Joe Montana's crutches leaned against the wall of the store manager's office at Mervyn's department store in San Mateo, Calif. Two weeks earlier, Montana had the last remnants of cartilage scraped from his knee. Doctors created new cartilage with scar tissue, which should hold out four or five years. Then Montana will need more surgery.

"By then, maybe they'll have done enough experimental work on other people to know how to fix it," Montana said, laughing.The knee is a reminder of his 16 years as the NFL's greatest quarterback. But everything about Joe Montana is a reminder of his NFL years. His eyes, his hands, his gait. For many, Montana will always be something of a god, touched forever - like DiMaggio and Ali - by the magic he once created on the field.

While Montana sat in the manager's office, wearing blue jeans and a denim jacket, he took the phone from his publicist for another radio interview. "You'll be talking to Rich and Lee," the publicist whispered, and Montana scribbled the names on the bottom of his day's schedule. Meanwhile, outside the store, hundreds of people were lining up, snaking well beyond the sign that read, "Line Ends Here for Joe Montana's Book Signing." One poor soul spent the night on Mervyn's doorstep so he'd get the first autographed book.

The book is "Montana" (Turner Publishing, Inc.), a gorgeous production of photographs and stories from the quarterback's childhood to Notre Dame, the 49ers, the Kansas City Chiefs and finally retirement this year. (It's No.10 on the New York Times paperback best seller list.) Never comfortable in the spotlight, Montana suddenly finds himself a much more public person in retirement than he ever was as a player. He's working as a studio analyst for NBC during the football season. (He says he likes being part of the media. "Now I can say whatever I want, no matter if I'm right or wrong," he said, laughing.) He's doing lots of commercials and he's doing radio, TV and newspaper interviews to promote the book.

For the first time in his life, he appeared on a late-night talk show last month, throwing footballs into a moving cab on David Letterman. "He scared me because he told me the other two (quarterbacks) who had been on the show hadn't hit the cab," Montana said. "I hadn't touched a football since last season."

Of course, he hit two of three, nearly decapitating the driver with one. "I should have hit the first one, too," Montana said, sounding like his old self, "but it hit the divider between the windows."

In his first autumn without football since he was 8 years old, Montana seems at peace. The greatest surprise for him, he says, is how little he misses the game. On weekends when he's not working for NBC, he doesn't watch much football, mostly because he's outside playing with his kids. He'll tune in to bits and pieces of the 49ers or the Chiefs if they're on and pop into the family room to get updates on scores, but - never much of a spectator - he doesn't sit through entire games.

"Once the season got going, I thought I won't want to watch any football, that I would miss it too much if I did," he said. "But it wasn't that way. I wanted to watch it."

Except for the NBC job, he seems to have removed himself quite deliberately from the game. You won't see him visiting the 49ers' locker room or standing on the sidelines or sitting in owner Eddie DeBartolo's box, as many former players have. "If I spent too much time talking to people in the game," Montana said, "maybe I'd start thinking, `Why'd I go away?' I don't know if I'm ready for that yet. Maybe it's a protection mechanism. I don't know."

So he doesn't have much to say about the 49ers and their six-game winning streak except to wish them continued success. He shrugged off the possibility of a Joe Montana Day at Candlestick Park. "You know I'm not big on those things. I try to avoid them as much as I can."

Now that he's retired, he is fulfilling dreams he put off for football. He's flying at least twice a week. Playing golf. Toying with the idea of creating his own line of Italian food. And he and his wife, Jennifer, have finally found their dream house in the wine country. They closed escrow on Wednesday on a 500-acre ranch north of Calistoga, Calif. with two guest houses, pool, tennis court and barns, which Montana would like to fill with five or six horses. They'll use the place on weekends and summers, when the children aren't in school.

The book, written with journalist and TV commentator Dick Schaap, hits all the highlights of Montana's career. But the photos carry the book, from his Monongahela Peanut League All-Star baseball team to roller hockey with his four kids on the tennis court of their Atherton home. I asked which page of his book he would choose to keep with him if he were allowed only one.

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"I'd have to take two: the double-page photo of the kids," he said. "That's our favorite, Jen and I."

He had a tougher time choosing which football page he'd take. "It would have to be one with all the guys," he said. "I don't like the ones by myself as much as the ones with my teammates."

By now about 400 people were waiting for Montana outside Mervyn's. It was cold and drizzly, but some of them had waited for hours. All they wanted were a few seconds in the presence of Montana and a few strokes of ink produced by Montana's hand.

Montana has left football, but football hasn't left him. The game and its fans don't let go easily.

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