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16 OF THE COOLEST
SPORTS HEROES
OF ALL TIME
A PORTFOLIO BY
MARTIN SCHOELLER
Chad JOHNSON →
GQ . The Originals . 275
The great ones have a way of standing out,
don’t they? It’s a certain flair, on and off the field.
Think Namath on the sideline, in a fur coat and shades.
Think Michael Vick sprint-dancing sixty yards
through a sea of very large men in pads.
Think Willie Mays, on a dead run with his back to the plate,
making the catch that even your mother knows about.
Originality is a hard quality to define in an athlete,
but we know it when we see it. And over the course of
the next eighteen pages, you can see it, too.
Loud and clear.
→
OPENING PAGES
★
Chad JOHNSON
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28
Kevin GARNETT
wide receiver
30
freak of nature
Let’s review the numbers, shall we?
At 19, he was the first guy in more
than twenty years to be drafted into
the NBA out of high school. In his
eleven seasons with the Minnesota
Timberwolves, he has averaged
20.4 points, 11.2 rebounds, and five
assists a game. He’s a nine-time AllStar with an MVP trophy back home
on the mantel. But what makes Kevin
Garnett a true once-in-a-lifetimer
is his insane versatility. The dude is
nearly seven feet tall, and there’s not
a position that he can’t play as well
as anyone else in the league. Power
forward? Check. Center? Check.
Point guard? “I’m not a point guard,”
he says. “But can I play it? Damn
right.” He has also built a reputation
as maybe the most affable guy in
the NBA. “A lot of people want to get
respect,” he says, “but they don’t
want to give it. It’s kind of a lost art.
I’m nice because I’m nice.” Despite
his achievements, Garnett bears
the weight of his team’s struggle to
bring home a title. “People get on my
back about still being here and not
winning a championship. I’m being
crucified for being loyal, and that’s
ass-backward to me.” So is
he sticking with the T-Wolves
forever? “As long as the organization
brings talent in here, I’m ready to
rock.” — R A H A N A D D A F
“I played football in high school,
I played football in college,” says
Chad Johnson, the Cincinnati Bengal
who quite correctly describes
himself as the best wide receiver
in the NFL. “But now I’m not playing
football; I’m a straight entertainer.
That’s it.” He pauses. “At the same
time, I’m very productive at what
I do.” Since becoming a starter in
2002, Johnson has averaged over
1,300 yards a season, more than any
other receiver in the NFL, and his
Bengals have morphed from 2-14
bottom fish into serious postseason
contenders. And man, has he been
entertaining. So entertaining,
in fact, that the NFL decided
to ban his good-natured posttouchdown celebrations, which
have included an Irish jig, a putting
demonstration, and a marriage
proposal to a (willing) cheerleader.
How will Johnson respond? “Oh,
my goodness,” he says. “It’s gonna
be like a soap opera, where you
can’t miss one week. A whole entire
sixteen-week plot. It’s gonna be
a very funny year. It’s gonna be
hilarious.” — T R E N T M a c N A M A R A
B o a r d s h o r t s b y Ve r s a c e
N e c k l a c e b y D a v i d Yu r m a n
Custom vest, tie, and
pants by Jared M.
Custom shir t by Stevie
Sneakers by Adidas
Wa t c h b y I WC
GQ . The Originals . 277
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Michael VICK
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26
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quarterback
Comparing Michael Vick with any other player gets you nowhere. First off, he’s a quarterback, and quarterbacks are not supposed to
run the forty-yard dash in 4.3 seconds. Second, he’s a quarterback, and quarterbacks are not supposed to be the most electrifying,
most elusive, most jaw-dropping players on the field at any given time. (Over five NFL seasons, Vick’s racked up an astonishing 3,000
yards rushing to go along with 9,000 passing.) Third, he’s a quarterback, and even hugely hyped first-round NFL quarterbacks are not
supposed to be able to throw a ball seventy yards downfield off the back foot. On the run. But Vick can. Traditionalists (also known
as purists, also known as grumpy old white guys) may see Vick’s athleticism and versatility as the mark of a player who hasn’t yet
harnessed his talent, who hasn’t embraced the role of Quarterback, who takes unnecessary risks with the ball and his body. But Vick
isn’t buying. “Whatever’s gonna happen is gonna happen,” he says. “If you worry and play timid, things won’t work out.” And by playing
football exactly the way he wants, Vick can pursue the big goal: ”To get to the Super Bowl, man. It’s time for the Falcons to go where
they need to go and have fun doing it along the way.” With Vick on the field, at least we know it’ll be thrilling to watch. — R A H A N A D D A F
Headband by Nike
★
D w y a n e WA D E s i g n e d a p a i r o f h i s s i z e 1 4 C o n v e r s e .
