for the Patriots after they drafted him in the second round (No. 52) in 2013, leading the team with eight tackles in their Super Bowl victory over the Seahawks after the 2014 season. He went to the White House and shook hands with President Barack Obama.

The next year, he wreaked havoc on the NFL with 89 tackles, a career-high 5.5 sacks and five forced fumbles to earn Pro Bowl honors. He also leaped over the line of scrimmage to block an extra point, showing off those old acrobatic skills that Fred taught him.

But none of that stopped Bill Belichick from trading him midway through last season to the Browns for a third-round compensatory pick. The trade jolted not only Collins but the the entire NFL.

"You can say hurt feelings, but this a pro game and I can't control anything like that,'' he said. "If the guys upstairs feel it's time for me to go, then it's time for me to go no matter what.''

The rap against Collins is that he freelanced and didn't play within Belichick's scheme.

"I let them say what they want to say, because at the end of the day, no one really knows what went on unless you're there,'' he said. "That's not my worry. I'm not competing against outsiders.''

Despite the trade -- and having to watch the Patriots go on to win another Super Bowl without him -- Collins harbors no ill will toward Belichick.

"I love Bill,'' said Collins. "He's a great coach. Smart, everything. We know that he's consistently winning, so there's nothing you can say about Bill Belichick.''

Collins made fast friends with teammates such as linebacker Christian Kirksey, and immediately noticed a family atmosphere that was different from the one he left.

"Despite the record, everybody's smiling, and I just felt that,'' he said. "Nobody's head was down. I went 0-12 my senior year in college and I saw a lot of guys pouting. But when I came here, you'd think we were undefeated.''

In the offseason, Collins signed a four-year extension worth $50 million. Collins is so rejuvenated under defensive coordinator Gregg Williams that he has begged to play free safety.

"It was just a joke, but (if I could), I'd definitely be back there at free,'' he said. "Whatever coach wants me to do, I won't back down. He's brought a great sense of urgency.''

Collins also showed off that old high school QB arm in minicamp by firing the ball into a small mesh pocket in a skills competition after practice -- the only player to do so.

"I love playing quarterback,'' he said. "I love to have the ball in my hands. That's the reason I always go after the ball.''

After practice most days, Collins walks straight over to the family area to lift his son Jamie Collins Jr., who just turned 3.

"I never thought I could love somebody like that,'' he said. "It's crazy, it's weird, but it's exciting. It's not just about me anymore. I'm blessed to have him. It keeps me grounded.''

Starting all over and leaving behind best friends such as New England's Dont'a Hightower has been hard, but Collins reminds himself of all that he's been through.

"There's trial and stuff that you have to deal with that are way bigger than whatever you're thinking about,'' he said. "Just think back, 'Man, you had to do this, you had to do that. This ain't bigger than this.' OK boom, you move on.''

And you do it with a smile.