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This thread is collecting the stories of former NBA players that were felled by bankruptcy, drug abuse, crime, financial ruin, and more...
Stuart
Stuart
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David Vaughn, former Orlando Magic player
NBA Washout David Vaughn Back From The Depths of Despair
ORLANDO -- David Vaughn would doze off at night thinking about the thick, fluffy towels and those cool-to-the-touch, soft white sheets that he used to pull up around his chin when he slept so soundly at the posh Ritz Carlton, his home-away-from-home when he played in the National Basketball Association.
Unfortunately, he would wake up soon afterward, realizing he was back to reality, living on the streets in Orlando, sleeping with one eye open, in places that often embarrassed him.
There was that dank, dusty storage shed that a friend rented for $39 a month and gave him the extra key so he could at least get out of the rain at night. Nobody bothered him there but the cockroaches.
There was the back of his old Chevy Impala, which was a little cramped for a 6-foot-9, 250-pound man. The bigger issue was the middle-of-the-night taps on the window by law enforcement when he parked in a bad spot, or even worse when he was awakened by the gunshots of the drug dealers outside.
There was the homeless shelter, which wasn't always available because it was first-come, first-served and it usually filled up fast with grown men wheezing or crying or snoring and people always asking questions.
Then there was the clean and comfortable local hospital, where he eventually ended up because the infection from the multiple spider bites on his toe had grown so out of control and spiked his fever that doctors wanted to amputate his grotesque-looking foot before it cost him the entire leg.
That's where he woke up one day to find his estranged wife crying beside his hospital bed, begging him to come home again, even if it meant violating the court order that prevented him from being within 500 feet of her.
Living on the street almost killed him.
Praying for forgiveness literally saved him.
"I feel lucky to still be alive,'' Vaughn said last week when we met at the downtown public library, heaven for an avid reader and a day-time haven for anyone living on the streets. It's where he felt comfortable enough to sit and talk about his life after basketball, about his downward spiral, about hitting bottom nine months ago in that hospital room, and his rebirth through the last several months."I went from the pinnacle of having it all, to the pits of having absolutely nothing, and seeing no light at the end of the tunnel.''
-- David Vaughn
"I went from the pinnacle of having it all, to the pits of having absolutely nothing, and seeing no light at the end of the tunnel,'' he said. "I was a mess, but I didn't want to end up in hell. And now I'm on my way back.''
Vaughn, 36, wasn't much different in 2008 than the thousands of homeless people living in cities across America, except he had fallen out of the penthouse, a former first-round draft pick of the Orlando Magic in 1995 who washed out of the league after four years, and with no idea where to turn next.
Vaughn came from the University of Memphis, a big, strong power forward who shined in college basketball, but struggled to carve his niche in the NBA, never living up to expectations. He played in Europe for a couple years afterward, bounced through a few teams, even returned home to try the Harlem Globetrotters for a short period.
But he lost his passion for the game, then lost everything else, including his wife, two children and his self esteem.
His original three-year guaranteed contract with the Magic didn't come with any guarantees of a successful life. The contract didn't come with a course in life management skills, and he had none when his basketball career finished. He had no degree after three years in college, and no real desire to get one.
"We're fortunate that he's still with us, after all he has been through the last few years,'' said Kyle Rote, Jr. his former agent who has kept in and out of contact with him and his wife. "A lot of guys would be dead. I've always said `it's a lot harder to get out of big-time professional sports than it is to get into it.' You get sucked into that lifestyle, and there's no easy way out.''
Despite all the low moments -- the domestic violence arrest and two jail stays, the failed drug tests, the broken up family, the broken down body, the depression that followed, and the year on the streets -- Vaughn's story does not have a sad ending.
It's a comeback story with a happy new start. It's a story about a good family man now whose life has come back together as he looks for a new job, looking forward to being there for his two kids and his wife and for himself, a rock for them to lean on instead of a dope for failing them.
There is no bitterness in his voice, only the joy that he has found in the last nine months and the hope for a bright and simple future. He speaks confidently about his plans and he smiles a lot.
"I have no regrets, except for what I put my family through,'' he said. "I'm a lot smarter now. I made it to the NBA, which was a dream of mine. I just didn't know what to do when I got there. The money doesn't last forever. It comes and goes. I made a lot of bad choices. Now I just want to get a decent job, drive a truck, be a security guard, maybe coach a little. I'd be happy with that life. My wife stuck with me through the hard times -- and I'm grateful -- and we made it through the storm.''
Vaughn's NBA career included two seasons in Orlando, then another two split between Golden State, Chicago and New Jersey. Through four seasons, he played in just 118 games, averaging only 9.8 minutes a game. He then played parts of three seasons in Europe.
The money he made in basketball – the most was $600,000 in each of his first three seasons – is long gone. He bought more cars than he could ever drive, a house too big for himself when he was single, too many clothes and too much jewelry, sending too much money to relatives back in Memphis.
When his basketball career ended in 2003, he came back to Orlando looking for work. He unloaded trucks at a grocery store. He moved packages at Federal Express. He tried his own one-man moving company. He worked for three years at a furniture store driving and unloading trucks. He was good at it, too, but he was laid off when the store stopped their delivery service.
Even when he lived on the street, he often was working. He just wasn't making enough money to support both him and his family that he couldn't legally see. They had a small apartment. He had the street. His paychecks usually went to them.
"We look back now, at all the trials and tribulations we went through, and say `wow. We made it through,''' said Brandi Vaughn, his wife and mother of his two children. "It was a battle. When he was playing basketball, we had it all, but we were foolish. We separated, but I never divorced him, even when the judge said I should. We fought the good fight, and we made it through.''
