Aaron Maybin was content with mediocrity, at peace with settling for less.

After another lame day of classes in ninth grade, he came home with his report card in hand. Dad took a look at the row of C’s bleeding across the page, his pulse sped up and he flipped.

“I was basically freaking out at him,” Michael Maybin said. “And he said, ‘But dad, I’m a perfectly happy average student.’ At which point, my wife had to escort me from the room.”

Once dad cooled down and the echo from his screeching “What!!??” dissipated, the two sat down for a heart-to-heart. These grades needed to rise.

Michael didn’t have the money to pay for a college tuition. Anything Aaron did after graduation - and, oh yes, he would do something - needed to be manifested on his own. There would be no hometown loafing, no mooching.

Once Aaron graduated from high school, his room was going to be converted to an office. At least that was the scare tactic dad used in his message.

“I told him, ‘Listen. We’re a middle-income family. You’ve got three siblings. Quite frankly, as it relates to college, you have two choices: earn a scholarship and do something athletically or join the military,’” Michael recalled.

THE AARON MAYBIN that the Buffalo Bills drafted 11th overall (and are trying to sign at the moment) was born that day.

Good news for a defense that needs some punch. With Tom Brady rehabilitated, Chad Pennington resurrected and Mark Sanchez grooming, Maybin’s maturation will be more important than any product or TV show Terrell Owens slaps his name onto.

Maybin is a risky investment. He had one breakthrough season at Penn State. Maybe he’s a one-hit wonder. But his path to the present started with The Talk in ninth grade.

“It was a blessing,” the younger Maybin said of his Dad’s words. “I thank God every day that I was blessed with the two parents that I have. What my father did was an extremely big influence on me.”

This mental shift never reversed. Tested, yes. But never reversed.

Roots in Wrestling

Roots in Wrestling

One year after The Talk, Aaron’s newfound focus slipped.

His grades improved overall. He was especially sharp during football season.

But when the calendar flipped to wrestling, Maybin’s concentration slumped. He doesn’t remember what the class was. Only that the ugly grade elicited an uglier, assertive response from his father.

“I got a ‘D’ on my report card and he pulled me off the wrestling team,” Aaron said.

Aaron wasn’t shocked, he knew his dad wasn’t just giving lip service last year. But the in-house suspension stunned his coach.

“He kept begging and pleading, ‘Can you let him come back now?’” Michael recalled. “And I said, ‘no.’ There has to be repercussions for it.”

By the next quarter, that grade improved to a ‘B.’

The sport of wrestling itself was a dose of foreshadowing for Maybin. So many speed rushers drafted in the first round crash and burn. The horror stories ring loud every April - Jamal Reynolds, Jerome McDougle, (soon) Gaines Adams and, gulp, Erik Flowers.

Undersized ends flop yearly at the next level. Too often, teams go shopping for Julius Peppers and wind up with nothing but fodder for behemoth offensive tackles.

So naturally, skeptics stereotyped Maybin as such before the draft. Only game action will prove if he’s for real. But the any size difference won’t be daunting. In wrestling, Maybin thrived against heavier opponents. As a high school junior, he competed in the goliath 275-pound class...as a 225-pounder.

Despite the severe discrepancy in size, Maybin finished fourth in the state with speed, go-to moves and a mean streak.

As Aaron got older, the 1,500 pounds of weights in his basement were put to more use. No longer did dad need to poke and prod him to go downstairs for a lift. And suddenly, Michael Maybin was saving money at the gas pump. Aaron began running the one-mile route to practice every day during the summer.

The resiliency paid off. Maybin totaled 19 sacks his junior and senior years at high school and was Penn State bound.

“When everyone was at home swimming in pools, he was running to school,” Michael said.

By the time Maybin was at Penn State, dad’s counseling was no longer needed. Michael said Aaron never returned home after he left for Happy Valley as a freshman. And no, he didn’t really turn Aaron’s room into an office.

Rather, the guidance wasn’t in demand anymore. All those lessons became second nature. The two have been through a lot together - when Aaron was six years old, his biological mother died due to complications in child birth.

