Whatever happened to...?

Do you remember Stephen Morrow's big day? He will hardly forget it - he scored in Arsenal's win in the 1993 League Cup final, then Tony Adams sent him tumbling to the Wembley turf with a broken arm in an exuberant post-match celebration witnessed live by millions around the world. Thereafter it was all about yesterday for Morrow.

After his fall Morrow missed Arsenal's FA Cup final, and soldiered on fitfully with the club until 1997 while appearing in a handful of games on loan for Reading, Watford and Barnet. Then he moved to QPR, playing for Peterborough on loan last season, before a trial with Luton Town in the summer came to nothing. He has recently trained with the Dallas Burn in America's soccer league, but was not offered a contract.

Morrow's story of fleeting fame is one among thousands. On the pages that follow there are many others. They chronicle all the highs and lows of sport, as well as those examples of ordinary obscurity. What unites these heroes is the curse and blessing of celebrity that comes with their talent. None of them, probably, imagined what the after-life of sport would be like as they embarked on their great adventure. Back then, it was about money, often, the thrill of the cheering crowd, certainly, and the exhilaration of achievement.

But the higher the mountain, the greater the descent. Charlie Magri, who was briefly world flyweight champion, says his sport was like a drug and retirement like doing cold turkey. He runs a pub in London now. And John McEnroe, the red-headbanded king of Wimbledon, cannot even now give it up, drawn back to the court again and again.

Kirk Stevens flitted across our TV screens briefly, succumbed to drugs, and can now be found shooting pool again on the Toronto tables where he started. J.P.R. Williams, the long-haired talisman of Welsh rugby in a golden age, always had his medical career to sustain him - while Chris Old, the England and Yorkshire fast bowler, finds contentment today running a chip shop in Cornwall.

It is curiosity that makes us ask, 'Where are they now?' But it is also, to some extent surely, a residual caring for people who gave us such joy and entertainment. Nobody wants to discover a hero in the gutter, although it is inevitably the destination of a few. We would prefer to leave them floating high above us, of course, and, if you close your eyes, that is where they will always be.

Have we missed anyone? Does a sports star of yesteryear live next door to you? Or do you know one, and their story? Or are you, perhaps, one yourself? Write and tell us about them, preferably with a recent photograph, sending it to Whatever Happened To, OSM, 119 Farringdon Road, London EC1R 3ER, or email us at osm@observer.co.uk.