Few NHL players are as affable and widely beloved as the Rangers’ Kevin Stevens, but he’s lucky to be alive after a hellish night smoking crack with a hooker
The sharp knock on the door and the brusque shout of “Collinsville police” shattered the predawn quiet, the ominous soundtrack to a life that had fallen off a cliff. There is no telling where the sickly thud will occur when any mortal hits bottom, especially one as talented and handsome and gregarious and beloved as Kevin Stevens, a man without an enemy in the world if you overlook the demon of addiction. Room 239 of a Travelodge motel—$47.68 a night, double-double, smoking—in the St. Louis bedroom community of Collinsville, Ill., is as good, or bad, a place as any.