(FORTUNE Magazine) – If you've already anointed Tiger Woods as the celebrity pitchman for the new millennium--the only true heir to the king of all endorsers, Michael Jordan--then slap yourself with a spatula. Old athletes just aren't fading away anymore, which explains why superstar retirees like George Foreman, John Elway, Wayne Gretzky, and of course Jordan are still earning millions hawking long-distance telephone service (Jordan), beer (Elway), pain relievers (Gretzky), tires (Gretzky), clothes (Jordan), golf retailers (Elway), and gizmos like George Foreman's Lean Mean Fat Reducing Grilling Machine.

The trend was validated recently when Foreman, 51, signed a stunning endorsement deal with Salton, a $506-million-a-year cookware manufacturer, making the two-time former heavyweight champion one of the richest spokescelebs ever. A hit on the infomercial circuit, Foreman helped sell more than eight million of Salton's grills last year, up from 200,000 in 1996.

Foreman was earning 60% royalties on earnings, so Salton CEO Leon Dreimann figured he could do better by buying Foreman's name outright. He did--Foreman sold his name to Salton in perpetuity for marketing kitchen appliances for $137.8 million. Foreman and his partners get $22.8 million annually for five years, plus $23.8 million in stock--about 533,000 shares at the recent closing price of $43. "We saw what his name could do for us, how the public reacts to him," says Dreimann. The George Foreman Outdoor Grill hits stores this spring.

Experts can't recall any athlete copping such a sweet endorsement deal. "We're used to athletes asking for the moon, but not the companies' giving it to them," says Bob Williams, president of Burns Sports Celebrity Service, a Chicago-based marketing firm.

It's difficult not to juxtapose Foreman's windfall with Jordan's recent return to the NBA as minority owner and president of basketball operations for the Washington Wizards. Jordan's no fool. Sure, his fierce competitive drive is one reason Jordan took on the challenge of reviving the moribund Wizards--can't you see him trash-talking other owners from his luxury box?--but he also knows his return may jump-start laggard sales of Air Jordans and his high-fashion apparel line.

Why is Madison Avenue suddenly geezer-friendly in a hip-hop world? Two reasons: Call one the Rodman factor. Not long ago, advertisers were enamored of athletes who spit on the all-American image. Charles Barkley, Andre Agassi, and former NBA power forward/cross-dresser Dennis Rodman were pitching products for traditional companies like Gillette, Canon, and Converse. But as Barkley's teams stumbled, Agassi's hairline retreated, and Rodman's act grew stale, consumers became bored by sports rebels. Now, with rare exceptions, bad boys are losing out in the endorsement arena. "Controversy," says Williams, "isn't selling anymore."

Thesecond reason is simple math: Take three of the greatest athletes away from sports, and you aren't left with much. In a span of less than a year, Jordan, Gretzky, and Elway retired. Among GenX superstars only Woods has matched their consumer appeal and athletic prowess. (Face it, do you really care who wins a golf tournament when he's not on the field?) Oh, sure, dynamic guard Vince Carter of the Toronto Raptors, Yankees heartthrob Derek Jeter, and likable Denver running back Terrell Davis are popular with fans and advertisers, but not like the old guys. Says Williams: "The athletes' mentality of easing into retirement is no longer true."

Still, Foreman's inclusion in the new geriatric endorsement elite three years after his retirement is a shocker. Once a chiseled but angry fighter with little appeal, Foreman is now a cuddly figure with self-deprecating humor--and keen marketing instincts. "People are hungry for nice and honest," he says. "We were so poor when I was growing up we couldn't afford carpet. But when a vacuum salesman came to our house, he was so nice my mom bought one. Before the product comes nice. If it works, the sky's the limit."

Foreman says his experience should be a lesson to many of today's trash-talking, referee-spraying pros. He still squirms when he sees the grainy footage of himself, as an imposing and unsmiling fighter. "I have to live with that image for the rest of my life," he says. "I tell [athletes], 'Every time you go on TV it's an opportunity to sell, so put a smile on your face.' " If not, the only things they may ever sell are burgers and fries.

--Roy S. Johnson