The Fall of Troy
Inside the downward spiral of USC football.
How ‘The Fridge’ Lost His Way
His day consists of watching television and eating three or four meals prepared by his heart-broken wife, Valerie. She nags him to exercise, but says she gets “cussed out” for it. She bugs him to take his medication but says she gets ignored over it. Her new trick, just to get him on his feet, is to tell him he has to come to the kitchen to eat his lunch. That’s her best way to get “The Refrigerator” to walk near the refrigerator. Of course, then when she least expects it, her husband will hobble out the door and into his car. She knows exactly where he’s headed: to the liquor store. Because every day ends with William Perry needing a drink.
Jason Taylor Dedicates The Rest of His Season to His Agent, Gary Wichard
Every NFL player has a first phone call. He’s on the team bus, the game is over, his body’s a wreck and he needs to tell someone about it. Some call their wives or their girlfriends or their buddy or the pizza man. Jason Taylor always calls his agent. After the New York Jets upset the New England Patriots, Taylor—a Jets —called him again. Taylor was on the team bus, wrung out. On one hand, he was now one game from the Super Bowl, a dream come true. On the other hand, his agent, Gary Wichard, hadn’t been sounding well or looking good. He dialed his agent’s number. It played a song by Journey, “Don’t Stop Believin’,” then went to voice mail. Something had to be wrong.
A Home for Two
San Diego Chargers running back Ryan Mathews’ mother Tricia gave birth to him when she was 16. The child’s father abandoned them. With no place to go, mother and newborn son lived for fours months in a 1969 Oldsmobile. Tracing his path from homeless to the NFL.
Fifth and Goal
Twenty years ago, a perfect storm of events led to arguably the biggest blunder in college football history
The Tortured Life of Eric Show
Pitcher who gave up Pete Rose’s record hit lived, and died, with heavy burden
Dr. Gasol? Pau’s love outside basketball
He focused on his studies, but as the years passed, he grew to 6-feet-nothing and then 6-foot-something. The sport of basketball had always been in the equation, but now that he was pushing 7 feet, now that he towered over most everyone in Barcelona, he would have a decision to make soon. He tried balancing both basketball and medicine at first — and, the truth is, he wasn’t the better for it. By day, he was an 18-year-old, first-year med student at the University of Barcelona; by night, he was a pivot man on the FC Barcelona club team.