In college, Maybin picked the brains of the best at his craft �“ Lavar Arrington, Shawne Merriman, Ray Lewis. He craved their swagger. Arrington, especially, became a personal coach.

When Maurice Evans was suspended for marijuana possession and Jerome Hayes suffered his second straight torn ACL, Maybin became the de facto starter at defensive end last fall. Thirteen games later, he led the conference in sacks (12).

After games, Arrington frequently called Maybin’s cell phone. Like those verbal floggings from Dad, it wasn’t always pretty.

“He was brutally honest with me,” Maybin said. “He never sugar-coated stuff. He wanted to make sure I knew what I needed to do to take my game to the next level.”

Suddenly, NFL hopes were valid. But the real work was just beginning.

“I BECAME A MONSTER”

Forget about defensive end. This was defensive back territory. This was you-probably-shouldn’t-have-turned-pro-as-a-redshirt-sophomore territory.

When Aaron Maybin walked through the door at Power Train Sports Performance, he weighed 226 pounds. In other words, more than 100 pounds less than the left tackles he’d be bashing into as a pro.

Maybin’s trainer, Steve Saunders, remembers looking at the scale in awe.

“I said, ‘Wow, we have our work cut out for us. We have a lot of weight to put on here,’” Saunders recalled.

So Maybin ate six meals a day. He lifted constantly. He lifted with a snarl.

“I became a monster,” Maybin said. “I was in the weight room all day, every day. I ate, I lifted, I ate again, I lifted again, I ate again. I became a machine during that time and I was really able to continue to grow.”

In the two months between the NFL Combine and his Pro Day, Maybin’s 40-yard dash shrunk from 4.7 seconds to 4.59. As he got faster, he got heavier. From January to March, Maybin added 25 pounds ... the good kind.

At his style of play �” attacking, getting to the edge �” he couldn’t lug around just any type of mass. He needed fast-twitch muscle development to retain (and strengthen) that lethal first step.

That’s where Saunders came in. A typical day’s workout: breakfast, an hour break, an hour workout, a post-workout shake/snack, an hour rest, lunch, an hour rest, running drills for an hour, a post-workout shake/snack, an hour rest, dinner, another workout, another post-workout shake/snack, and then finally bed.

By the time Maybin left Saunders, he was 250 pounds. And the trainer believes his former pupil has the frame to carry 270 pounds someday.

The workouts worked succeeded but Saunders had doubts. He knew Maybin would lift every day. But he didn’t know if the defensive end would be committed in the kitchen.

“If it could fly, run or swim and if he could pick it from the tree or the ground, he ate it,” said Saunders, who has trained between some three-dozen clients, including Paul Posluszny.

“You have to put on good weight. Calories in, calories out. He’s not going to get fat eating properly. My problem with a lot of nutrition programs is a calorie is not a calorie. You can’t tell somebody to eat 2,000 calories and that you’re going to gain muscle.”

By April, the veins streamed down Maybin’s forearms like garden snakes.

His shoulders were chiseled like a Boflex pitchman. His entire body changed with Saunders in Lancaster, Pa. When Michael Maybin saw the final product at Penn State’s Pro Day, he barely recognized his son.

“It was scary,” Michael said. “By that time he had really settled into all the weight he had put on and it was really remarkable to see.”

SHOWTIME

Everybody in the stands knew the wager. They razzed dad every time Aaron rushed around the end.

It was Maybin’s second game ever. And it was under the NBC spotlight against Notre Dame. Michael knew a friendly nudge in the right direction couldn’t hurt. He told Aaron he’d buy him a plasma TV if he sacked Jimmy Clausen.

Revealing the outcome, dad pauses for effect.

”He has that flat-screen TV,” Michael said, laughing hysterically. “It’s sitting in his living room right now!”

Well worth the $1,000, Dad watched that highlight of Maybin tomahawking Clausen to the turf over and over again on draft weekend. The motivation worked. Of course now that Aaron is in the process of negotiating his rookie contract, it begs the question: Will son return the favor? After all of those everlasting tips as a youngster?

“Well,” Michael said, “let’s see what happens when the ink dries.”

For the Bills’ sake, the ink better dry very soon.