Not giving it their all
Records reveal many local athletes aren't putting up charity numbers
The two highest-paid athletes in New England history each expressed a million-dollar vision of goodwill.
First, Pedro Martinez rolled out a line of black bean and corn salsa in 1999, saying his goal was to raise $1 million for his charitable foundation to support ''children, health care, and education in Boston and the Dominican Republic." But the former Red Sox pitcher, who has been fabulously generous with his personal wealth in his Dominican homeland, has since maintained an average balance greater than $850,000 in his Boston-based foundation and has made only one grant to a charitable organization in Massachusetts: $5,000 last year to the Riverview School in East Sandwich.
Then Manny Ramirez announced at his introductory news conference with the Red Sox in 2001 that he would donate $1 million to area programs for Latino youth. But five years into his eight-year, $160 million relationship with the Sox, Ramirez has failed to deliver. He also has yet to fulfull the pledge he made 19 months ago to launch a charitable foundation to carry out his mission.
In addition, the head of a program for severely abused and neglected children in Florida indicated that Ramirez has embellished his charitable relationship with the organization.
The tale of the two superstars reflects the challenge many nonprofit organizations face in coaxing Boston's wealthy athletes to open their wallets for the community's sick and needy. While no other Boston athletes have let such a grand promise of charitable work go undone -- and several have established themselves as superstars of philanthropy -- the city's millionaire sports figures, including team leaders Tom Brady of the Patriots and Joe Thornton of the Bruins, collectively have returned little of their riches to community charities, according to a Globe review of tax records as well as interviews with players, team executives, and officials at nearly 25 of the city's leading nonprofit institutions.
Players for the Red Sox, Patriots, Celtics, and Bruins are poised this year to earn more than $315 million, an average of nearly $2.7 million each. More than 60 of them will earn at least $1 million, not including endorsements, appearance fees, memorabilia sales, and incentive bonuses. But if history is a guide, only a small fraction of their wealth will trickle down to the city's sick and needy.
''In general, their view of philanthropy is very immature," said Mark Cummings, senior director of the Children's Hospital Trust, the hospital's fund-raising arm. ''It's kind of like going to church and putting a quarter in the basket."
Fred Markey, chief development officer for Franciscan Children's Hospital, put it more bluntly.
''I get the feeling," he said, ''that they don't want to give any cash."
National figures
Other than the good works of current and past stars such as Curt Schilling, Cam Neely, Doug Flutie, and Tim Wakefield -- and the generosity many athletes have exhibited in promoting disaster relief efforts and helping to raise money for causes such as the Jimmy Fund -- the greatest charitable giving to local organizations by a sports figure recently has come from Texas-based cyclist Lance Armstrong. In the last two years, his foundation awarded $759,243 to the Dana-Farber Cancer Institute, $150,000 to Children's Hospital, $50,000 to Brigham and Women's, and $46,133 to Boston Medical Center.
Tiger Woods, who lives in Florida, also made a significant local impact. In 2003 alone, his foundation gave more than $400,000 to Massachusetts organizations, including $150,000 to the Walden Woods Project, $50,000 to the Boys and Girls Clubs of Boston, $25,000 to the Boston Ballet's City Dance program, and $10,000 to the All-Dorchester Sports League.
''There are some great examples out there," said Marc Pollick, president of the Wellesley-based Giving Back Fund. ''But they are still too few and far between."
In Ramirez's case, he pledged in March 2004 to form the MR24 Foundation. He continues to claim on his website (mannyramirez.com) that the foundation ''is amid the process of being established." Yet no such foundation has been formed, even though philanthropy specialists say formally creating such an organization generally takes no longer than nine months.
Asked recently about the foundation's status, Ramirez shrugged his shoulders, threw up his hands, and walked away. His agent, Greg Genske, did not return numerous messages to discuss Ramirez's charitable work.
Nor would Ramirez comment on his website's claim that ''he has been contributing to the Charlee [Homes for Children] program" in Coral Gables, Fla. His website provides a link to the Charlee program, bolstering the impression that Ramirez is an active supporter.
But Mary Cagle, a former chief state prosecutor in Miami who serves as Charlee's CEO, said Ramirez has made only one contribution, when he donated $20,000 worth of Reebok sneakers in early 2004. Ramirez has an endorsement deal with Reebok.
''We have tried to get back in touch with him through his relatives and have been unable to do that," Cagle said.
