Seafood for thought: Jameis Winston enters NFL world where jokes aren't tolerated much from rookies

We knew the first night of the NFL draft wouldn't be complete without some stir involving Jameis Winston. The newly minted Tampa Bay Buccaneers quarterback posed with some crab legs after getting selected first overall Thursday night and that immediately blotted out the social media sun and began a "news" cycle.

There are two takeaways: one, this is minor; two, there's an underlying issue here that is not minor.

First, the photo itself. It's a leap to say Winston was baiting critics or showing some sort of arrogance after being taken No. 1. It's more likely he was showing appreciation to someone from "The Deadliest Catch" who was trying to raise money for charity. As former Bucs quarterback Shaun King explained on Twitter, the crab legs shown in the photo were probably an acknowledgement of a gift rather than some trophy for enduring the flap over his stealing of shellfish from Publix.

Odds are this was Winston saying he gets the joke rather than him saying the joke's on us.

All that said, there is a serious truth revealed in an otherwise benign episode: Winston is not in the Jimbo Fisher cocoon anymore. He is now in a professional organization, and one that has had notably few outsized personalities over the years. The Bucs have been built and led by heady stars like Derrick Brooks, John Lynch and Ronde Barber. The latest in the chain is Gerald McCoy, who is far more bookish than brash. Yes, Warren Sapp is certainly outlandish, but during his career he understood the franchise and the need to keep out of the limelight off the field. The Glazer family is almost silent in the media, and it's not a coincidence that it cherishes Tony Dungy and Lovie Smith. Neither of those coaches are the least bit tolerant of silliness.

Fisher is hard-edged, but he defended Winston repeatedly. He seemed to treat his quarterback more like a wayward son than a misbehaving employee. It was the higher-ups at Florida State who disciplined Winston most, sitting him for the entirety of a key conference game against Clemson last year. And when Winston ran out on the field for warm-ups before that game in full pads, Fisher's reaction was closer to exasperation than anger.

Both Winston and his career at FSU were bolstered by the fact that time was short; he was leaving soon. Well, he is not leaving the Bucs soon. He is a de facto face of a franchise that very much wants McCoy to be its face of the franchise. The other stars on the team, players like Vincent Jackson and Doug Martin, are as unassuming as the head coach. And after the histrionics of Greg Schiano vanished, the facility itself became extremely business-like. It was sometimes hard to tell the players were practicing for a game, rather than preparing for a GoToMeeting. The Smith culture is now firmly entrenched; most of the players from the prior era have been removed. And it wasn't like Schiano was a players' coach; he had very little patience for Josh Freeman even though he had a good start to his career.

Winston, meanwhile, thrived in Tallahassee by toeing the fine line between youthful and childish. In his first season, before the sexual assault allegations against him emerged, he was loved almost unanimously for being fun and playful. He challenged reporters to bop him on the head with a microphone if he caught "Manziel disease." He was filmed in the Seminoles locker room before a huge Clemson win, bragging like a boxer about to enter the ring. His smile was infectious and he had a rare kind of quarterback charisma: a blend of "do it big" bravado and aw-shucks mirth.

The call for him to grow up is now tired and paternalistic, but that's just it: he didn't have to grow up in school. He derived his charm and leadership from a Peter Pan style that helped those around him relax. From his first college game, under the lights at Pitt on a Labor Day evening, to the winning drive in the BCS Championship, and even during his one-game suspension when he cheered on backup Sean Maguire, Winston's mix of main event and sideshow style took the edge off.

That won't likely be the case in Tampa.

Leadership at One Buc Place is measured almost completely by results. There's no patience for rationalizations or explanations. Rookie year shenanigans, however benign, will grate quickly with Smith. And the fact that still-young Mike Glennon is around will shorten fuses further.

The last time we saw Winston play, Fisher famously threatened to bench his quarterback if he didn't keep quiet. That was mostly a toothless salvo; Winston was not getting run from a playoff game. But this year? With Glennon holding a clipboard? Smith won't hesitate for long.

Posing with the crab legs probably got some chuckles from Florida State teammates and fans. Hey, it was amusing. But to an organization where "off the field behavior" means public service, it probably didn't go over too well. The distinction is rather simple: Winston could shape the culture of the team at Florida State; in Tampa, he has to let the culture shape him.