Home from Their Travels
Here are the current occupations and whereabouts of some notable
Harlem Globetrotters alumni (including each player's years with
Hubert (Geese) Ausbie 1961-85
Globetrotters coach and manager of basketball operations
J.C. Gipson 1951-80
Retired (former Fridgedaire parts distributor)
San Bernardino, Calif.
July 1, 2001
Robert (Showboat) Hall 1949-74
Retired (former corrections officer)
Charles (Tex) Harrison 1954-72
Globetrotters coach and manager of basketball operations
Connie Hawkins 1963-67
Phoenix Suns community relations speakers bureau
Marques Haynes 1946-53, '72-79
Owner of a water filtration company
Mannie Jackson 1960-62
Globetrotters owner and chairman
Paradise Valley, Ariz.
Bob Karstens 1942-43
Retired (former home builder)
Meadowlark Lemon 1955-77
Dave Nash 1969-70
Equal Employment Opportunity officer at National Library of
David Naves 1971-72
Senior systems engineer, Swales Aerospace
Fred (Curly) Neal 1962-85
Retired (former Orlando Magic director of special projects)
Bernie Price 1936-52
Retired (former railroad dispatcher)
Frank Stephens 1966-74
Director of code and licensing enforcement for the state of
Lynette Woodard 1985-87
Kansas women's assistant coach
LATE GREATS: Wilt Chamberlain (1958-59); "Wee" Willie Gardner
(1954-57); William (Pop) Gates (1951-54, '55-60); Carl Helem
(1948-55); Junius Kellogg (1953-54); Goose Tatum (1942-55)
With the death last January of 1978 Triple Crown winner Affirmed,
'77 champion Seattle Slew is the lone surviving member of
American racing's most royal family. Since Sir Barton first swept
the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness and the Belmont, in 1919, there
has always been a living Triple Crown winner, and from the looks
of him, Slew, 27, isn't going anywhere soon. "He's in excellent
shape for a horse his age," says Dan Rosenberg, the president of
Three Chimneys Farm, where Slew's stud fee is around $300,000.
The big bay's offspring have earned more than $70 million on the
track, and they have been hugely successful in the breeding shed.
After undergoing surgery to fuse vertebrae in his neck in April
2000, Slew took off from his stallion duties for the rest of the
year, but this season he covered a full book of 46 mares. "He
establishes dynasties," Rosenberg says. "He is very conscious of
who he is."
On a pleasant Ohio night last August, in the bottom of the eighth
inning, Super Joe Charboneau dug in once more as a professional
hitter. O.K., so the setting was the independent Frontier
League--it was pro ball nonetheless. Besides, pitcher Jamie
Blaesing of the London (Ont.) Werewolves wasn't doing the old man
any favors during his one-time promotional at bat for the Canton
(Ohio) Crocodiles. "The guy was throwing curveballs!" Charboneau
says. "I couldn't believe it." No matter. Super Joe reached way
back--about two decades--and smacked the second pitch on a line to
left center. Single.
For a moment it doesn't seem so long ago that Charboneau, now 46,
burst on the scene with the Cleveland Indians in 1980. The 6'2",
200-pounder could hit, earning American League Rookie of the Year
honors by batting .289 with 23 homers and 87 RBIs. But that was
almost beside the point: Here was a man who could do more with a
beer bottle than Augie Busch: Charboneau could remove the cap
with his left eye socket or with the muscles in his forearm and
quaff the brew through his nose, making him, in some eyes, the
toast of baseball.
Alas, the fun didn't last. An awkward spring training slide in
1981 wrenched Charboneau's back, starting Super Joe's own slide.
He would play only 70 more big league games over the next two
Today he's the batting instructor and director of baseball
operations for the Crocodiles, commuting 70 miles to home games
from the Cleveland suburb of North Ridgeville, where he lives
with wife Cindi, son Tyson, 22, and daughter Dannon, 20. He can't
get over how many Clevelanders still remember him, and like them,
he prefers to recall the quality rather than the quantity of his
stint in the Show. "I'm not bitter," Charboneau says. "I got a
few years in the bigs, and that's pretty good."
These sports figures have all declared bankruptcy since 1990
(listed with year in which they filed and current hometown).
Rocky Bleier, NFL running back 1996 Pittsburgh
Billy Cannon, NFL running back 1995 Baton Rouge
Jack Clark, MLB first baseman 1992 Scottsdale, Ariz.