She was bewildered that Ramirez would publicly promote a connection between himself and the charity, since he never made another donation.
''I would never say anything negative about him in the hope and prayer that he would do something for us again," Cagle said. ''But you would think that since he talks about us on his website that he would continue to contribute."
In Boston, Ramirez recently donated $10,000 through the Red Sox Foundation to the Hyde Square Task Force. The group is dedicated to improving the largely Latino neighborhood in Jamaica Plain that Ramirez, Martinez, and David Ortiz often have visited to dine, buy their music, and get their hair cut. Task force officials said residents are well aware of Ramirez's pledge to invest $1 million in Latino programs.
''It would be tremendous if this was the start of it," program coordinator Jesus Gerena said.
The task force soon plans to launch a capital campaign for a 40,000-square-foot youth and family center.
''A lot of the young people here see the [player] contracts in the paper," Gerena said. ''They say we need to reach out to players like Manny and David and let them know that we love them and want them to be part of our dreams."
Gerena said the task force reached out unsuccessfully to Martinez, who earned $90 million in seven seasons with the Sox before he signed a four-year, $53 million contract last December with the New York Mets. Martinez, who is selling his home in Brookline and visited Hyde Square as recently as August, has made several modest donations from his personal fortune in the Boston area. But his foundation has been largely inactive because he plans to focus on his charitable giving after he retires, his agent, Fernando Cuza said.
Martinez built the foundation with an estimated $800,000 he received in a four-year endorsement deal with Fleet Bank. (Cuza said Martinez's salsa line generated only negligible income.)
''He put all the money from the Fleet deal in the foundation with the vision that he was going to play 10 years in the Boston area and retire there," Cuza said. ''He wanted to accumulate a $1 million endowment so that when he was out of baseball the foundation could make an impact on kids in Boston and the Dominican Republic by giving away the interest each year forever."
To date, the foundation has donated to several organizations that made pitches to Martinez, including the Providence-based New England Karate-Do Association ($8,000) and YouthBuild Providence ($5,000). Otherwise, the foundation's giving has consisted of $75,000 to Louisiana State University for scholarships for Dominican students, $10,000 to the Hope &
Martinez remains committed to contributing after he retires to programs in Boston and the Dominican, though he is expected to extend his reach to New York as well, Cuza said. Martinez also plans to use his personal funds to ensure the endowment reaches $1 million when he retires, according to Cuza.
Selection process
While Martinez mostly waits until retirement to give back in Boston, many other prominent players have made little impact in the community with their personal wealth. Individuals familiar with Brady and Thornton, for instance, said the stars have yet to decide how best to make a charitable impact in the community.
Brady, who earned $13 million over his first four years with the Patriots, signed a six-year extension in May worth $60 million. Thornton made more than $11 million in his first four seasons with the Bruins before he signed a three-year deal in August worth $20 million.
Both players have focused much of their attention on their hometowns.
''Now that [Thornton] will be staying in Boston, we have spoken about a formalized approach to charity in and around Boston," said his agent, J.P. Barry, by email. ''As you can understand, he has not been in the city for over a year due to the lockout. He has finally purchased a residence in Boston and we will be approaching this issue."
Other players cited a number of reasons why they or their fellow athletes have shared little of their fortunes with local charities. Chief among the reasons:
''You get pulled 100 ways a day from people who want something," said Red Sox pitcher David Wells. ''But you don't know if it's legitimate, so nine times out of 10 you throw it in the trash."
Other players said they were wary of writing checks to the wrong organization.
''Unfortunately, there are a lot scams out there," said Sox pitcher Mike Timlin, who contributes to the Angel Fund to combat ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease). ''A lot of guys don't give freely because of the scam artists."
Whatever their reasons, many athletes may be better served establishing their financial stability during their playing days than signing checks to charities, according to Paul Schervish, director of the Boston College Center on Wealth and Philanthropy.
''I do not have a scolding model for athletes in their accumulation phase," Schervish said. ''I think it's important not to have expectations of them at the peak of their careers because it is so difficult for them to have the time and focus needed to do philanthropy well, not to mention saving for their futures."
Some players give back privately to the community, avoiding recognition either because they believe it would be vain or would attract a crush of additional requests, among other reasons. Others focus on their hometowns. Sox shortstop Edgar Renteria, for example, is planning to follow Martinez's model by building a school and a health clinic in his native Colombia.
