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It had been rumored for weeks, since Jerry Rice first realized he was going to be the seventh wheel in the Oakland Raiders' faux offense, but when he was finally traded to the Seattle Seahawks on Monday, the full scope of his diminution became clear.

He was traded to the Seahawks, for a conditional seventh-round draft choice, because Koren Robinson is facing suspension for a third violation of the NFL's drug policy, and Bobby Engram is hurt, and the Seahawks dropped five balls in their loss at New England.

Now, this news does not affect in any way Rice's standing as the finest receiver in history. Late-career trades do not serve as white-out on a man's body of work.

Still, it smacks hard of Willie Mays-for-Charlie Williams, the definitive giveaway of a Hall of Famer for whatever-they-could-get. Or Jackie Robinson-for-Dick Littlefield, a trade that actually was never completed because Robinson refused to be a New York Giant.

I mean, as messages go, this one is even starker than the news that Rich Gannon, next to Ken Stabler and Jim Plunkett the most important quarterback in Raider history, will not play again this year. Gannon's fractured neck is pretty definitive stuff, a severe blow to what minimal hope the Raiders had for a decent season, but it's understandable. Risking paralysis while trying to beat the Chargers is not much of a brain-buster.

The Rice deal, though, is a remarkable statement for a man who really is staying past his sell-by date.

True, Rice should get to pick the method of his departure, but that concept is no longer available to him. This trade comes as close as a trade can come to telling a guy he's unwanted, because even a non-conditional seventh round pick is essentially a training camp cut.

Of course, there have been so many Rice retrospectives done over the years that there is no point to it any more. He did everything a receiver could do, over and over and over again. We know that, and even if we'd forgotten it the first 336 times it had been mentioned, the last thousand references would have convinced us.

But he stayed and stayed and stayed, and finally ended up on a bad team with no interest in using him, a team that is so much in back-up-the-truck mode that they are approaching garage sale prices for anything that looks interesting.

Which leads him to Seattle.

Mike Holmgren can be a bit of sentimentalist when he can afford to be, and apparently Rice's remaining $1.35 million salary was easily absorbable.

But it took the confluence of Seattle's wide receiver difficulties and the Raiders' willingness to take anything down to and including a like-new printer/fax machine that made this deal as doable as it is unsightly.

For one, Rice gets to wear his familiar No. 80 with the Seahawks, even if it's been hanging in the rafters with Steve Largent's name on it. It's believed to be the first time that a number has been un-retired for a guy who cost you a seventh-round pick.

For two, Rice will be a depth receiver at best, which means the role he said he could not accept in Oakland is the only role being offered him in Seattle.

For three, he will look to all the world like the most damaged of goods. People thought Mays looked bad by grinding out one last year with the Mets, an accurate if harsh assessment, and Rice's new job can only bring back those memories.

Should he retire rather than accept this seeming humiliation? He wants to play, someone wants him to play for them, and that's that, that'll be that, and that's the end of that.

Should he retire rather than accept this stain on his legacy? Only if you think his legacy can be stained, and there are a lot of people who understand that deeds of old are not undone by a change of fortune.

Should he retire rather than accept this change in fortune? Well, that's another topic.

You'd like to think he was financially secure enough to just say, "Never mind," but nobody can know what his away-from-football situation might be. Maybe he needs the game too much for his own good. Maybe he fears what his apres-football days might be. Maybe he needs the comforts of the locker room and the validation for services rendered too much. Maybe he just needs to feel the football sliding into his hands one more time, and one more time after that, and ...

Who knows? But Rice as a Seahawk, wearing a different number, and playing only slightly more than he was in Oakland ... well, that's tough to watch if you believe in the incandescence of greatness. It will be hard for his most ardent fans to realize he is now part of the Mays-for-Williams list. That's not the legacy people paid for.

Ray Ratto is a columnist with the San Francisco Chronicle and a regular contributor to ESPN.com