John D'Acquisto, MLB pitcher 1994 San Diego
Dorothy Hamill, Olympic figure skater 1996 Baltimore
Calvin Jones, NFL running back 1999 Lincoln, Neb.
Vernon Maxwell, NBA guard 1998 Alpharetta, Ga.
Ray Mercer, boxer 2000 Fayetteville, N.C.
Brent Moss, NCAA running back 2000 Racine, Wis.
J.R. Richard, MLB pitcher 1990 Houston
Reggie Roby, NFL punter 1993 Pipersville, Pa.
George Scott, MLB first baseman 1995 Greenville, Miss.
Billy Sims, NFL running back 1990 Dallas
Roscoe Tanner, tennis player 1998 Treasure Island, Fla.
Lawrence Taylor, NFL linebacker 1998 Patterson, N.J.
Bryan Trottier, NHL center 1994 Parker, Colo.
Johnny Unitas, NFL quarterback 1991 Baldwin, Md.
Danny White, NFL quarterback 1994 Gilbert, Ariz.
Roy White, MLB outfielder 1990 Ordell, N.J.
Willie Wilson, MLB outfielder 2000 Leawood, Kans.
Rick Wise, MLB pitcher 1990 Aberdeen, Md.
At the 1972 Olympics in Munich, a 17-year-old gymnast from the
Soviet Union won two individual gold medals, a team gold and the
hearts of the world. Olga Korbut, the 4'11" pigtailed pixie from
Grodno, Belarus, performed dazzling moves that made jaws drop
while her smile lit up living rooms from Leningrad to Louisville.
One Soviet foreign minister would tell Korbut that she had done
more for relations with the U.S. than anyone else had in five
After winning a fourth gold medal four years later at the
Montreal Games, Korbut retired and returned to Belarus, where she
married and had a son, Richard, now 22. In 1991 she left her
homeland, devastated by the Chernobyl disaster, came to the U.S.
and took up coaching. Her initial style--strict, distant,
demanding--reflected the approach of her Soviet coaches, but it
hardly inspired American kids who enjoyed a variety of other
interests and could quit on her at any time. Since settling at
the World Class Martial Arts/Gymnastics Academy in Atlanta 18
months ago, Korbut, 46, believes she has hit upon the right
mixture of discipline and encouragement. She now sees real
Olympic potential in a few of the 30 gymnasts she works with.
"I'm like mother, like big sister and sometimes tough coach," she
says. "They trust me; they like me."
If You Pay Them, They Will Come
Former sports greats can earn more than just meal money on the
rubber-chicken circuit. Here's a sampling of what some big names
(and not-so-big names) pull in for a public appearance. (Each
listed with current hometown.)
Muhammad Ali, boxer $100,000 Berrien Springs,
Magic Johnson, NBA guard $75,000 Beverly Hills,
Joe Montana, NFL quarterback $75,000 Calistoga, Calif.
George Foreman, boxer $70,000 Marshall, Texas
Howie Long, NFL defensive end $60,000 Charlottesville, Va.
Terry Bradshaw, NFL quarterback $50,000 Roanoke, Texas
Frank Gifford, NFL running back $50,000 Riverside, Conn.
Jimmy Johnson, football coach $50,000 Islamorada, Fla.
Chi Chi Rodriguez, golfer $45,000 Dorado, Puerto Rico
Tommy Lasorda, MLB manager $45,000 Fullerton, Calif.
Don Shula, NFL coach $35,000 Miami Beach
Ernie Banks, MLB shortstop $35,000 Marina Del Rey,
Jackie Joyner-Kersee, heptathlete $32,000 Town and Country,
Pete Rose, MLB infielder-outfielder $30,000 Boca Raton, Fla.
Fran Tarkenton, NFL quarterback $26,000 Atlanta
Mary Lou Retton, Olympic gymnast $25,000 Houston
Mike Ditka, NFL tight end $25,000 Chicago
Joe Morgan, MLB second baseman $20,000 Blackhawk, Calif.
Bonnie Blair, Olympic speed skater $20,000 Park City, Utah
Dan Jansen, Olympic speed skater $20,000 Mooresville, N.C.
Cheryl Miller, NCAA basketball forward $18,500 Los Angeles
Susan Butcher, sled dog racer $17,500 Fairbanks, Alaska
Gale Sayers, NFL running back $15,000 Mount Prospect, Ill.
