By Erik Brady, USA TODAY

By David Kohl, AP

CINCINNATI — The sign over Deion Sanders' locker in the Cincinnati Reds' clubhouse comes from Psalm 37: "Delight thyself also in the Lord and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart." Which is what the world wants to know from the two-sport star these days: What is the desire of thine heart? Baseball? Football? Dost thou know thyself? Sanders just smiles. He'll play baseball this summer. He'll stay with the Reds for as long as their season lasts, through September at least. Will he rejoin the NFL's Washington Redskins after that? He won't say. "I have never dishonored a contract" is as far as he goes.

Sanders burst into the American sporting consciousness again last week, like fireworks in the night sky, in his first major league game in four seasons. He had three hits in three at-bats, including a three-run home run — and, for good measure, moved along the eventual winning run with a sacrifice bunt.

His bat has been mostly quiet since, but our interest is piqued again. "Prime Time," the only man to play in the World Series and the Super Bowl, has renewed his ability to entertain and amaze — what he calls "maximizing my moments."

Except that he insists the man we know as Prime Time is not the real Deion and never was. He says he invented the Prime Time persona as a personal marketing ploy. It made him a star, and it made him money. Now, he says, the world does not want to let go of its image of him as a strutting sinner in a zoot suit — and as the best cornerback in NFL history merely moonlighting in the majors.

Sanders says neither of those things is who he is anymore. He gave up womanizing years ago. And football? He won't say if he's giving it up. But he hints at it.

"You've got to understand that my desires in football are quenched. What else is there for me to do in football? That's not a desire of my heart anymore. I've had all that."

He is a great NFL player, perhaps the best ever at his position. He is only a good baseball player. He wants to be great, and, at 33, his time to get great is short. So he toils for the Reds in center field, trying to help gain a playoff spot that would delay his NFL season, if there is to be one, into October.

Sanders has been an eccentric star on the public stage for so long, and has maximized his moments so often, that perhaps we had forgotten just how talented an athlete he is. Reds general manager Jim Bowden never forgets. He signs Sanders to play baseball again every few years, even when other teams pass on the chance.

"We're talking about one of the best athletes in the world," Bowden says. "He's in the category of Michael Jordan, Michael Johnson and Bo Jackson. I think those are the best athletes of our time. When Deion puts his mind to it, I don't think there is anything he can't do."

Jordan found out he couldn't hit the curveball in 1994, when he spent a year with the Chicago White Sox's Class AA team in Birmingham, Ala. The jury is still out on Sanders. He is 1-for-14 at the plate since his storybook opening night. He has looked unsure of himself at times in the outfield. "I'm just a little rusty, that's all," he says. "It'll come. All I need is time."

Time is what there never has been enough of for a man talented enough to play two sports whose seasons overlap. From 1989 to 1995, and again in 1997, Sanders tried to juggle both, flying between cities to stay with two teams. This time, Sanders seems to say he will give baseball his undivided attention.

Which puts the Redskins in a tough spot. They signed him to a 6-year, $56 million contract before last season, including an $8 million signing bonus. Sanders seems satisfied to let the Redskins twist slowly in the wind, not even telling them what his plans are. They might be better off releasing him for salary-cap relief. Maybe that's what Sanders wants. That way he could sign with another NFL club once the Reds' season is over, although Bowden says he hopes Sanders will commit himself to baseball year-round this time.

Sanders stands to make $3.5 million with the Redskins next season. He is making $500,000 with the Reds. "It's not about dollars," Bowden says. "It's about making it work."

Eugene Parker, Sanders' agent, says Sanders' contract specifically allows him to report to the Redskins after baseball season, so long as he is playing in the big leagues. "That's something he's had in every football contract," Parker says. "That's just routine business for him. Deion has always kept that option open."

Sanders dismisses the notion that he has been unfair to the Redskins. "Just putting that in the contract," he says, "let them know about my plans."

He was upset when the Redskins let go defensive coordinator Ray Rhodes after last season. "Ray is one of the reasons I came to the Redskins," Sanders says. "Now some of those reasons are dispersed."

