American League batting champ and a Hall of Famer, Boggs retired in 2001 and
served as a part-time assistant coach at Tampa's Wharton High, which his son,
Brett, attended before graduating last year. (Wade and his wife, Debbie, also
have a 27-year-old daughter, Meagann, a crime scene investigator.) These days
Boggs, 48, bags big game as avidly as he once did base hits; in his Tampa house
he has two trophy rooms, containing more than 150 mounted trophies. Last
September he made his third hunting trip to Africa and returned with a rhino
and an elephant.
Barrett was a
.278 hitter in a 10-year career with the Red Sox and the San Diego Padres,
which ended with his release by the latter team in June 1991. He managed for
four seasons in the minor leagues, then left baseball to develop real estate in
Las Vegas and coach the Little League team of his youngest son, Kyle. Married
and the father of three, Barrett, 48, counts the Energizer Bunny of games among
his top baseball memories, along with Boston's 1986 postseason run (in which he
tied a World Series record with 13 hits but struck out against the New York
Mets' Jesse Orosco to end the Series). "I don't think the [33-inning]
record will ever get broken," he says. "Now they'd suspend the game at
an appropriate time, and everyone would come back fresh."
On June 23,
Boggs, Barrett and 18 of their former teammates gathered in Pawtucket to
celebrate the silver anniversary of the Longest Game. Barrett says he and Boggs
haven't changed much in the last 25 years. Then he recalls that Boggs starred
in Medical Hair Restoration ads. "Well," he says, laughing, "I've
lost most of my hair. Wade's looking pretty good."
The Funny Cide
Three years ago
six high school buddies reigned over the sport of kings. They're still horsing
ONE MORNING in
June, J.P. Constance was rummaging through a hardware store near his hometown
of Sackets Harbor, N.Y., when a voice trilled across the aisles. "How is
Funny Cide doing?" asked a woman he had never seen before. Constance, 58,
recalled the encounter with a laugh. "Thank goodness," he said. "I
thought the world had passed us by."
Three years ago
Constance and five of his high school friends from Sackets Harbor had become
celebrities as their gelding, Funny Cide, won the first two legs of the Triple
Crown. They had decided over beers during a Memorial Day picnic in 1995 to make
an initial investment of $5,000 each and take a crack at buying racehorses,
calling themselves Sackatoga Stable (for Sackets Harbor and Saratoga Springs,
the racing mecca where their leader, Jack Knowlton, had moved). Those everyman
owners--there were eventually 10--and their stubborn chestnut's quest to become
the 12th Triple Crown winner tapped into America's collective spirit in a way
that horse racing hadn't in decades.
owners arrived at Churchill Downs for the Derby in a rented school bus, calling
it their "yellow stretch limo." They sang the Sackets Harbor alma mater
on the Pimlico backstretch after the Preakness. Then they and more than 100,000
fans watched as Funny Cide narrowly lost the Belmont Stakes.
Then as now,
Sackatoga Stable was about the joy of the game. "The thrill of a
lifetime," says Knowlton of Funny Cide's run. "And we missed the Triple
Crown by five lengths."
Sweetest of all,
the owners are still raucous, fun-loving interlopers. The Sackets Harbor
originals--Constance, Knowlton, Harold Cring, brothers Mark and Pete Phillips,
and Larry Reinhardt--remain upstate New York homebodies.