Namath and Mantle

Home was a New York penthouse featuring an oval bed, a mirrored ceiling and a fluffy white llama rug on the living room floor. "Like the white shoes and the green Lincoln," Mark Kriegel, Joe Namath's biographer writes, "the rug is recalled with great affection by men of a certain age."

Ditto the mink coat, the groupies and all those bleary, dawn-breaking nights on the town. After all, Mr. Namath is someone who once during a tournament disappeared with Mickey Mantle, two blondes, a golf cart and a supply of beverages. "Namath almost spit up his beer," Mr. Kriegel reports, when the press caught up and asked, "Joe, are you having fun?"