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<UID>
9501030985
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<PUBLICATION>
DETROIT FREE PRESS
</PUBLICATION>
<DATE>
950125
</DATE>
<TDATE>
Wednesday, January 25, 1995
</TDATE>
<EDITION>
METRO FINAL
</EDITION>
<SECTION>
SPT
</SECTION>
<PAGE>
1C
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<ILLUSTRATION>
Photo Color BLAKE SELL/Reuters;Photo Color SUSAN RAGAN/Associated Press
</ILLUSTRATION>
<CAPTION>


:
San Francisco cornerback Deion Sanders looks like a small fish
in a big pond on media day, but looks are deceiving.
Deion Sanders insists he does not have life all backwards
-- that Neon is a means to an end.
</CAPTION>
<BYLINE>
MITCH ALBOM
</BYLINE>
<AFFILIATION>

</AFFILIATION>
<MEMO>

</MEMO>
<COPYRIGHT>
Copyright (c) 1995, Detroit Free Press
</COPYRIGHT>
<HEADLINE>
SANDERS BAITS HOOK, AND THEY ALL GO FOR IT
</HEADLINE>
<SUBHEAD>

</SUBHEAD>
<CORRECTION>

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<BODY>
MIAMI --  Fishing. Deion wants to go fishing. As soon as he's done with
this annoying army of international media, he wants to hit the water, bait the
hook, reel and cast. Or is it cast and reel?  What's the difference? Deion
will make it up as he goes along.

  "When I retire that's all I'm gonna do. Fish, fish, fish. I'm gonna know
every fish in my lake by name. I'm gonna say, 'Look, there  goes Bubba the
fish.' "

  "Will you have your own fishing show?" someone yells. "On ESPN?"
  "Yeah. And if not ESPN, I'm sure ESPN2 would accommodate me."
  "Hey, Deion. What's your biggest catch  so far?"
  "An 8-pound bass."
  Wrong. His biggest catch so far is right here in front of him, hundreds of
reporters, broadcasters and cameramen gathered around his Super Bowl podium.
Reel and cast.  Pull them in.
  It is not every man who can name a fish Bubba. But then, not every man is
Deion Sanders. Not every man plays two pro sports, cuts a rap record, takes a
pay cut to  reach a million a  year and arrives for opening day of Super Bowl
festivities wearing a Nike visor turned backwards and upside down, so that the
bill sticks up behind his left ear. He looks like you could turn him over  and
scoop french fries.
  Prime Time at the Prime Ticket. The Most Hyped Player at the Most Hyped
Event. It's like hydrogen meeting oxygen.
  "Deion? Did you really buy a Lamborghini?"
  "Yes.  It's a present from me to me. I made out the card, 'Merry Christmas,
from me to me.' "
  "Deion! Critics say you don't like to tackle."
  "Hell, no, I don't like to tackle. They don't pay me to tackle.  That's
what linebackers are for. I'm here to knock down passes, run back
interceptions and dance."
  "Deion! Will you play for the 49ers next year?"
  "I would love to play for the 49ers next year.  . . . But I sacrificed a
lot to play here. I'm playing for a million dollars, OK? Next year, I WILL NOT
BE playing for a million dollars, let's get that STRAIGHT."
  He smiles. "We may just have another  off-season tour."
The birth of Prime Time
  
  It was one of those tours -- the free agent kind -- that landed Deion with
the 49ers in the first place. He shopped himself, turned down three times  as
much money from his old losing team, the Falcons, to sign with winning San
Francisco, the best bet to reach the Super Bowl. A gamble for glory.
  And now, here he is, five days from a championship, something that, despite
all his noise, Sanders has never won, not in college, not in baseball (he did
get to a World Series once with the losing Braves) and not in the NFL.
  If the 49ers win, as  predicted -- and Deion has a big game, returning
kicks, knocking down passes, whatever -- well, even the sky could be too big a
limit for his image.
  "If we win, I look like the smartest guy in the  world, don't I?"
  At least one of the most clever. Make no mistake, he may dance like a
marionette and bejewel himself like a treasure chest, but Deion Sanders, 27,
is a bright young man. He may not be able to tell you where Liechtenstein is
on a map, but he can point out the quarterback, the running back and the
defensive back, and he can tell you that the first two get rich and the third
gets  forgotten -- unless you turn it into a character.
  Deion Sanders did.
  Intentionally.
  "I sat down and said, 'What do I have to do to make enough money to build
my mother her dream house?' Bing!  'Prime Time' was born."
  From as early as high school he was toying with nicknames, and by the time
he reached Florida State, he was a legend in his own mind. This is a guy who
used to wear as many  as eight gold chains at a time, who once showed up for a
college game in a stretch limo and white tuxedo, who, when drafted by the
Atlanta Falcons, arrived at the airport, grabbed a microphone and said,  "It's
 five minutes to eight, and the thrill is here!"
  Low key is not an issue.
  His childhood hero, Lester Hayes, once said of Sanders: "He is destined to
spend some time in a penitentiary."  Deion gave him up as a hero. He will not
be dissed. He will simply go on.
  "Look," he said Tuesday, in a suddenly lucid moment, "where I come from
(Ft. Myers, Fla.), the drug dealers were the heroes.  They wore the gold, the
jewelry, they were looked up to. What I did was take all that but show that
you can do it for a positive goal. To be an athlete.
  "In the inner city, it went over well, I was  a king. But in white society,
I was looked upon badly. I understand that. I won and I lost. . . . 
  "A lot of people aren't ready for someone like me, a cocky young black man
who speaks his mind.  A lot of players aren't honest with you (media) guys. .
. . I'm the same guy all the time. I shoot straight. I don't lie. I live what
I say."
  Of course, this is the same guy who once said he was  two different people.
  
Neon or nice?
  
  
  The truth is, Deion -- who gets turned on by the big spotlight, but annoyed
with the little ones -- really is a hybrid, a defensive player who  wants to
play offense, a tackler who doesn't like to tackle, a glory hound who wants a
team championship. He will, for example, give a passionate defense of his
celebrating, saying, "I don't taunt anyone.  I don't rub it in. I'm just
having fun." But the fact is, he made a career of taunting at Florida State --
yelling to the opposing team, "This one's coming back on you" -- and that
skirmish he had with  Atlanta's Andre Rison this season wasn't exactly kiss
and hug.
  Or he says, "All I want right now is that ring, I don't need to be the
star." But in the next breath, he's talking about how much money  it will take
to keep him here.
  So which is the real Deion, the Lamborghini or the fishing boat? Both. A
man's image should equal his shadow, and Sanders -- the first man to play in a
World Series  and a Super Bowl -- has made sure he casts a very large shadow.
He dances, he talks about his mom, he compliments Steve Young, he rips Michael
Irvin. He scolds the media, saying, "You don't know me,"  but when someone
yells out, "If we knew you, would we like you?" Sanders smiles.
  "Hell, yeah, you'd like me. You'd want to go fishing with me."
  "Can we go with you today?"
  "Sure. Y'all got  rods?"
  Who needs rods? We just lean Deion over the side of the boat and let him
charm the fish right out of the water.
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