Then Magic JOHNSON, James WORTHY, and
K a r e e m A B D U L -J A B B A R a u t o g r a p h e d a n o f f i c i a l
N B A b a l l . A n d fo r g o o d m e a s u r e , Ke v i n G A R N E T T
s i g n e d a Ti m b e r w o l v e s j e r s e y. N o w y o u c a n w i n
all this great spor ts memorabilia. Go to GQ.COM.
P LU S : P h o to o u tt a ke s f ro m t h e p o r tfo l i o .
GQ . The Originals . 279
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Joe NAMATH
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63
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icon
“I’m a Gemini,” says Joe Namath. “I’ve got a couple of sides to me.” A couple? Did he say a couple? Please. There’s the New York Jets
quarterback who passed for 4,000 yards in a single season, made four All-Pro teams, and famously guaranteed a victory in Super
Bowl III just days before the game. (He delivered.) There’s Broadway Joe, the swaggery kid from Pennsylvania who blossomed into a
full-on New York fashion icon, with his handlebar mustache and his calf-length furs. There’s the television personality who anchored
The (not good) Joe Namath Show and showed some (quite good) leg in a legendary pantyhose commercial. And there’s the ladies‘
man who posed with Ann-Freaking-Margret, under the headline BACK TO WORK , JOE NAMATH ! on the cover of Sports Illustrated in 1970.
No other athlete has owned New York City the way Namath owned it in the late ’60s and early ’70s. “I was very confident,“ he says.
“I was doing the very best, man.” But the furs, Joe. What was up with the furs? “We’re talking it was cold. I can remember the first
fur coat that came about. [Jets owner] Mr. Werblin knew the importance of publicity and show business, and there was a little bit of
something in it for me. I got a free coat.” Now happily retired in Florida, perma-tanned, clean and sober, Namath has this to say about
his life: “It was a good one, and it still is.” Sure looks that way to us. — R A H A N A D D A F
S m o k i n g j a c k e t by Pa u l S t u a r t | S h o r t s by L a c o s t e | S l i d e s by A d i d a s
GQ . The Originals . 281
W i l l i e M AY S
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72
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center fielder
“I don’t like to talk about myself when it comes to baseball,” says Willie Mays. “You’ve never seen me play. I could tell you a lot of things,
but you still wouldn’t know.” The man has a point. He retired five years before I was born. But still, I know some things. I know about his
twenty-four All-Star Game appearances and his two MVPs. I know about his 660 career home runs—a number that would be even higher
had Mays not (a) spent two prime years in the military and (b) played the majority of his home games in Candlestick Park, the place where
fly balls went to die. I also know that no player today does what Mays did. Nobody’s as complete on the field; there’s no point of reference.
The closest thing would be this: a big-league freak with Ichiro’s average, Torii Hunter’s glove, Vlad Guerrero’s arm, Albert Pujols’s power
(“I never lifted weights,” Mays says. “I never worked on it”), and José Reyes’s speed. The likelihood of such an athlete emerging is pretty
close to nil, so the memory of Mays—running down moon shots at the Polo Grounds like some perfectly calibrated ball-retrieval system,
then smashing a 450-foot bomb the next inning—has become all the more precious. “I don’t think I had many bad games,” says Mays.