Bruce Jenner, Olympic decathlete $15,000 Hidden Hills, Calif.
"Mankind" Mick Foley, pro wrestler $12,500 Long Island, N.Y.
Nadia Comaneci, Olympic gymnast $12,500 Norman, Okla.
Bart Conner, Olympic gymnast $10,000 Norman, Okla.
Bo Schembechler, football coach $12,500 Ann Arbor, Mich.
Bobby Hull, NHL forward $10,000 Chicago
Mike Eruzione, Olympic hockey forward $10,000 Winthrop, Mass.
Sharon Wood, Mount Everest climber $10,000 Canmore, Alberta
Kyle Rote Jr., soccer player $7,500 Memphis
Jim Tunney, NFL referee $6,500 Pebble Beach, Calif.
Cathy Turner, short-track speed skater $6,000 Hilton, N.Y.
Jerry Markbreit, NFL referee $5,500 Skokie, Ill.
Whitey Herzog, MLB manager $5,000 St. Louis
Ron Santo, MLB third baseman $4,000 Chicago
Ed Hearn, MLB catcher $3,500 Lenexa, Kans.
On Oct. 15, 1996, Gabriela Sabatini lost a first-round match to
20-year-old Jennifer Capriati at the European Indoors in Zurich.
Nine days later the Argentine glamour girl said goodbye to
tennis. There was no yearlong farewell tour and no
second-guessing her decision. "I'd had enough," says Sabatini,
31, who won the 1990 U.S. Open and 26 other singles titles during
a 13-year pro career that began when she was 14. "When I finish
something, I leave it behind and I don't need to do it anymore."
In fact, years before she retired Sabatini had already begun
sniffing around for an off-court career. In 1987 a German perfume
manufacturer named 4711 (now Cosmopolitan Cosmetics) approached
her about creating her own line of scents. That the company was
from the same country as her chief rival, Steffi Graf, was not
lost on Sabatini. "I was surprised and proud," she says. The
first Gabriela Sabatini perfume hit stores in 1989, and today the
line consists of nine fragrances (including one for men) sold in
more than 30 countries. Sabatini is an active participant in
developing the scent for each line. "I tell them what I'm
feeling," she says, "how I want it to be. Maybe more romantic,
maybe a little more seductive." She is also active in the design
of her line of clothing and watches.
At the same time Sabatini is exploring a more private pursuit
through her passion for singing. She sings at home, in the car
and is even known to belt out a tune or two for her friends at
parties. She's having a recording studio built in her new
apartment in her native Buenos Aires. So are we soon to see
Gabriela the pop star? "I would have to work, exercise, train for
it and be dedicated to it," says Sabatini, who has been taking
singing lessons for the past couple of years. "I don't know if I
want to get involved again with something like that."
She has also fielded numerous proposals for acting roles--mostly
cameos in Latin American soap operas--but has turned them down.
"It is something you have to feel inside, and I don't," she says.
For now, perfume is her profession--and she hopes it will sweeten
her personal life. "I'm looking for that man," jokes Sabatini.
"I'm waiting to see if my perfume can do something."
These former sports figures have all chosen to pursue various
beastly businesses in their postretirement days.
Dave Concepcion, MLB shortstop Cattle rancher Venezuela
Benny Dees, NCAA basketball coach Cattle rancher Lyons, Ga.
Danny Ford, NCAA football coach Cattle rancher Pendleton, S.C.
Sam Huff, NFL linebacker Horse breeder Middleburg, Va.
Stevon Moore, NFL safety Cattle rancher Wiggins, Miss.
Jay Novacek, NFL tight end Owns a hunting
ranch Brady, Neb.
Bum Phillips, NFL coach Cattle rancher Goliad, Texas
Heath Shuler, NFL quarterback Cattle rancher Knoxville, Tenn.
Her famous lip balm commercial first aired more than 20 years
ago, but Suzy Chaffee's alter ego endures like an Energizer snow
bunny. The ebullient blue-eyed blonde from Rutland, Vt., burst
onto the sporting scene at the Grenoble Olympics in 1968, where,
as a favorite for a medal in the downhill, she used the wrong wax
on her skis and finished 28th. Nevertheless, her specially
designed skintight silver ski suit kept her from becoming a
historical footnote. "I still got the second-most publicity,
after Peggy Fleming," says Chaffee, now 54. "Fashion saved my
Following the Games, Chaffee stayed in the limelight by becoming
a freestyle ski champion, modeling and devoting herself to
promoting awareness of Title IX and amateur athletes' rights. She
made the memorable Chap Stick commercial in 1978, and "Suzy
Chapstick" instantly became part of her identity, launching her
as a worldwide celebrity who pulled in roughly $100,000 a year in
endorsement income from companies such as Colgate and Dannon. She
skied with such notables as President Ford and the Empress of
Iran and was linked romantically with Bill Bradley, Ted Kennedy
and Grace Kelly's brother Jack (though she has never married).
