TALLAHASSEE, Fla. -- The pass was thrown down the sideline, high.

This was the summer, during seven-on-seven drills with no coaches on hand to critique the route or fans to applaud results.

A cornerback shadowed him just a step behind, but Kelvin Benjamin was in pursuit of a football that rightfully belonged to him. He galloped down the sideline at full speed, each long stride taking him closer to the football and farther from his defender.

From the backfield, Devonta Freeman watched in awe. Without breaking stride, Benjamin turned, reached into the air, snatched the football with one hand, and sauntered a few more yards into the end zone for a touchdown. It was easy, fluid, natural.

Wide receiver Kelvin Benjamin has lost more than 20 pounds as he prepares for his Florida State debut. AP Photo/Don Juan Moore

Freeman turned to a teammate and summed up what everyone else was thinking.

"You can't be serious," he said.

Benjamin is 6-foot-6 and towers above his opposition. He is a giant.

He soars over defenders, rescuing footballs that might otherwise have been captured by a defensive back. He is a super hero.

He rumbles over cornerbacks at the line of scrimmage and dashes furiously downfield to secure a bomb in the end zone. He is a warrior.

He has never played a game at Florida State, but the legend of Kelvin Benjamin has taken root, grown with exponential speed, each tall tale a little taller than the last but, astonishingly, his teammates insist, all are true.

From quarterback EJ Manuel: "We're not going to sit and throw hitches. We want to stretch the field and give K.B. a chance to shine."

From fellow receiver Rodney Smith: "He's going to be bad, boy. He's a Calvin Johnson type of receiver."

From defensive coordinator Mark Stoops: "He's a monster."

From Freeman: "He's easily going to be one of the great ones."

Benjamin has heard all of this. He's embraced it, relished it, been motivated by it. It has also distracted him.

Even for a legend, nothing comes easily.

"Having so much hype, you've got the bar set so high," Benjamin said. "It's pretty much down from there."

A year ago, the buzz wasn't quite as intense, but Benjamin was already pegged as a future star. He had nine inches on the average cornerback, speed that rivaled most safeties, and hands that might as well have been lathered in glue.

Benjamin oozed potential, but the reality of his first year at Florida State wasn't nearly as impressive. Where fans saw power, speed and certainty, head coach Jimbo Fisher saw an overweight receiver, ambivalent about success and unprepared for the challenges ahead.

The legend was redshirted.

The obvious explanation, as far as Benjamin was concerned, was that the coaches disliked him. They had a grudge against him. They wanted to tear him down while everyone else was busy building him up. Why else would they see so many flaws where so many found greatness?

"I used to get down with criticism," Benjamin said. "I wasn't good with that."

Knowing he wouldn't play as a freshman, Benjamin often loafed through practices. His weight ballooned to nearly 260 pounds. The playbook was complex, and it didn't hold his attention.

On game day though, reality sunk in, and Benjamin was provided a glimpse of what he was missing.