“But again, you’ve never seen me play.” By which we think he means: We’ll never see anything quite that good again. — H O W I E K A H N
Pa n t s b y H a g g a r
PHOTO CREDIT FOR MINOR CREDITS AND STYLING
★
★
Mariano RIVERA
36
closer
Somewhere deep inside, he
must know how good he is. He
must know that he is one of
two, maybe three, athletes in
the world who are doing what
they do better than anyone has
ever done it before; he must
know there’s never been a
better closer. But if he does, he’s
not saying. Mariano Rivera is
absolutely, unshakably humble,
in a way that explains why he
is not only the most feared
pitcher in baseball but also its
most deeply respected. Ask him
how he does his job and he’ll
say, “I like to do things right.
Sometimes things don’t go the
way I want, but I always try to
hold my ground.” Ask about his
unfathomable 0.81 postseason
ERA, or his 400 career saves,
or the fact that he’s only the
third reliever to be voted World
Series MVP, and he’ll thank his
teammates. Ask about his mid’90s cut fastball, the single most
devastating pitch in baseball,
and he’ll thank God. And his
thanks will come with such
sincerity that you’ll wonder:
Maybe it really is his teammates,
or the Almighty, at work. But no.
Pardon the agnosticism, but it’s
his right arm. And, Boston fans,
that arm’s still several years
away from Cooperstown.
—TRENT MacNAMARA
PHOTO CREDIT FOR MINOR CREDITS AND STYLING
Sneakers and glove by Nike
GQ . The Originals . 283
★
Mark MESSIER
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45
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center
If you ask Mark Messier what distinguished him as a player over his twenty-five-year NHL career, you’ll get a true Captain’s answer:
“Winning championships.” Messier won five of them—with and without the Great One—for his hometown Edmonton Oilers between
1984 and 1990. At which point, he packed it up and headed east. And as the stubble-headed, bug-eyed, messianic leader of the
New York Rangers, Messier hoisted Lord Stanley’s Cup a sixth time, in 1994, forever erasing the notion that he was just Gretzky’s
sidekick, Scottie Pippen on skates. On the ice, he lifted a snakebit franchise onto his back and carried it across the finish line. Off
the ice, he charmed the living crap out of the five boroughs. And he made it all look easy, exuding the kind of charisma and gravitas
usually expressed not by balding Canadian athletes but by statesmen. “I was comfortable with the move to New York,” he says. “I
had come off five Cups in seven years with the Oilers. I felt I could bring some of that to the city.” Though Messier is the NHL’s second
all-time leading scorer, he’s incapable of talking about individual achievements. Press him to describe his single greatest moment
as a player and you can practically hear him wince. “There’s a feeling from the ’94 championship that still exists in the city today,”
he admits. “People still come up to me and say thank you.” In New York, that’s no small thing. — H O W I E K A H N
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Shaun WHITE
|
20
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snowboarder
In a sport ruled by tattooed, square-jawed, steely-looking bros, it’s passing odd that snowboarding’s brightest star
is an unfailingly polite, slightly goofy, freckle-faced 20-year-old. Yeah, Shaun White can spin on his board three
times in the air before nailing a clutch landing and not make it look that tricky. And yeah, there’s his heart-pounding
gold-medal performance at the 2006 Winter Olympics and the countless endorsement deals that came his way
because of it. But it’s that flaming, tomato-colored mop on his head that sets White apart; it’s the reason people who
have never heard of a halfpipe know his name. “Everyone is bent on having me cut it,” he says. “All my friends are
like, ‘Dude, just freak everyone out and go buzz.’ But I’m like, ‘Why?’ I’d probably just look really angry, you know what
I mean?” White, who moonlights as a professional skateboarder in the off-season, doesn’t have to rely on shticky
makeovers to win new fans—mostly because he already has more than he can handle. “When I was in Costa Rica
on a family vacation, there was this guy who couldn’t speak any English,” he says. “He just pointed at me and then
squatted down like he was riding a snowboard. Like: ‘You do this? ’ I was like, ‘Yeah, I do that.’ ” — C A N D I C E R A I N E Y
GQ . The Originals . 285
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The ’86 LAKERS
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Worthy (45)
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Magic (47)
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Kareem (59)
The average man will see a team like the ’86 Lakers about as often as he sees Halley’s comet. “We were unbeatable that year, and we knew it from the
beginning,” says James Worthy, no-brainer Hall of Famer and third-best player on the team. “We ran fluidly, automatically, and without hesitation. It
was the peak of Showtime.” “We had Hall of Fame guys on the bench, ” recalls Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, the second-best player on the team, who, that
season, played in his sixteenth All-Star Game and won his fifth NBA championship. “I mean, we played one game where we held a team to four points
in a quarter. We could attack from everywhere.” “Oh, Showtime was changing the game, man!” says Magic Johnson, who led this team, perhaps the
greatest of all time, by filling the box score with twenty-four points, twelve assists, and six rebounds per game. “We’d get out on that break, man, and
it was over. The fans… Oh, we were selling out everywhere. People were caught in the excitement—a fast-breaking team that was about making the
right pass, making the right play. It was beautiful to watch.” In case you’re wondering, Halley’s comet’s next pass is in 2061. — T R E N T M a c N A M A R A
From left: 1. Custom suit, shir t, and tie by
Tr oy M c S wa i n I I . 2 . C u s t o m s u i t a n d s h i r t
b y L a r r y C o o p e r f o r H a n g i n g w i t h M r.