The Chap Stick campaign aired until 1980. By the early 1990s
Chaffee had stopped pursuing endorsements, and by 1995 she was
nearly broke, had no health insurance and was getting many of her
clothes from the "free box" in Telluride, Colo., where she had
moved that year. During that time she taught a Lakota Indian
named Rollingbears to ski. They fell in love, and he provided the
inspiration for her latest project.
In 1996 Chaffee, along with Southern Ute Unity Leader Alden
Naranjo, started the Native Voices Foundation, a nonprofit
program that has taught more than 1,000 Native Americans to ski.
Resorts like Aspen and Vail provide ski lessons, lift tickets and
equipment to Native Americans in return for ceremonial dancing
demonstrations. Says Ross Anderson, 28, who is half
Cheyenne-Arapaho and half Mescalaro Apache and is the world's No.
2-ranked speed skier, "When I first met her I thought, Cool!
That's Suzy Chapstick. It's great to see someone like Suzy
Chaffee is also working to have Native Americans honored at the
2002 Olympics in Salt Lake City. "I want to give our first
Americans the chance to be heroes, like Cathy Freeman was in
Sydney," she says.
Chaffee says the foundation is the greatest thing she's ever
done. "As an athlete I was on planet Me, and it was an empty
feeling," she says. "I've discovered that giving back is the real
Maris Valainis, Hoosiers
He was an electrical engineering major at Indiana
University-Purdue University at Indianapolis with no dramatic
training when he beat out 400 other hoop dreamers for the role of
Jimmy Chitwood, the Hickory High guard with a jump shot as pure
as first love. Having caught the acting bug with Hoosiers in
1985, Maris Valainis headed to Hollywood and spent seven years
struggling. Frustrated, he fell back on his other talent--he's a
scratch golfer--and managed a couple of courses in California
before deciding in March to give acting one last shot. "It was
something I knew nothing about," says Valainis, 37, who is
married and living in Orange County, Calif. "But once I did it,
it got in my blood."
Searching for Bobby Fischer
Yes, he still plays chess, but as a die-hard New York Mets fan
he's a lot more interested in Bobby Valentine than Bobby Fischer.
Indeed, if you're searching for 17-year-old Max Pomeranc, whose
acting debut as chess prodigy Josh Waitzkin in the 1993 film
Searching for Bobby Fischer prompted critics to swoon and
interest in chess to boom, check out the ball fields of New York
City. An outfielder and catcher for a traveling team this summer,
Max gave up the movie business at age 10 after appearing in four
films. His primary goal now is to start as a senior for the
baseball team at his high school.
"I stopped acting to be a child," says Max, who before being cast
as Josh was ranked among the top 100 chess players nationally in
his age group. "Warner Brothers called a couple weeks ago and
asked me to come see them. I told them that this wasn't the best
year but that I'd stay in touch. Why would I give up my senior
year of high school and a chance to play ball?"
George Wilkosz, The Natural
He was 13 years old and hawking fruits and vegetables at his
parents' produce stand in Buffalo when one of the producers of
The Natural walked by and asked George Wilkosz if he wanted to
play the New York Knights' affable batboy, Bobby Savoy. As soon
as Roy Hobbs's epic homer cleared the fences, however, Wilkosz's
acting career ended. Over the past decade he has worked in retail
and maintenance jobs around Buffalo and is hoping to catch on as
a commercial artist. "Whenever I watch the movie, I feel as if
I'm watching another person," says Wilkosz, 31. "I go, Wow, I was
in that. It's just a great movie."
Assembled here is a gallery of six retired athletes who are also
accomplished artists. Does the art reflect the artist? Try to
match each with his or her work below (answers at bottom of
Tommy Heinsohn, 66
THEN Six-time NBA All-Star forward
NOW Boston Celtics TV broadcaster
"I've always been interested in art," says Heinsohn, who lives in
Needham, Mass., with wife Helen. "In grammar school I was the kid
who drew the Christmas scenes on the board."
