Lost & Found

TOM DEMPSEY

The kicker with the most famous foot in sports history walks with a limp and has a specially made right shoe that he describes as something "Frankenstein would wear." The foot that booted an NFL-record 63-yard field goal has kicked off countless conversations. "In my profession it helps me that people still recognize me" says Tom Dempsey, 62, the New Orleans-based national sales director for a consumer relations firm that advises auto dealerships. "It gives me instant credibility."

On Nov. 8, 1970, with the Saints trailing the Detroit Lions 17-16 in Tulane Stadium and two seconds to play, Dempsey, who was born without a right hand and without toes on his right foot, nailed the game-winner with his customized shoe, smashing the record by seven yards. The Denver Broncos' Jason Elam tied the mark in 1998, and Dempsey knows that it will fall someday. "That's fine with me," he says. "I've gotten more out of that kick than I ever could have asked for."

CARL BANKS

Carl Banks pounded the pavement to get into the fashion business—and he has the shoes to prove it. In 1987 and '88, while Banks was midway through a 12-year career as a linebacker with the Giants, Redskins and Browns that would include two Super Bowl rings and a trip to the Pro Bowl, he walked up and down New York's Seventh (Fashion) Avenue to launch his second career. Today Banks, 40, is the director of sports licensing for G-III Apparel Group, overseeing a product line that will net about $100 million in revenues this year. The company has licenses with the four major pro leagues and more than 50 colleges for everything from T-shirts to women's jersey dresses, the latest fashion craze. Banks, a communications major at Michigan State, first considered entering the fashion business when he despaired at finding clothes to fit his 6'4", 235-pound frame.

Those worn-out shoes, a brown pair of size 15 cap-toe lace-up Ballys, now sit on a shelf in his New Jersey home, where he lives with his wife and their four children. "Fashion is tougher than football because there are no referees," says Banks, who cuts deals with big retailers like Macy's. "There are no set rules. You have to overcome more adversity than running into a 300-pound lineman. Going from mind to market with a design is my Super Bowl."

RON BLOMBERG

Rudy Giuliani has asked Ron Blomberg about it. So have Jason Giambi, John Madden, Joe Namath, the guy on the phone from the credit-card company, the waitress who served him lunch in Atlanta and, oh, 5,783 other people over the last 30 years. They all wanted to hear about his initial plate appearance in Boston's Fenway Park on April 6, 1973, the day Blomberg, playing for the New York Yankees, became baseball's inaugural designated hitter. "There aren't too many firsts in the game anymore," says the 54-year-old Blomberg. "I'm proud to be associated with one of them."

Though the idea of the DH was discussed by executives as far back as 1906 (when Philadelphia Athletics owner Connie Mack made the suggestion in a Philadelphia North American article), it took 67 years for a hitter to replace the pitcher in the batting order. Trailing the National League in both attendance and scoring, the American League adopted the rule to inject excitement and attract attention. And on Opening Day 1973, in the first game of the afternoon, it did.

Ralph Houk hadn't used Blomberg at designated hitter during spring training, but three days before the opener the fourth-year first baseman slightly pulled his right hamstring. "I'd had some success hitting against Luis Tiant, Boston's starting pitcher, so Ralph put me in as the DH," says Blomberg, the Yankees' first-round pick in 1967 "I really had no idea what it was."