C o o p e r | T i e b y Ve r s a c e | V i n t a g e c u f f
links by Gucci. 3. Custom suit and shir t by
Glenn Laiken for Alandales | Cuff links,
B e s t o f C l a s s b y R o b e r t Ta l b o t t
GQ . The Originals . 287
★
Manny RAMIREZ
34
hitter
Manny is best known for being Manny. What, exactly, it
means to be Manny is debatable and in constant flux—
does he care, or is he just good? will he stay, or will he
be traded? is it important that his hair looks like gummy
worms? and why the hell are his pants pulled down over
his cleats?—except for one thing: He’s a hitter. Certified
and undebated. Over the past decade, with the Indians
and the Red Sox, he has been the most consistent run
producer in baseball, averaging .320, with thirty-nine
home runs and 124 RBIs per season. How good is
that? Hammerin’ Hank Greenberg good. Mickey Mantle
good. The rest of Manny-ness, the other-than-hitter,
is beguiling and a little bit weird and can only really be
known to Manny himself, but it can be summed up this
way: He used his rookie signing bonus to buy a car with
a manual transmission, even though he couldn’t drive
stick; he has relieved himself behind the Green Monster
during a game; he has repeatedly (and inexplicably)
forgotten to leave the batter’s box after hitting a ground
ball; he likes to read adventure novels before games.
And none of that matters. This year Manny’s on track to
hit forty-five and knock in 130. — T R E N T M a c N A M A R A
T-shir t by American Apparel | Jeans by Rogan
★
Ben WALLACE | 32 | defender
“I wanted to pass like Magic, jump like Mike, shoot like Bird,
and cover the ball like Zeke,” says Ben Wallace. “But none of
that worked out. So I decided to play defense and rebound.” Of
course, about 900 other undersized, airball-prone, undrafted
centers from small colleges have made that same decision
in the past ten years, and 897 of them are selling insurance.
Big Ben, meanwhile, is starting in All-Star Games (the first
undrafted player to do so); racking up rebounds (1,000 per
year); pulling down $15 million a season from his new team, the
Chicago Bulls; and inspiring 85-year-old midwestern grannies
to, ahem, wear their hair out. What makes him the exception?
Part of it is that physique, which is known, simply and aptly,
as “the Body.” (He’s six nine, 240, and can be fairly described
as an immovable object in the lane.) And part of it must be
mental, known only to Ben. But the biggest part? Wallace grew
up playing with seven older brothers who, today, are the only
people he won’t (or maybe can’t) guard. “They’re all a little
too big,” he says. But as we all know, Ben’s brothers are not
guarding Shaq. He is. — T R E N T M a c N A M A R A
Shir t by A|X Armani Exchange | Jeans by Sean John
GQ . The Originals . 289
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John McENROE
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47
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server and volleyer
“I wasn’t the biggest or strongest guy out there. Maybe not the fittest, either,” says John McEnroe. “But I felt like I could intimidate my opponent
if I came out with intensity.” From 1978 to 1992, McEnroe’s strategy worked pretty well—to the tune of three Wimbledon singles titles, four U.S.
