In 1973 or so, maybe even earlier, I was having foot trouble and someone suggested I go see this Dr. Sheehan. He lived in Red Bank, New Jersey, so I looked on a map of the state and spotted a place along the Delaware River called Red Bank. It was a park near Woodbury, Browning Ross's hometown.

I drove over from my Philadelphia-area home. When I got there and looked in the phone book for a Dr. Sheehan, the name wasn't there.

I resorted to the classic "ask the guy at the gas station," and he told me, "Man, you're way off. Red Bank is up in North Jersey." Indeed I was 80 to 90 miles off, but up the road I went nonetheless -- to the real Red Bank and not some funky little park.

Hours later I arrived at a hospital in Red Bank and sought out Dr. Sheehan. He asked me a series of questions as to how I got there and ascertained that I was naive and innocent. He took me into a room, examined my feet and created a felt pad for my Morton's toe -- a term I'd never heard before but have always heard since.

Doc Sheehan was most kind to me to take the time and effort after he heard of my circuitous journey. He didn't even charge me.

I started hearing more and more about Doc Sheehan, and then as I rose in prominence he started hearing about me, too. I saw him at races, and reminded him of how he helped me long ago. We were friends ever since.