Catherine Fox, 23
THEN Member of two gold-medal-winning relay swimming teams at
the 1996 Atlanta Olympics
NOW Massage therapist
Says Fox, who is single and lives in Menlo Park, Calif., "I find
it fascinating to use light to create different looks."
Bob Beamon, 54
THEN '68 Olympic long jump gold medalist
NOW President of the Bob Beamon Foundation, which provides
scholarships and grants in Palm Beach County (Fla.)
"I get a good feeling from drawing," says Beamon, who lives in
Aventura, Fla., with wife Milana and daughter Deanna, 17.
Mike Croel, 32
THEN Seven-year NFL linebacker
NOW Owner of Project 51, which helps art galleries maintain a
"I've always been interested in contemporary art," says Croel,
who lives in West Hollywood, Calif., with wife Cassaundra and
daughter Carson, 1.
Rick DeMont, 45
THEN Won the 400-meter freestyle at the 1972 Olympics (later
stripped of medal)
NOW Assistant swim coach for Arizona
"Peak performance in sport is an altered state," says DeMont, who
lives in Tucson and is divorced, "and I'm in a similarly altered
state when painting."
Ernie Barnes, 62
THEN Played five years in the NFL (1961-65) as an offensive guard
NOW Neo-mannerist painter
"My desire to be an artist overshadowed any desire to play
football," says Barnes, who has five children and lives in
Studio City, Calif., with wife Bernie.
ANSWERS: HEINSOHN, F; FOX, E; BEAMON, D; CROEL, A; DEMONT, B;
The night before a game against the Cleveland Browns in
September 1988, Elbert (Ickey) Woods was at home when he began
shuffling to the beat of Bobby Brown's My Prerogative. "When I
score tomorrow," he told his mom, Sylvia Taylor, "I'm going to
do this dance in the end zone." Never mind that the Cincinnati
Bengals' rookie running back had carried the ball only six times
(for 15 yards) in three career games. "I always said that once I
got to the NFL," Woods says, "I could pretty much do whatever I
For one enchanted season that was true. Woods scored twice
against Cleveland and finished his rookie year with 1,066 yards,
15 touchdowns and one dance craze. The Ickey Shuffle--arms
outstretched, hop twice to the left, hop twice to the right,
spike the ball, then twirl your right index finger in the air
while swiveling your hips and hollering "Woo! Woo! Woo!"--inspired
songs, T-shirts and TV commercials. Ickey's ride extended to
Super Bowl XXIII, which the Bengals lost to the San Francisco
49ers. Two knee injuries and a mere 459 yards later, however,
Woods was out of the NFL for good in 1992 at age 26.
For a few years he did more scuffling than shuffling--including a
stint selling meat door-to-door--but now the 35-year-old has found
contentment as a salesman for Pre-Paid Legal Services, which, for
a monthly premium, provides low-cost access to attorneys. He and
his wife, Chandra, and their six children (ages five through 18)
live in Cincinnati, where the Ickey name still looms large. Even
today Woods believes his NFL career is worth celebrating. "I had
a wonderful time," he says. "I was fortunate to make it to the
Super Bowl my rookie year. A lot of guys never accomplish that,
even in 10 years."
Fries with That?
These former athletes have opted for a postplaying career in the
Hank Aaron, MLB outfielder
Owns 22 restaurants (13 Church's Chickens and one Popeye's in
Atlanta and eight Arby's in Milwaukee)
Junior Bridgeman, NBA guard
President of Bridgeman Foods Inc. (Louisville); owns 135 Wendy's
Dave Duerson, NFL defensive back
President of Fair Oaks Farms, Inc. (Wis.); supplies sausage
patties to McDonald's restaurants
Franco Harris, NFL running back
Owns Super Bakery, based in Pittsburgh, which makes Super Donut
and Super Bun products
Albert King, NBA forward
Owns one Wendy's restaurant in Englewood, N.J.
Larry Mialik, NFL tight end
Partner in Southern Wisconsin Foods, which owns 90 Burger King
restaurants in Wisconsin and Minnesota
Eric Moore, NFL offensive lineman
Owns three McDonald's restaurants in Indianapolis
Dave Parker, MLB outfielder
Owns one Popeye's Fried Chicken franchise in Cincinnati
Al Toon, NFL wide receiver
Co-founder of GenXMex Food, which operates 12 Taco Bell
restaurants in St. Louis
Herb Washington, MLB pinch runner
Owns 20 McDonald's franchises in Cleveland area
We sent intrepid reporter Pete McEntegart to follow a hot lead.