He says he is weary of the football question: Will he or won't he? Everyone asks it, even his kids. What did he tell them? "The truth." Which is? "I can't tell you that," he says, laughing. "You're not one of my kids."

'Too blessed to be stressed'

Sanders says he found his road to salvation on a highway in Cincinnati.

In his 1998 autobiography, Power, Money and Sex: How Success Almost Ruined My Life, Sanders tells how he struggled with depression, adultery and divorce — and even attempted suicide in 1997 by running his car off the road. He says now that the Lord was not ready to take him. He says he had an epiphany at that moment. Until then, the desires of his heart were found in nightclubs. Now he says he has turned his life to the Lord. He wears a chain necklace with a diamond-encrusted cross. Even his faith is flamboyant.

"Delight thyself in the Lord," Sanders says. "It means to be engulfed by him. Exhaust yourself in all that he is. And a lot of people misconstrue the scripture by thinking that if you get with the Lord, he is going to give you what you want. That's not it. Because if you right yourself with the Lord, He is going to put new desires in your heart. That is what happened to me. It's my favorite scripture."

Sanders played well for the Reds in 1997, his most recent stint in baseball. "His life was in total disarray and yet he hit .270 and stole 56 bases," Bowden says. "He led our team in triples and was second in hits. And as you watched him through that year, you thought, 'Wow, imagine if his life was at peace.' And that always stayed in my mind."

Which is why Bowden signed Sanders again during the winter. Sanders spent the first month of the season at Louisville in Class AAA and hit .459. He was called up last week to replace Ken Griffey Jr., who has a sore hamstring. Griffey was at home watching on TV when Sanders hit his home run.

"I started yelling, and my wife came in and said, 'Quiet, the kids are asleep,' " Griffey says. "And I said, 'Deion hit a homer!' And she said, 'What?' And then she was yelling."

Sanders is popular with teammates. His cell phone rings. "Praise the Lord," he says in salutation. "Eight ball! How you doing?" The congratulatory call is from Redskins reserve quarterback Todd Husak. "He wears No. 8, and I call him 'Eight ball.' He played five snaps all season, but we're close friends. A Caucasian guy from Stanford — and we make two-and-two together."

Sanders has not hit much since his boffo opening night. Such slumps used to beget tantrums.

"Back then I would throw my bat and scream," he says. "But that time is gone. I'm too blessed to be stressed. I'm at peace now. I really have a good time being saved. Years ago I was sexing women and doing those things and commanding millions of dollars. But none of those things gave me what I wanted. I had to find the true desires of my heart."

Fishing for his calling

We live in an age of specialization, when many kids pick one sport at an early age and forget about the rest of them. Perhaps that is what we find so endlessly fascinating about Sanders: He is a servant of two masters.

"No, three," he corrects. "The Lord is my real boss. These other people are just playing a role."

Skeptics sometimes wonder whether Sanders is playing a role. He did, after all, invent his Prime Time persona that he now insists was faked. Who's to say the saved Sanders is not just another elaborate act?

It is not an attractive American trait that we often distrust the publicly reformed when they flaunt their faith. Maybe it is better to take a man at his word when he tells you he once was lost and now is found.

His legacy in football is secure. He is trying to build one in baseball. So, Deion, are there any other sports you want to try? "Fishing," he says. "The pro bass tour. That's what I want to do next."

Sounds like a great one-liner, but Sanders says he is serious. He has a lake stocked with fish at his estate in suburban Dallas. Besides, Jesus called his apostles fishers of men. Sanders says his primary mission after sports will be as a minister: "It's my calling. I can't escape it."

The Bible says you must be as a child to enter the kingdom of heaven. The gospel according to Deion is you must be as a child to play sports.

"When I was a kid, I was always running and jumping and dancing and high-stepping," he says. "And I just brought my childhood game into the professional level. That offends some people. But if you go down to any playground, you'll see the kids playing that way, with so much energy. I've got to play so that you can see the love and the zeal and the passion that I have for this game."

Um, Deion, which game?

Sanders smiles broadly. "Both of them," he says. "Any of them. All of them."