"People never give athletes credit for knowing themselves."

The words belong to Deion Sanders. They came to mind last week as I took part in a panel discussion about the modern athlete. The topic: how will we view athletes in the future?

The answer lies in the past. In addition to his trademark end-zone dance and garish displays of athleticism, Sanders has helped define the modern athlete by marketing himself with all the shameless zeal of Madonna. And much like Madonna, Sanders embodies entertainment's holy trinity of athlete, performer and businessman. We all know how Madonna's image evolved from virgin whore to gender-bending ingenue (with a mysterious British accent) to nurturing mother with a guitar. Sanders has also carefully and methodically altered his image throughout his career.

In 1989, while sporting a Jheri curl, multiple gold chains and cartoonish grin, Deion the Stylist made it clear that he didn't smoke, drink, or swear. In '94, with the Niners (sans curl), Deion the Daring introduced a roughneck side by scuffling with friend and former teammate Andre Rison. And in '99, Sanders graced the cover of this magazine, Bible in hand, quoting scripture and confessing how he'd cheated on his wife. Deion the Reformed. That convinced me Prime Time always has an agenda.

I met him only once. It was last spring while he was playing for the Cincinnati Reds' Triple-A team, the Louisville RiverBats. After the game, in which he went 0-for-4, I approached him in the clubhouse. While he was putting on a pair of overalls, I told him I wanted to do a story (a cover story, because that's the only kind he does) for The Magazine.

"Nah, bro," he told me. "I'm not doing anything interesting now. Wait until football season." And that was it. Because he hadn't planned the story himself -- hadn't prepared his marketing strategy -- he wasn't doing the interview.

On his way out of the clubhouse, Deion saw his name on the bulletin board for batting practice the next day. "Lord knows I need it," he mumbled.

What Sanders needs now is baseball. And he knows it. "Deion isn't as good as he used to be," says former Redskins secondary coach Ron Meeks. "But he's still good enough." But that's the point. Good enough ain't good enough for Sanders. Deion the Mediocre? No way.

That's why, when asked how he felt about the possibility the Redskins might release him on June 1, he said. "Good, they need to move on."

Deion knows he can't dominate a game anymore, and he needs to move on as well. Before we get too comfortable referring to him as "formerly the NFL's best cover corner," Sanders plans to be entrenched in the Reds outfield.

That's what makes Deion Sanders the athlete of the future. He can't and won't be contained by what is already past.

Alan Grant, a former NFL defensive back, writes football for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at alan.grant@espnmag.com.