I don't know if Steve Smith will be a Carolina Panther next season. I do know that he went to the house of Panthers owner Jerry Richardson late last season and asked to be traded. Multiple sources confirm it.

Smith is still capable of being an elite receiver. But he was not elite, as a receiver or as a teammate, last season. At 32, he will not be elite much longer.

A Panther since he was drafted in 2001, Smith was entitled to ask for a trade. A source - singular this time - says his teams of choice are San Diego and Baltimore.

Although Smith, and not Julius Peppers, is the best player in Carolina history, the Panthers aren't obligated to trade him. It's not as if there's a lifetime achievement award he can parlay into a Get Out of Charlotte Free card.

Depends what the Panthers can get for him. A third-round pick feels insufficient.

I'd like to see Smith stay. Every Panther and former Panther I talked to before the draft wanted Carolina to invest the first pick on Cam Newton.

Smith is smart, works hard, understands the game, and would constitute a superb Welcome Committee for Cam. But Smith wants to win, and win now.

I assume the Panthers will shop him. If I'm San Diego, or New England, I jump.

There's also this: Charlotte is more than a place that Smith plays. As much as any athlete in our town, he has dug in. This is evident Friday afternoon at the South End Fieldhouse, where 300 members of the Boys & Girls Club of Charlotte join him on the artificial turf.

Smith represents a sports drink and its Triple Play program. He talks about staying active, staying hydrated and eating healthy.

I've seen Smith with kids several times, and the result is always the same. He shrinks. He becomes their size. And by shrinking, his stature increases. There's no pretense, no tinted windows or opaque sunglasses, no invoking celebrity or age. Kids know when you're faking. Smith doesn't fake.

"That's just my makeup, that's the way God made me," Smith says. "It's actually pretty fun and I enjoy it. You always learn something. They always say things that make you laugh, make you smile."

Smith shows up early, signs T-shirts, poses for pictures, slaps hands. Only when he is asked to dance the Dougie does he become 32.

"I can't do the Dougie," Smith says. "Dougie for Dummies."

He says he'll live to dance another day. His son, Peyton, has promised to teach him. Expect to see it in an end zone this fall, perhaps near you.

Smith takes questions. The first is from a girl who has a future in journalism. If you could play for any football team, who would it be?

"Next question," Smith says.

Then he repeats her question. He doesn't immediately answer.

Kids fill the silence by chanting "Panthers! Panthers! Panthers!"

"The Carolina Panthers," Smith says.

Later, when Smith meets the media, I ask about the girl's question.

"Innocent kid question," he says.

I propose an innocent adult question. I ask the same thing.

"That's not what we're here for," Smith says.

When the lockout ends next week, many questions will be answered.

But not all of them.