No Ends in Sight

Tory James, a starting cornerback for the Oakland Raiders, has ordered a box of football jerseys to keep as NFL mementos. When the package arrives, he will cut it open, neatly remove the contents, grab a pen and make a beeline for Jerry Rice’s locker.

“I’m not a guy who usually gets autographs,” said James, lowering his voice to a near whisper. “I played for Denver and I had a chance to get [John] Elway, Steve Atwater, Terrell Davis. I didn’t. I got here and saw Jerry Rice and thought, I have to get his. He’s a guy you have to get.”

This is nothing new for Rice, who for years has been scribbling his name on helmets, jerseys, posters, anything his teammates sheepishly hand him. He is not only the best receiver in NFL history, but, at 40, the oldest to ever play the position. He has no plans to retire after this season. This game is all about angles, he reasons, so he can still find ways to outsmart young defensive backs whose speedometers climb much higher than his.

“I’ll be 45 and still be trying to run that go route, still be trying to make it to the Super Bowl,” he said with a smile. “This is an opportunity of a lifetime right now. Yeah, there are a lot of players [on the Raiders] who have been around a long time, but I feel like experience really plays an important part. The older players are still producing.”

The thing about Rice is, his career should have been over five years ago. It’s almost inconceivable that he could have recovered from that shredded knee at Tampa -- the devastating injury he suffered Aug. 31, 1997, when Warren Sapp grabbed him by the facemask and essentially corkscrewed him into the ground. But then he could put up such incredible numbers in the aftermath!

Since the injury, Rice has 403 catches for 4,611 yards and 38 touchdowns. That’s more catches than Lynn Swann had in his Hall of Fame career. And we’re talking only about what Rice did after he was 35, with his spaghetti-noodle knee ligaments surgically stitched together.

A lot of people thought he would never recover, or, if he did, he would be a shell of his former self. The Raiders don’t often show sympathy for the 49ers, but Tim Brown was visibly shaken after Rice went down in Tampa.

“Hopefully, with God’s blessing, he’ll be able to come back and play this game, or at least get back on the field,” Brown said at the time.

Little did Brown know that Rice would wind up making the improbable jump across the bay and help lead the Raiders to the doorstep of the Super Bowl. Not only that, but both players confounded critics who said there was no way their colossal egos could survive in the same locker room.

And, yes, they do have colossal egos. But Rice and Brown, first and third in career receptions, have coexisted beautifully over the last two seasons, in large part because both players realize they need each other to get where they want to go.

“Tim and I, we’re similar in ways,” Rice said. “We’re very quiet, and we just go about what we have to do. We haven’t had a day where we’ve had a disagreement -- not about football. On the golf course, it’s a different story.”

And, like any etiquette-conscious golfer, Rice gives Brown honors.

“He’s still the man,” Rice said. “That’s my approach. I’m just here to add onto that, just to do everything possible to try to win a championship. I never wanted to come in and take over being the man. I had too many years with the Niners like that.”

Truth be told, Rice got tired of being the focal point of the 49er offense. Why? Every time his team lost, he felt it was his fault. His last years there were dreary -- the 49ers were 10-22 in 1999 and 2000 -- and the salary-cap-strapped team was paying all the bills from the indulgent years of the mid-1990s.

“I felt there was so much pressure on me to make plays all the time and win a football game,” he said. “If I didn’t, I was devastated by it.”

When he and the 49ers parted ways after the 2000 season, both sides were hungry for a change. The 49ers were ready to further develop Terrell Owens, and Rice was itching to find a place where he felt embraced and appreciated. He didn’t have to look far, although signing with the Raiders didn’t feel like the natural thing to do.

“I was scared,” he said. “I was terrified. I didn’t know how the people would respond to me because there’s always been that big rivalry of the Niners and the Raiders.”

That trepidation quickly evaporated. It usually does when your teammates are asking for your autograph.

“Jerry’s the epitome of the game,” Pro Bowl center Barret Robbins said. “He’s the epitome of hard work, the epitome of individual effort, achievement. Simply the best.”

Robbins, who sat out almost all of last season recovering from torn knee ligaments, said one of the things that inspired him was remembering how Rice bounced back from a similar injury.

“Everybody who has that injury looks back to somebody,” Robbins said. “I looked to Jerry.”

Some of the things the Raiders do are downright strange. For instance, on Page 186 of their media guide, they have oil portraits of their Hall of Famers. Al Davis is there, of course, as are Jim Otto, George Blanda, Willie Brown, Gene Upshaw, Fred Biletnikoff, Art Shell, Ted Hendricks, Mike Haynes, Howie Long and Dave Casper.

But there’s a painting of Ronnie Lott in there too, and one of Eric Dickerson. Lott played two seasons for the Raiders, and Dickerson played one.

And they’re Raider Hall of Famers? It’s as comical as it is predictable.

You just know when Rice heads to Canton, the Raiders will post his picture smack-dab in the middle of Page 186. Who cares if he spent his first 16 seasons as a 49er, he’s a Raider now. And you know what? Rice won’t mind a bit.

“Hey,” he said, “I look good in silver and black.”