Here is his report.
Stick to the facts. Golden Richards. Dallas Cowboys receiver
from 1973 to '78. Here he comes toward me. Bigger than I
thought. The file says he played at 180; this guy cracks two
bills with plenty of change. That hair is full-out gray, not
gold. But these NFL guys live hard and age harder.
Let's back up. It's high noon, Wednesday, June 13. I'm at a Metro
bus depot in Houston. Got a tip that Golden Richards is driving a
city bus. Now he's joined me in a depot break room. Turns out
Golden loves to talk, and not all of it makes sense. Typical
football player, I'm thinking; one too many shots to the noggin.
Still, good stuff here. Detailed stories about Landry, Staubach,
Bullet Bob Hayes, Golden's game-clinching touchdown catch in
Super Bowl XII. Tells me he loves the bus gig, loves "hearing the
people on the bus just like I did with 70,000 fans cheering."
Then, "I'm very blessed. I love being Golden Richards the bus
driver, as well as being Golden Richards the football player."
Print it. We swing by his supervisor's office. "The football
industry definitely lost a great player," she gushes, "but I know
the transit industry gained a great operator."
Now I'm waiting with Golden and the supervisor for my ride to the
airport. He keeps talking, something about how he got his
nickname. His real name is Gordon, he says, but when he said it
as a kid it came out "Golden." Never heard that one. I notice his
name tag reads GORDON RICHARDS JR. I mention that an SI item from
'73 said Golden was his given middle name. Golden hems. Golden
haws. "Yep, right, right," he says. "My real name is Gordon
Golden Richards." Huh? Warning bells ring.
I stumble out into the Houston haze. Things don't add up. The guy
says he's 51; Golden shouldn't be 51 until December. Next day, I
call the supervisor, sweet-talk her into giving me the driver's
date of birth. "Is it the same as the football player's?" she
asks. No, ma'am.
I do some digging, make a few calls. That night I reach one John
Golden Richards, 50, of Salt Lake City. He's been in Utah for 21
years. Divorced from his third wife, he mostly takes care of his
two sons, ages 4 and 7. Sure, he says, guys used to pretend they
were him back when he played, trying to make time with the
ladies. But now? This Golden is still blond, still lean. He's had
his struggles since leaving pro football--he was addicted to
painkillers through the mid-'90s, and in 1992 he pleaded guilty
to forging his dad's checks to buy pills--but he's fine now. And
he's most definitely not a bus driver in Houston.
Back at Metro, word of the d.o.b. discrepancy reaches Tom
Lambert, chief of the Metropolitan Transit Authority Police.
Turns out that Gordon Marley Richards Jr. had been convicted on
three counts of burglary in Freeport, Texas, in 1996. Worse, he's
in violation of his parole. MTA police slap on the cuffs on June
19. For 24 hours, though, the news that goes out is, EX-COWBOY
CHARGED WITH PAROLE VIOLATION. Gordon is sticking to his story.
By now I have just one more question. Why did Gordon do it? I
call to ask. Machine picks up: "This is Golden's place. Leave a
message after the beep. I'll get back with you in a Super Bowl
In his 14 seasons as an NHL center Walt Tkaczuk knew the
effectiveness of a good hook. So when he needed to lure golfers
to the nine-hole course he co-owns in St. Marys, Ont., he came
up with a doozy: For $52 a round, patrons at the River Valley
Golf and Country Club can have a llama carry their bags. Along
with their rope-tugging handlers, the four caddies--including
the popular Lorenzo Llama--have to be booked a week in advance.
The llamas get weekends off lest they slow down play, and
because they balance bags one each side of their saddles,
golfers who use them must play in pairs. "They're very tame
animals, but they can be a little nervous," says Tkaczuk, 53, a
former New York Rangers captain who retired in 1981. "They make
perfect partners because they never tease you about your shots."
COMPILED BY LARS ANDERSON, MARK BEECH, KRISTI BERNER, TRISHA
BLACKMAR, BRIAN CAZENEUVE, ALBERT CHEN, RICHARD DEITSCH, PETE
MCENTEGART AND KRISTIN GREEN MORSE