Eddy Curry wanted to go to the Clippers. Tyson Chandler wanted to go to the Bulls. On draft night, it seemed neither got his wish. Until of course Chandler was traded for Elton Brand. Now Tyson got to leave his SoCal home and Eddy (a Chi-town kid) didn't have to play behind Brand and the two high-schoolers could work together to rebuild a once-proud dynasty.

But on this lazy summer afternoon, rebuilding anything was the furthest thing from their minds. On a day off from the NBA summer league at Long Beach State, the kids hit the beach to shoot the cover of the next issue of ESPN The Magazine.

This is their first photo shoot together. When the photographer asks which one of the young Bulls will go first, I point to the shy Curry, who simultaneously points to Chandler. So Tyson heads over and sits on a humongous beach towel, where the makeup artist goes to work on him. Tyson's girlfriend, Kim Brown, a sophomore broadcast journalism major at Hampton University, sits down next to him and loads up a Tupac CD on the boom box. The CD starts to skip, making "Keep Ya Head Up" sound like some sort of alien house mix. "That can't be right," laughs Chandler. Rarely is the bright-eyed Chandler not smiling, laughing, or on this day, poking fun at Curry. But he sits straight-faced when undergoing the unmanly task of having makeup applied.

This is Curry's first trip to the beach since he was about eight. And that's how old he seems on this day. He tries to bury everything he can. After burying a basketball he takes off his size 16s and buries his feet up to his shins. He spins a basketball on his middle finger and raises it above his head Statue of Liberty-style. "You're gonna love playing with Jamal Crawford," I say about his future Bulls point guard.

"I know, I saw him play in the Chicago Pro-Am last week," says Curry. "He was killin' folks."

After about two minutes the ball is still spinning, until I jump up and knock it off his finger. "Gimme dat, young boy," I scold. I palm the worn ball and extend it out in front of his face. "See, you don't have to be 7 feet to palm a basketball," I tell him.

"But, look how bad you're struggling," he replies, slapping the ball away.

"Shooter's hands, man," I say.

"You wish."

The photo shoot calls for both players to put on Bulls jerseys and wade into the blue Pacific. Tyson is handed a No. 3 home Bulls jersey and Curry gets No. 2. When they stand next to each other you get 23. Hmmm. But they are so excited about seeing their game jerseys for the first time, all they can think about is taking them home when the shoot is over. They like the idea of big men having low numbers. "Three is a fast number, like Iverson," says Chandler.

"Too bad you're not fast," Curry replies.

"Two, on the other hand, is just wide," laughs Chandler.

They take off their shoes and socks and approach the tide. When it rolls in they scurry back like kids afraid to get wet. They do this three or four times until Curry finally drags Chandler in. Tyson hikes up his shorts and walks on his tippy-toes in a vain attempt to stay dry when a three-foot wave crashes into them. So much for that. They loosen up a bit after several waves nearly knock the wiry Chandler under. After 20 minutes in the water, they are drenched up to their Bulls logos and nearly lose a basketball to the sea.

When they come out of the ocean, Kim points out that Tyson has smeared his makeup on his sleeves. "Is this your first time wearing makeup?" I ask Chandler. "No, he wears lipstick every day," says Eddy. While the photographers discuss the next shoot, the young Bulls and I raid the spread of food laid out by one of the assistants. I hit the Pringles while Tyson munches on fruit and licorice and Eddy woofs down chips and soda.

The players are given red road jerseys for the next shoot. "Man, you got a size 54 jersey," I tell Curry, having never before seen one that big.

"That's nothing, I got a 64 Shaq," says Chandler in mock jealousy (his jersey is only a 52).

These shorts feel a little small, though," says a worried Curry.

"That's funny, mine feel perfect," replies Tyson as he skips away kicking up sand.

"Punk!" Curry shouts back, tugging on his shorts to make them look longer.

As the sun sets, the photographer captures the two against a brilliant sky. They are excited to be here and seem to be having fun, something pro athletes rarely do on photo shoots. Still, when it's done they're even happier. And the roughhousing begins. I lower my shoulder into Tyson's midsection, grab his legs and hoist all 227 pounds of him on my shoulders WWF-style. I feel Curry creeping up on us, so I dispose of one seven-footer and brace for another. Bad position to be in. But I talk my way out of it by trying to convince the 295-pounder to do a standing backflip. Curry has won many a bet with his backflip trick. (Yes, he really can do it.) "I plan on taking a couple G's from my teammates this year," he says. "Man I'm gonna be paid."

For Tyson Chandler and Eddy Curry, life is a day at the beach.

Chris Palmer covers The NBA Life for ESPN The Magazine. E-mail him at christopher.palmer@espnmag.com.