CHARLOTTE, N.C. -- There is a hill, nestled in an industrial park, where Jadeveon Clowney ran up and down until his body could take no more, and then he dropped to the ground and did power push-ups. Evidence of this is gone; the footprints have been washed away by the spring rain, but fear not, Clowney was here, on the hill and in a nearby gym, working hard. Check out the barbells inside. Clowney's sweaty fingerprints were all over them. And when his training sessions were over, Clowney asked if he could do more, but he was told no, because that was too much.

Jed Hartigan, a boyish-looking stubbly-faced trainer who owns Velocity Sports Performance in Charlotte, says Clowney "trained his ass off" during their sessions in this long spring of discontent leading up to the NFL draft. While anonymous NFL execs were tearing Clowney down in various media outlets, calling him lazy and spoiled in the media, Hartigan was building him up.

Hartigan has trained numerous professional football players, but Clowney's different. He's been called a once-in-a-generation player, a genetic freak of nature. For weeks, fans traveled for miles in their red-and-black South Carolina Gamecocks gear just to watch the ballyhooed pass-rusher jump rope. He is under heavy scrutiny, and Clowney's camp isn't leaving anything to chance.

When his agent, Bus Cook, sent him to Hartigan to help him prepare for his April 2 pro day, his instructions were precise. Clowney had to weigh 266 pounds, not a pound heavier or he might have been deemed fat and out of shape; not a pound lighter, because then the whispers would focus on how Clowney wasn't lifting enough weights.

"We wanted to make sure everything was perfect," Hartigan said, "just because of what was said about his work ethic and his conditioning. We wanted to make sure he was in phenomenal shape just to shut up the critics."

Clowney, Hartigan says, isn't an outwardly talkative guy. He likes to smile and joke around, and maybe that makes him come across as being lackadaisical. But he's prideful. Sometimes, when Clowney would be gassed, Hartigan reminded him of how many coaches would be watching him on pro day, how many cameras would be covering it live, and how embarrassing it would be if he vomited in front of them or had to quit.

"That's not going to happen," he'd say.

Blame it on the NFL for pushing back this year's draft two weeks, and the fact that there's nothing else to talk about until May 8. Blame South Carolina coach Steve Spurrier, who stirred the pot a bit in February when he called Clowney's work ethic just "OK." But maybe the only one you can blame for this whole mess is Clowney for drawing too much attention to himself.

He finished sixth in the Heisman Trophy voting as a 19-year-old sophomore, a rarity for a defensive player. Then there was the hit, on New Year's Day 2013, that has been replayed so many times it almost seems redundant to type. Clowney exploded into the Michigan backfield in the Outback Bowl and hit running back Vincent Smith with such force that it jarred Smith's helmet off his head. From that day on, stories about Clowney's athletic prowess flowed like sweet tea at a Carolina barbecue.

He was called the greatest defensive player since Lawrence Taylor; he was Superman and supposedly even wore a cape as a baby. He was projected as a lock for the No. 1 draft pick in 2013, but he couldn't declare because he was just two years removed from high school.

So Clowney went back to school, and had a non-superhuman year at South Carolina in which he amassed just a fraction of his sophomore statistics, and here he finds himself, surrounded by questions about motivation. Does he really love football? Has he been skating by on talent? Did he shut it down in 2013, saving his body and bank account?

Is he still worth a No. 1 pick?

"I haven't seen a concentrated lack of effort," said Charley Casserly, a former Washington Redskins and Houston Texans general manager who now works for the NFL Network. "I've seen a play here or there maybe. But I saw it the year before, too. I don't see it being a real bad issue on a team. People were double-teaming him at times, and sometimes they had three people on him. They'd run away from him.

"Sometimes, the numbers just don't come your way, even though you're playing. Especially with a defensive lineman. You can do your job, but the ball might go away more often and you may not have an opportunity to make a play."

Clowney, for his part, says he "works just as hard as anybody." He's tired of answering questions about his passion, and says the only opinions he cares about are those of his teammates. "He knows what he does," former Gamecocks defensive linemate Kelcy Quarles said. "If you know you do a good job, you don't have to worry about it. He works hard to me. He does everything I do."

In these long days before May 8, Clowney is comforted by his agent, Cook, a grizzled vet whose client list includes Brett Favre, Cam Newton and Calvin Johnson. This is the dance that goes on each spring, Cook tells his client. He reminds him that in 2012, mock drafters questioned Andrew Luck's mobility. He tells him the story of how in the days leading up to the 2011 draft, Newton was called everything from selfish to immature to phony.

The Carolina Panthers still drafted Newton No. 1 overall, proving that pre-draft chatter oftentimes doesn't mean anything inside the confines of an NFL war room.

"These teams have been putting together their boards for six months with painstaking evaluation, and obviously, there's not a lot about Clowney that they don't know," said former Green Bay Packers exec Andrew Brandt, an ESPN analyst.

"My sense is since Jan. 1 of 2013, his status is pretty set."

Clowney's takedown of Vincent Smith in the Outback Bowl continues to light up YouTube. Steve Jacobson for ESPN

This should be easy for the Houston Texans, holders of the No. 1 pick, right? Clowney has a wingspan of nearly 7 feet -- the same as that of LeBron James. Clowney has raw, explosive power, moves with the agility of a cornerback, and ran the 40-yard dash in a jaw-dropping 4.53 seconds at the NFL combine. People close to Clowney say he was disappointed in that time, because he knows he can run a 4.50 flat. He plays defensive end, but can line up anywhere along the line. He is covered in muscle and can toss his opponents around like rag dolls. He is disruptive and had 13 sacks and 23.5 tackles for loss in 2012.

Here's why it's not so easy: No one can truly know a 21-year-old's brain. Clowney is intelligent and polite, and can charm you with his "yes sirs" and "thank yous." But then he hands in a résumé that's incomplete. His 2013 season left questions, from his drop to three sacks, to the chatter -- from former NFL players and anonymous execs -- that he appeared unmotivated. Hall of Fame defensive tackle Warren Sapp is the latest, saying on the NFL Network this week that Clowney doesn't seem to play with a sense of urgency.

Clowney dropped in mock drafts; he rose in mock drafts. He wowed with his 40-yard dash at the combine; he disappointed when he did just 21 repetitions on the 225-pound bench press.

"There's a pattern of inconsistency," said former Dallas Cowboys exec Gil Brandt, a fellow NFL Network analyst. "And these are the guys that you get fooled on. He has great talent, and you can survive with great talent and not work hard on every down in high school. But when you get to the next level, it becomes harder to do it.