Move Over, O.j.

Lions halfback Barry Sanders sat on a golf cart outside the team's locker room at the Silverdome one day last week and pondered what he once considered unthinkable. In a matter of days he would pass one of pro football's greatest backs ever, O.J. Simpson, and move into eighth place on the NFL's alltime rushing list.

"Wow," Sanders said softly, taken aback. Then he did what he often does when someone extols his achievements. He looked down and searched for the appropriate I-am-not-worthy words. "I'm surprised," he said. "Flattered. Satisfied. I looked up to O.J. as a kid, and I don't feel I've reached the point where I should be mentioned in a football sense with O.J. Simpson. When I was young, I was enraptured by his running."

As is a generation of young fans by the running of Sanders, who at 28 is arguably one of the five best backs ever. Jim Brown was better. Walter Payton probably was, though he didn't make people miss the way Sanders does. But Sanders is certainly in the same league as Simpson and Eric Dickerson.

Simpson rushed for 11,236 yards during an 11-year career, but Sanders exceeded that on 112 fewer carries—and in three fewer seasons. Sanders reached the milestone while piling up 107 yards in a 31-14 loss to the Bears on Sunday at Soldier Field. He has rushed for 11,261 yards in his career on 2,295 carries, and with 1,089 yards this fall he is the first player in Nil. history to rush for 1,000 yards or more in eight consecutive seasons. (The Bills' Thurman Thomas needs 109 yards in the last four games to become the second player to do so.) Though Sanders is running on feet battered by too many games on artificial turf, he is performing as well as ever. "We hadn't faced him in three years, and I swear he hasn't lost a thing." said Seahawks defensive end Michael Sinclair after a 17-16 Detroit victory on Nov. 17. "He's Houdini."

In public, too. "I can move in a crowd virtually unnoticed, which is the way I like it," Sanders says. Strange as it may sound, he believes the anonymity could prolong his career. "It's easy to be preoccupied with other things as you move higher in this game," he says. "That's one of the biggest reasons why people decline. If I continue to love the game and work out the way I do, my decline will be more gradual than some other players'."

The desire is still there. Asked how he would feel in the hours leading up to the game against the Bears, Sanders said, "I'll be anxious. I'll be on the first bus to the stadium. I'll sit in the locker room with butterflies. I'll be excited. It still matters to me. A lot."

How long will that feeling last? He doesn't know. But he won't hang on for a check, and he won't hang on just to chase Payton's alltime rushing record, which is four good seasons—and 5,465 yards—away. "The record seems out of reach," Sanders says. "I don't know if my interest level and desire will last that long. But I'm satisfied with my career. So the end is hardly something to mourn, whenever it comes."

The Allen Watch

On the eve of his team's critical game against the Raiders on Sunday, Seahawks coach Dennis Erickson appeared bedraggled. "My wife tells me I look tired," the red-eyed Erickson said as he sat in his office. "I guess it's that time of year."

The fatigue, however, is not all from studying film and devising game plans. In addition to trying to keep his team in the playoff hunt (a quest not helped by a 27-21 loss to Oakland, which dropped the Seahawks to 5-7) Erickson faces the renewed danger that the franchise will move.