INDIANAPOLIS – So the man hands me his business card and it tells me he is Super Bowl Wayne, and he is – let’s see if I can get this right – a “Television Radio Film Internet Personality.”

Which is a heck of a pile for anyone’s plate, it seems to me.

But, then, it’s a little past 10 a.m. in Lucas Oil Stadium, and the New England Patriots are on the clock – look, there’s Bill Belichick, cracking a grimace – and Super Bowl Wayne has a mission. According to the address on his card, he’s come to Indiana from Honolulu, mainly to trumpet the virtues of Honolulu.

“So why do they call you Super Bowl Wayne?” I ask.

“Because I’ve been to 32 Super Bowls in a row!” he shouts, making the lacquered shells around his neck quiver.

This is the other thing Super Bowl Wayne does. He shouts. Like, all the time.

But then, it’s a shouting kind of day, Media Day at the Super Bowl, so Super Bowl Wayne (real name: Wayne C. Lavelle) fits right in. He’s no more loony or loud or hey-look-at-me than anyone else here, and that includes the fans, who’ve been allowed to pay good money to attend Media Day for the first time.

Something like 7,000 have taken up the offer, cramming themselves into the stands in their Peyton Manning jerseys and Reggie Wayne jerseys and Dallas Clark jerseys. One guy, name of Nick Lower, has driven up from Columbia, Mo., for this. He paid 50 bucks to get in – twice face value – and it’s all because he’s a huge Patriots fan, which is why he’s wearing his Halloween costume: an exact replica of Tom Brady’s uniform, right down to the flowing hair the real Brady trimmed some time ago.

“Yeah, he cut it right before Halloween, but I was committed by then,” Lower says.

He talks a little more, then he moves back to his seat. And for the next two hours, he and the rest of the crowd will watch mob journalism at its finest.

Which, they quickly discover, is pretty doggone boring.

Oh, they’ll perk up and cheer when Brady talks in glowing terms about Peyton Manning or brother Eli says Peyton’s the best quarterback he’s ever seen. But mostly, it’s like watching a documentary about the Chicago stockyards – lots of shuffling media types forming impenetrable thickets around the big names, like Brady and Eli.

“Hey, look! I can see Brady now!” someone in the mob shouts, as the herd briefly parts.

“I’ve been here before, so I know what to expect,” Patriots guard Logan Mankins says. “It’s a circus. For me personally, I’d rather not be here. But I know it’s part of the job.”

Of course, if Mankins weren’t here, he’d miss Super Bowl Wayne. And the guy dressed as Genghis Khan, only with clownishly oversized white sunglasses. And the guy from VH1 in his Red Grange football uniform, complete with leather helmet.

And then, of course, there’s Pick Boy, traipsing around Lucas with a Nick Toons mic, dressed in orange-and-green cape and tights and a black mask.

“Yes, these muscles are real,” he says as the mob descends. “Yes, this hair is perfect.”

“What’s your goal for the day?” someone asks.

“To be great,” Pick Boy replies. “To be awesome.”

Sure picked the right day for that.