Ryan Leaf is on trial for his "character." But in this case, it isn't his crimes against society that count. It's the ones he committed against his teammates that have placed his career in jeopardy.

I know he's been guilty of various infractions, like getting thrown out of a bar and launching a tirade against some reporter after a poor performance. But what guy hasn't gotten a little salty after one Corona too many? And what athlete hasn't fantasized about wrapping his fingers around the fleshy throat of some self-righteous, marginally-talented sportswriter?

Leaf's real sins -- the ones that threaten his NFL future -- were committed against his own team and aren't so easily forgiven. Two years ago he was fined $1,500 for not sleeping in the Chargers' dormitory during training camp. He was also fined for not wearing team-issued clothing on the sideline. Making matters worse, after Leaf was suspended for cussing out then-GM Bobby Beathard and strength coach John Hastings when they criticized his suspect workout habits, he arrogantly played in a flag football game. With each of those actions, Leaf sent a crystal clear message not only to the Chargers, but to every other team that may have been watching: "I-Don't-Care-About-Football."

The other day I was talking with a friend (who happens to be an NFL scout) about the character issue. He told me, "if a guy can't play, it doesn't matter what kind of person he is." But when I brought up Leaf, I was shocked to hear him say casually, "I know he'll be on someone's roster this year, and they'll pay him millions."

But why? Leaf's three-year saga has been a testament to bad character. And I'm not talking about common human foibles, like being late to meetings. In football society, character is measured by accountability. Leaf has none. Here's a guy who, much like Kerry Collins in his Panthers days, openly quit on his team. He left them hanging without offering a mea culpa, my fault, or my bad. That's what makes his situation so unique. Football is that rare pocket of society where the team concept actually exists. It's where one man looks another in the eye, owns up to his mistakes and moves on.

So far, Leaf hasn't proven he's that kind of man. When you're 6'5", and throw the rock like few others, the jury takes a little longer to reach a verdict.

Alan Grant, a former NFL defensive back, writes football for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at alan.grant@espnmag.com.