By TIM DAHLBERG, AP Sports Columnist

Rickey Henderson once was trying to explain why he deserved a few million more dollars to play baseball than his team at the time was offering him.

Rickey being Rickey, his answer made perfect sense.

&uot;All I’m asking for is what I want,&uot; Henderson said.

What Henderson wants these days is to play in the major leagues, though, as the Rolling Stones once noted, sometimes you can’t always get what you want. Still, there’s a certain charm seeing him in uniform again, even if it says Surf Dawgs on the front.

The other night in San Diego, the 46-year-old Henderson was hitting, running and stealing bases like he was a pup of 40 once again. He even retrieved a teammate’s bat and handed it to him, proving, of course, that you can teach an old dawg new tricks.

&uot;I love doing what I’m doing,&uot; Henderson says. &uot;I love playing baseball.&uot;

Jerry Rice loves football, too. Loves it too much, probably.

Loves it so much he could barely sit still Thursday while discussing his prospects of playing in the

NFL at the age of 42.

&uot;I wanted one more chance,&uot; Rice said.

Rice got it, but just barely. His agent marketed him around the league as &uot;GOAT&uot; &045; Greatest Of All Time &045; a position seemingly already occupied by Muhammad Ali. But even that dubious boast got him nothing more than the promise of a tryout as a role player and backup receiver for the Denver Broncos.

You can’t blame the other teams for passing on Rice, even though he’s by far the most prolific receiver in the history of the league. He is, after all, old enough to be the father of most of his new teammates.

Like Henderson, though, the lure of the game proved too strong. They are two of the greatest to ever play their games, but neither is content to take his millions and walk away while the walking is still good.

Unlike Henderson, who gets your attention every time he’s on the field, there’s nothing particularly intriguing about watching Rice add to the 303 games he’s already played in the NFL. He’s been reduced to a possession receiver by virtue of his age, an afterthought in any offense.

There’s no guarantee Rice will even play for the Broncos. His contract is not guaranteed, and Rice will have to beat out kids half his age to win a spot on the roster.

&uot;It’s not going to be any red carpet,&uot; Rice said. &uot;I will have to earn my job. That’s the way I preferred it.&uot;

Actually, there was no other way Rice was going to get it. The NFL is a brutal business that passes out guarantees only sparingly &045; especially for a guy who will turn 43 during the season.

What the Broncos really want to see before they commit is not how Rice’s legs are, but what his mindset is.

This is a player used to being the man, a player once firmly attached to the spotlight. Rice didn’t make 1,549 catches and score 197 touchdowns by telling Joe Montana or Steve Young in the huddle that they might be better off throwing it to someone else.

Whether he can take a subservient role to young receivers eager to prove themselves in training camp will likely determine whether the Broncos risk a roster spot on him.

Rice went out of his way to say as much. &uot;I had a lot of weight on my shoulders. I had blinders on. I couldn’t hear the crowd,&uot; he said. &uot;The last couple of years I was not the focus of attention. The ball was not coming my way every down, and I’m really enjoying the game and having fun.&uot;

Fun seems to be the operating concept among 40-somethings in sports these days. Even the crotchety Barry Bonds is talking about how much fun it will be to return from knee surgery and

play again.

Which brings us back to Henderson, who certainly looked like he was having fun Thursday night when he went 2-for-3 with two walks and a stolen base in the opening game for the Surf Dawgs in the new independent Golden Baseball League.

&uot;The 46-year-old guy, it was a good night,&uot; said Henderson, who only recently was calling baseball general managers looking for a job saying &uot;This is Rickey, calling on behalf of Rickey.&uot;

Henderson played 25 years in the big leagues, and is arguably the game’s greatest leadoff hitter. He’s the career leader in runs and stolen bases, and who could ever forget him declaring himself the greatest in front of Lou Brock after breaking Brock’s stolen base record in 1991?

OK, so he was playing cards in the locker room while his New York Mets teammates desperately tried to win a playoff game in 1999. And, yes, he was a hot dog who talked to himself at the plate and was so self-absorbed he probably couldn’t name half his teammates at any given time.

But somehow you root for Henderson to make it back in the bigs. Even if you don’t miss his legs, you miss his mouth.

&uot;They’re either scared of me that I’m going to make the club, or scared of me that I’m not going to make the club,&uot; he says.

Like many things Rickey, it makes little sense.

Or maybe about as much sense as Jerry Rice playing for the Denver Broncos.