Ageless in Seattle

Got an idea for a movie. Voice from the ether whispers to a computer millionaire with more dollars than sense.

“If you build it,” insists the voice, “he will come.”

So the millionaire builds his dream football stadium in Seattle – using everybody else’s money – and, voila, Shoeless Jerry Rice returns from the dead, running a 5-yard out pattern and screaming at Matt Hasselbeck to throw him the damned ball.

We’ll call it “Field of Fossils.”

Actually, we’ll have to call it “Field of Fossils XXIV,” because this sort of career disinterment has turned Seattle into sport’s most renowned archaeological dig – the Luxor of jockdom, but without any of Tutankhamen’s treasure.

If it’s not Franco Harris, it’s Merton Hanks. If it’s not Patrick Ewing, it’s Chuck Person. If it’s not Rickey Henderson, it’s Kevin Mitchell or Gorman Thomas.

And now it’s Jerry Rice?

What’s next – the Storm signing Carol Blazejowski?

What is it about the Seahawks, the Sonics and the Mariners that they have such a soft spot for the ancients?

It’s as if the mission statement is, “Give us your tired, your aged, your used-up, your years-past-their-primes yearning to cash one more paycheck – or simply unable to let go – and we’ll give you three live arms, or at least a conditional draft pick.”

That’s what the Seahawks parted with on Monday – a conditional seventh-round draft pick – to acquire the 42-year-old Rice from the Oakland Raiders, a struggling 2-4 team who somehow couldn’t squeeze any more help out of the greatest pass receiver in National Football League history. He may as well have been traded for a Cool Zone fan, except that the Raiders may actually have made some use of that. As it is, what they received in exchange for Rice is next year’s first training-camp cut.

That would make it a steal for the Seahawks, if it didn’t seem so damned sad.

Even Dave May, the nobody the Atlanta Braves got when they traded Hank Aaron at the end of his career, had a couple more seasons in him. At least there was a name attached.

This is either a giant miscalculation on Oakland’s part, or the Seahawks have done more than temporarily misplace their road map to the Super Bowl.

Or perhaps it was simply the Seahawks’ turn to do a bellyflop in Seattle’s Fountain of Old.

That must be it. The Sonics had exhumed Ewing for the 2001 season; the Mariners had let Rickey be Rickey in 2000. So the Seahawks were on the clock, especially since their last stab at this, John Randle, actually had a couple of productive seasons.

Perhaps it’s because the Northwest is so far off the celebrity corridor that the stewards of our professional franchises feel the need to bring in these old duffers for a bow.

Yes, the M’s were awash in superstars in the late 1990s – Junior, A-Rod, Big Unit – but before that they were baseball’s most nondescript organization, and hence the parade of Willie Hortons, Richie Zisks and Jeffrey Leonards that were imported for our approval in the post-expansion years. And, yes, the Sonics were world champions in 1979, but achieved that bauble with textbook team play.

As for the Seahawks, well, their one retired number belonged to a guy who was once traded for an eighth-round draft choice.

Oh, yes. Rice will wear Steve Largent’s No. 80 on Sunday against the Arizona Cardinals. Largent gave his blessing.

Go figure. When the Seahawks threw Franco Harris a lifeline 20 years ago, he couldn’t talk Cullen Bryant out of his No. 32. Yeah, that Cullen Bryant.

Seattle’s run of the relics had its beginning back in 1973, when the Sonics traded guard Butch Beard to the Warriors for Mahdi Abdul-Rahman, both previously and currently known as Walt Hazzard. Mahdi/Walt had been a standout with the Original Sonics of 1968, but returned to average a stellar 3.8 points per game. There would be no encore.

From there started the body count. Bob Love, Mo and John Lucas, Bill Cartwright and Terry Cummings for the Sonics. Carl Eller, Harold Jackson, Lawrence McCutcheon, Reggie McKenzie and John Spagnola for the Hawks. Pete O’Brien, Lance Parrish and, yes, even Ken Griffey Sr. for the M’s.

Many have come at no particular cost to the teams beyond their fans’ patience, although the Kevin Mitchell trade – in which the M’s gave up Bill Swift, Mike Jackson and Dave Burba – set the baseball team back years.

This will not be the case with Rice, of course, and in fact there is logic to it. Backup Bobby Engram sprained his ankle in the loss to New England last Sunday and may not be available this weekend, and reports continue to haunt the Seahawks that Koren Robinson – who can be sensational when he manages to catch what’s thrown to him – may soon be a casualty of the league’s substance abuse policy.

As for help from the team’s reserve squad, well, there’s Taco Wallace.

Jerry Rice? Or Taco Wallace?

“We have young, good football team,” said Seahawks coach Mike Holmgren. “By adding Jerry to the puzzle, I really believe with all my heart, it’s going to help us this season immediately.”

Before he fell out of the Raiders’ plans – he’d gone without a catch in three games this season – Rice had been their leading receiver a year ago, with 63 catches for 869 yards.

And two whole touchdowns.

Opponents weren’t scheming to keep the ball away from Jerry Rice. And neither will Seattle’s opponents.

Plus, it seems like a stretch that a legend like Rice who chafed and fussed when the Raiders wouldn’t feature him would now accept a secondary role with the Seahawks. The most graceful of receivers can’t seem to find a graceful way to say goodbye – but then, almost anyone given the chance stays too long.

Still, it must be asked:

How is Rice going to be able to keep two feet in bounds, when he already has one in the coffin?