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.

After courageously battling medical troubles more severe than the public knew, the incomparable Walter Payton lost his fight for life at age 45

I visited Walter Payton at his house in suburban Chicago a couple of weeks ago and watched as the 45-year-old man who was one of the greatest running backs in history slowly shuffled his way into the living room. He sat beneath a vibrant portrait of himself with a group of children. There was little resemblance between the chiseled 5’10”, 202-pound Chicago Bears All-Pro in the picture and the Walter Payton I was looking at. He had lost about 65 pounds and weighed less, he told me, than he had in sixth grade. The one thing he hadn’t lost, though, was his spirit.