Hundreds of other athletes control their philanthropy by forming charitable foundations, which also can provide tax breaks and public relations benefits. More than 30 current and former athletes in Boston have chosen that option, and the best foundations have made a lasting impact. They include the Cam Neely Foundation, which has raised nearly $14 million to improve the lives of families affected by cancer, and the Ron Burton Training Village in Hubbardston, which has served more than 2,200 underprivileged youths in the last 20 years.
Some foundations have made a negligible impact, at best. They include the Ricky Davis Foundation, which has been largely inactive since its formation in 1999, according to tax records obtained through Philanthropy Research Inc., a clearinghouse for IRS filings by nonprofit organizations.
Not all the foundations produce immediate results, sometimes because they have long-term strategies. Celtics star Paul Pierce, for example, raised more than $250,000 in the first 18 months after he created his Truth Fund in 2002. During that period, the foundation spent more than $100,000 on administration and fund-raising but gave nothing to charity, according to its IRS returns for 2002 and 2003.
''Paul started the Truth Fund with the long-term goal of creating an after-school/mentoring center in the community of Inglewood, [Calif.], where he grew up," Jaymee Messler, a member of Pierce's management firm, said in an email. ''It is not something that will happen overnight, but this is something Paul and his foundation are personally committed to."
Messler did not make available Pierce's IRS return for 2004 but listed contributions totaling $244,000 that Pierce or his foundation have made in the Boston area since 1998. The gifts included $100,000 to Tufts-New England Medical Center as part of a five-year, $250,000 pledge to support the Paul Pierce Center for Minimally Invasive Surgery.
The hospital's minimally invasive medical procedures helped Pierce return to the Celtics less than three weeks after he suffered a collapsed lung and a wound near his heart when he was stabbed eight times at a Boston nightclub in 2000.
''He was very grateful," said Joan Fallon, the hospital's director of external affairs. ''And he has been great to us."
Below the standard
Industry watchdogs recommend that foundations generally devote at least 65 percent of their spending to charity and no more than 35 percent to administration and fund-raising. Yet many foundations do not meet that standard. In its first seven years of existence through 2003, for example, the Gary Payton Foundation gave about $1.3 million to charity, only 52.3 percent of its total spending of more than $2.5 million. And the foundation's percentage of charitable spending plunged to 28.1 percent from 2001 to 2003, the most recent three-year period for which its tax returns were available.
Though Payton's foundation conducted no fund-raising last year when he played for the Celtics, it continued to pay an executive director, former Seattle Sonics employee Steve Banks (his salary was not available, but tax records show the position paid $40,000 each of the previous two years). In any case, Banks earned more last year than the foundation spent on charity, an estimated $6,500 for a Christmas outing in which Payton treated 60 children from Sandra's Lodge, a Waltham-based emergency intake family shelter for the homeless, to $100 shopping sprees at Toys ''R" Us in Boston.
''It's not an issue," Banks said of the foundation's spending ratio. ''A lot of things have changed now with Gary being close to retirement, but we're still alive and thriving."
Payton also has yet to deliver on his commitment to donate $3 million to his alma mater, Oregon State University. He made the pledge to great fanfare in January 2002.
''We haven't seen the money," said Steve Fenk, a school spokesman. ''I don't know where it stands right now. All I know is, we don't have it."
Fenk referred questions to Payton's agent, Aaron Goodwin, who did not return telephone messages.
Just as Payton's foundation suffered after he ended his 13-year career with the Sonics, Nomar Garciaparra's charity, the Nomar 5 Fund, has slumped since he was traded from the Sox last year to the Chicago Cubs. Garciaparra's foundation, which has distributed nearly $900,000 to charity since 1999, has shut down its Boston office and website.
Garciaparra has no immediate plans to revive his chief fund-raiser, the Nomar Bowl, either in Boston or Chicago, according to his uncle, Victor Campos, the foundation's executive vice president.
''We're in transition, deciding what the best place is to call home," Campos said.
A number of other charitable funds created by sports figures with local ties have dissolved or fallen inactive, including the David Wells Foundation, the Bill and Debby Belichick Charity Foundation, and the Reggie Lewis Foundation.
Lewis's fund survived for nearly a decade after his death in 1993 before it succumbed to meager corporate support. The Belichicks let their foundation, created in 1993 to support the homeless and needy in Cleveland and Massachusetts, lapse after it made no charitable donations in 1997 and 1998. And Wells lost interest in running his foundation in 2002, two years after he started it.
