PRIME TIME

By STEVE WULF SAN FRANCISCO

Two days before the 49ers were to meet the Dallas Cowboys in the de facto Super Bowl, Deion Sanders, the 49ers cornerback, Cincinnati Reds centerfielder and Bust It Records rap star, was asked if he would trade all his jewelry-some pawnshops have less-for one Super Bowl ring. Sanders paused, then lifted his sleeve to reveal not one, not two, but three ostentatious watches, and said, "Definitely." Why three watches, you ask? Simple: The man keeps Pacific, Eastern and Prime Time.

In some ways Sanders, a.k.a. Neon Deion (which he hates) and Prime Time (which he embraces), seems from yet another time. He has Satchel Paige's wit and flair for self-promotion, Cab Calloway's sense of outrageous style and Jim Thorpe's mind-boggling athletic ability. In the 49ers' 38-28 victory over their nemesis, the Cowboys, on Jan. 15, Sanders stifled the Dallas receivers, intercepted a crucial pass near the San Francisco goal line, and bugged his coach, George Seifert, so much that he was allowed to return a kickoff for the first time all season. He also demonstrated two of his many sides to Cowboys quarterback Troy Aikman. Asked what he said to Aikman after helping the quarterback get off the ground after a sack, Sanders replied, "I told him to keep his head up and not get discouraged. Then I told him to throw me one." And in the postgame press conference Sanders displayed his gift for hyperbole. Asked about his decision earlier this season to sign with the 49ers for much less money than he would have got from other teams, Sanders said, "Forget finances. I'm knocking on the door of a dream. It was the greatest decision in the history of sports." Hmmm, let's see, there was the decision to integrate baseball, the decision to institute the forward pass . . . oh, never mind.

The real Super Bowl XXIX, which will be played this Sunday in Miami, will match the 49ers, who are trying to become the first team to win five Super Bowls, against the six-feet-underdog San Diego Chargers, whose only useful purpose, it seems, is to make this the first all-California Super Bowl. The game will have added significance when Sanders takes the field: he will become the first player to participate in both the World Series and the N.F.L. championship.

He also may set records in the week preceding the Super Bowl for most column inches written about one player, most endorsements generated, and largest entourage. Because he grew up in Fort Myers, Florida, Prime Time will have more hangers-on than teammates in Miami. All the bodyguards and the dollar-sign medallions and the commercials and the flashy cars have tended to obscure the full range of his athletic talents. But even those who love to hate him, love to watch him.

He was recently named the N.F.L.'s Defensive Player of the Year, and he batted .283 this year with 38 stolen bases for the Atlanta Braves and Cincinnati Reds. In the 1992 World Series for the Braves, Sanders batted .533 with five stolen bases in four games. The Braves traded him to the Reds in May, partly because the front office had tired of his act, but there are those who think that if he sticks to baseball, he might put up Rickey Henderson-like numbers.

Because the baseball season ended so abruptly, Sanders, who had become a free agent after five years with the Atlanta Falcons, was able to shop himself around to N.F.L. teams just a few games into the season. Several teams wanted him, but it came down to the money offered by the New Orleans Saints-$17 million over four years-or the possibility offered by the 49ers, who were also willing to give him $1.134 million this year, with an additional $750,000 thrown in if they made the Super Bowl.

Tom Holmoe, a former 49er defensive back who now coaches the secondary, says, "When we got Deion, we knew we were getting the best coverage man around. But what we didn't know we were getting was a guy who studies film and works hard." Much has been made of the Deionization of the 49ers, how his dances and bandannas loosened up one of the N.F.L.'s most conservative organizations. "I don't know if the dancing had anything to do with it," says Holmoe, "but he did show the team that you can have fun and relax, and at the same time prepare and play hard."

But Sanders is also a modern athlete, and as such he can be a huge pain in the butt. In the spring of 1993 he refused to return to the Braves after his father's funeral because he did not enjoy his platoon role; and when the club suspended him, Sanders called that "the worst betrayal by a team in all sports history." Though there's nothing major on his rap sheet, Sanders' penchant for trouble is well documented. Perhaps his greatest crime, though, was icing, which is a minor infraction in hockey but a major felony when it involves Tim McCarver. During the celebration that followed the Braves' win over the Pittsburgh Pirates in Game 7 of the 1992 National League championship series, Sanders dumped a bucket of ice water on McCarver, a cbs announcer who had criticized him for trying to play for both the Falcons in Miami and the Braves in Pittsburgh on the previous Sunday. "You guys don't know the real Deion," says defensive end Tim Harris. "Deion is good people." By all accounts, he doesn't drink or swear, and he is a devoted son, husband and father: he has a daughter, Diondra, and a son, Deion Jr. Even Holmoe, a Brigham Young graduate who is as straight an arrow as there is in the quiver, can't hide his affection for Sanders. "You can tell a lot about a person by the way he acts around kids. I have a 12-year-old daughter who's a dancer, and she loves his style. And I have two boys who wear the bandannas Deion gave them-'do rags- all the time. You have to draw the line somewhere, though. They can't wear them to church. But I've got nothing but good things to say about Prime Time."

Which just happens to be the name of his album. Prime Time is every bit as confusing as the man himself. On one track, Must Be the Money, he boasts of turning library cards into credit cards, and on another, Movin', he gets in some very nasty licks against both Tiny Tim McCarver and another of his sworn enemies, Spike Lee. But there's also a nice tribute to his father and a song that asks you to "respect your woman." There's even a track called Heidy Heidy Hey, which probably has the recently deceased Mr. Calloway stirring in his grave. Prime Time, you see, can't sing. He can just play.

It's not just Deion who thinks he may be the greatest athlete in the history of sports.