Open singles titles, ten Grand Slam doubles championships, and three straight years (1981–84) as the number one player in the world. If stubby
shorts, hiked-up socks, and an unruly ’fro wouldn’t back a guy down, then playing like a rabid animal certainly would. “I kept coming at them,” he
says. “Usually, that resulted in an early lead, and I figured right away that would cut out about 80 or 90 percent of the people. Maybe 5 percent
could stick with me for two hours.” All too often, McEnroe is remembered more for his loud (and foul) mouth than for his graceful playing style, the
effortlessness with which he patrolled the court, the softness of his hands. At his best, he was everywhere; he returned everything. Unleashing
relentless machine-gun volleys and unreachable, backbreaking drop shots, he owned both the net and the baseline. “It’s because I was good that
people paid attention to that other stuff,” he says. “If I was ranked one hundred, people wouldn’t have shown any interest.” — H O W I E K A H N
J e a n s b y L e v i ’s | B o o t s b y L o u i s Vu i t t o n | N e c k l a c e b y C a r t i e r | Wa t c h b y Fr a n c k M u l l e r
Kelly SL ATER
→
GQ . The Originals . 291
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Danica PATRICK
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24
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driver
“It’s the racing that keeps them coming back,” says IndyCar phenom Danica Patrick. “Because if I drove around by myself, it wouldn’t be very
interesting.” She’s probably right: The race is the thing. But here’s what she’s too polite to add: An awful lot of fans going to the track these
days would be pretty damned content just to watch her drive around by herself. In fact, she has single-handedly rejuvenated a sport that few
people ever followed in this country. But it’s not just her looks or gender that makes her an anomaly (she’s a five-foot-one-inch, 105-pound
siren who was reportedly asked to pose in Playboy ); she’s also talented. She was the 2005 Rookie of the Year, and her fourth-place finish in
the Indy 500 was the highest by a woman in the history of the race. Her drive toward perfection is what makes her one of the most unbridled—
and entertaining—competitors out there. During a now infamous race at the Michigan International Speedway this July, Patrick’s car ran out
of fuel with only two laps to go. Seething with frustration, she began pummeling her steering wheel, and then stomped down pit road, kicking
anything in her path, including a plastic barricade. “Do you know how it feels to be running at full-peak adrenaline and then have your world
crash down on you?” she asks. “That’s what makes it sports. It’s emotion, and it’s raw, and it’s uncensored.” — R A H A N A D D A F
Dress by James Perse | Helmet by Bell Helmets | Gloves and boots by Sparco
★
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PREVIOUS PAGE
Kelly SL ATER
34
surfer
Kelly Slater talks about surfing the way a
meteorologist might explain the physics of
an approaching hurricane: coldly, calmly,
effortlessly. He doesn’t use the word brah
or sport the de rigueur Spicoli shag, and
he’s certainly not some 19-year-old pukashell-wearing SoCal kid giving the finger to
anyone that looks his way. The 34-year-old
anti-dude from Cocoa Beach, Florida, wants
to be perfectly clear on how he approaches
each competition, which is why he conjures
a metaphor he knows most guys will
understand. “I play a lot of golf, and this pro
friend of mine once told me that your shot
depends on the lie you have,” says Slater. “If
you have 200 yards to the green but your ball
is way down in the rough, you’re not going to
be able to hit your 4-iron. Surfing is the same;
it’s about understanding what’s possible.”
His experience and poise—not to mention his
ability to maneuver a surfboard at lightning
speeds—is making pretty much everything
possible this year, including a run at an eighth
world title. Since turning pro at 18, Slater
has dominated the surfscape and isn’t close
to done breaking records and boundaries in
the sport. “I’m more at my peak today than I
was when I was 20,” he says. “The murmurs
I’m hearing now are ‘Wow, Kelly is really
relaxed’ and ‘Oh shit, he’s not worried’ and
‘We can’t put pressure on him.’ I’m just having
fun, because I don’t have to win a title to be
fulfilled.” — C A N D I C E R A I N E Y
Hoodie, A Litl Betr by Rogan
W h e r e t o b u y i t ? S e e t h e D i r e c t o r y, p a g e 3 3 1.
For Additional Credits, see page 338.
292 . The Originals . GQ