Wells, relying on a celebrity softball game as the foundation's primary revenue source, raised $338,355 in 2001 and 2002. He donated $90,000 to charity.
''I closed [the foundation] down because I couldn't put the time and effort into it," Wells said.
Industry watchdogs have long cautioned celebrities against launching charitable foundations unless they have the expertise to manage the financial and legal challenges.
''Unfortunately, there are situations where individuals do not look before they leap," said Bennett Weiner, chief operating officer of the Better Business Bureau Wise Giving Alliance. Personal investment
Wary of the obligations, many athletes have opted against operating foundations. Wakefield, for example, has raised more than $2.5 million for the Spacecoast Early Intervention Center in his hometown of Melbourne, Fla., by designating the school as the beneficiary of his annual charity golf tournament.
''I don't want the headache of running a foundation," Wakefield said. ''I'm not in it for the tax breaks or the marketing benefits."
Joe Andruzzi, the former Patriots guard, also made a big difference without creating a foundation, raising $250,000 for Children's Hospital in memory of C.J. Buckley, a 17-year-old cancer patient he befriended several months before the young man's death in 2002. Andruzzi, who signed last year with the Cleveland Browns, has vowed to continue raising money for an endowment in Buckley's name.
''They're one in a million," Cummings said. ''Guys who understand the nature of their celebrity and their success and the importance of giving back."
Andruzzi made a sizable donation to the fund, a gesture that philanthropy specialists say is essential for celebrities who either operate a foundation or advocate a charitable cause.
''In general, the biggest challenge is getting athletes to put their own money in foundations that are established in their name," Pollick said. ''It's very easy to create a foundation, but if they don't put their own money in, it's lacking integrity."
Former Celtics forward Vin Baker led all athletes in the area who have formed charitable foundations in recent years by donating nearly $1.6 million of his money from 2000 to 2003 to his Stand Tall fund. The foundation benefits Baker's alma mater, the University of Hartford, and other Connecticut programs.
''It's great to use your name to raise funds," said Jay Nkonoki, Stand Tall's executive director, ''but if you're telling people you want to give toys to kids for Christmas and you don't want to spend your own money, you're probably better off not doing it at all because it's such a contradiction."
Patriots tackle Matt Light also has opened his checkbook, pouring $360,000 into his Light Foundation, which supports youth programs in Boston and his hometown of Greenville, Ohio.
''Some athletes I've worked with, I've packed up everything and shipped it back to them and said, 'I can't work with you,' " said John Keuffer, the Light Foundation's executive director. ''They just want to put their name on something but don't want to invest in it. Matt understands that if you don't believe in a cause enough to spend your own money, you probably shouldn't be involved."
Schilling has sent a similar message, writing checks of $500,000 each to the ALS Association, the Jimmy Fund, and the United Way.
''You can't go out and push people to do something you're not doing yourself," Schilling said. ''I'm getting paid a ridiculous amount of money to do what I do for a living, and there's no reason why I wouldn't [give]."
A number of local athletes recently have launched foundations, including Richard Seymour and Mike Vrabel of the Patriots, Mark Blount of the Celtics, and Gabe Kapler of the Red Sox. Kapler has pledged to contribute $50,000 a year to his foundation to curb domestic violence, though he suggested that players deserve credit for giving back to the community even if they donate only their time and face to a cause. Mike Andrews, chairman of the Jimmy Fund, agreed.
Andrews said he would love for the Sox to donate their playoff shares to the Jimmy Fund, as his 1967 Sox team did. He also said wealthy athletes should contribute financially to needy causes because ''it's the right thing to do."
''But having them come to the clinic and visit the kids is worth more than money can buy," Andrews said. ''That's priceless."
Many players make such contributions, including Sox catcher Jason Varitek, who regularly visits Children's Hospital and hosts patients at Fenway Park. Patriots defensive end Ty Warren has made a similar impact at the Blue Hill Boys and Girls Club in Dorchester.
Yet officials for many Boston organizations that serve children and the needy said money often matters more than face time.
''As much as we appreciate what we're given, the children who are at risk in the city of Boston would appreciate more than the players' physical presence," said Lisa Rowan-Gillis of the Home for Little Wanderers. ''We can take care of the kids better if we have the money." 