Vaughn today is collecting unemployment, getting $250 per week, still looking for another job. He and the family live together in Southwest Orlando. He likes nothing better than watching his two sons playing football in the courtyard outside their apartment.
They have little money, but they never have been happier. He thinks back to the '90s when he played in the NBA, living large and acting wild like a child with too many quarters in an arcade.
"I used to come to this library a lot when I had nowhere else to go,'' he said. "If I had any advice for the young guys coming into the league today, it's prepare for a future beyond basketball. If you're not careful, everything can disappear.'' -
Jason Caffey
Jason Caffey, Chicago Bulls
Baller Baby Daddy Says He's Brokeass Mountain
Former Chicago Bull Jason Caffey is in some seriously deep doo doo for allegedly stiffing one of his ten kids -- yes, ten -- out of child support.
A Georgia judge initially ordered Caffey to the clink in 2007 after he got $100K behind in support payments to Lorunda Brown, the mother of one of his sons. That order was subsequently put on hold when the baller cried broke and filed for bankruptcy.
Brown's lawyer now wants to know, penny by penny, where all of Caffey's jack went -- including the $35 million that he made in his last NBA contract.
BTW, Caffey had those ten kids with eight women. That's King Baby Daddy to you.
Caffey's lawyer said they'll be there at this week's hearing to deal with the case.
Read more: http://www.tmz.com/2008/06/09/baller...#ixzz0Wb5Z9wDHComment
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Antoine Walker
former NBA all-star Antoine Walker...
For Walker, financial fouls mount
Former Celtics star pursued by creditors as free-spending lifestyle drains his wealth
By Shira Springer, Globe Staff | October 25, 2009
In the early morning hours of July 16, two Douglas County sheriff’s deputies were combing through the crowds around the gaming tables at Harrah’s Lake Tahoe casino in Stateline, Nev., trying to find a certain high-roller, a sort-of celebrity, a wanted man. They carried a snapshot with them, just to be sure they arrested the right guy.
It wasn’t a face they knew well, but we do.
It was Antoine Walker.
Near the cabaret bar, the deputies spotted the former Celtics all-star forward, chatting with a group of friends. Harrah’s security officials moved in, discreetly escorting him into an office where the deputies bound the 6-foot-9-inch, 245-pound Walker’s hands behind his back with two pairs of handcuffs and placed him under arrest on an outstanding warrant.
The charge: writing 10 bad checks for casino markers totaling $1 million in Las Vegas.
When Walker’s high school coach Mike Curta learned of the arrest, he called his former player in disbelief and asked whether there was anything he could do.
“Everything’s under control,’’ Walker replied, as Curta recalls it.
It wasn’t true then, and it hadn’t been for some time. “Under control’’ has never really described Antoine Walker, on the court or off it.
And now he is truly feeling the press. A Globe review found that, during the last seven months, Walker has been pursued by multiple financial institutions for unpaid debts totaling more than $4 million. Court documents filed in Illinois and Florida reveal Walker was named a defendant in three recent debt-related civil cases, in addition to the ongoing check-kiting case. His former agent is also after him, citing a heap of unpaid fees.
Several National Basketball Association sources, among them friends and former teammates of Walker’s, said the 33-year-old player may well have squandered much of his $110 million-plus in career earnings. Without a team or contract as the new NBA season begins Tuesday, they’ve heard that Walker is casting about for cash to pay off his debts and is looking to catch on with a team, perhaps even overseas.
“I know Antoine has enjoyed himself,’’ said a former teammate. “He had a good time, as all professionals who are in that situation should. But there’s tough lessons you learn about the responsibilities that come with being a professional athlete that makes a lot of money. Sometimes this is one of the consequences to that.’’
Walker declined to comment through his agent. His lawyer did not return calls. Walker faces a court hearing this Thursday in Las Vegas on three felony counts of drawing and passing checks without sufficient funds with intent to defraud. As of Friday, a representative for the Clark County district attorney’s office in Las Vegas said, Walker had made no move to pay up or otherwise settle the case. Each of the charges carries a possible one- to four-year prison term.
“In the DA’s office’s last communication with Walker’s attorney, it was reported to us that Mr. Walker was trying to get a job,’’ said Stacey Welling, spokeswoman for Clark County. “If he gets a job, he can potentially enter into a payment plan to pay off the debt. Without a job and means to pay off the debt, criminal proceedings will go forward as planned.’’
The Thursday hearing will function largely as a status check, giving Clark County officials an update on Walker’s job search. It is a long way from his free-spending, carefree days as “Employee No. 8’’ with the Celtics.
Antoine Walker entered the NBA’s maximum-contract financial elite in 1999, the year Boston signed him to a six-year, $71 million deal. He was to be the talent and star-presence the Celtics would rebuild around, a big man with a smaller man’s ball-handling skills. And at 22, he would instantly be very rich, with a champion’s wallet even if not yet a champion’s game.
As Rick Pitino, then the Celtics president and coach, put it, Walker “will never have to worry about money again in his life.’’
Pitino’s prediction, like so many things about his tenure with the Green, proved way off the mark.
If Walker’s story raises the question - How could anyone burn through so much money so fast? - it also suggests an answer. He is one of those people who simply can’t say no.
During his heyday with the Celtics, Walker played and lived with brash confidence. On the court, there were the reckless 3-pointers, the improbable game-winning (and sometimes game-losing) shots, the trademark wiggle as he celebrated his biggest baskets. Off the court, there were the cars, the jewelry, the houses, the suits, the gambling. He liked to move in an outsized entourage; his mother estimates that, during his playing days, he was supporting 70 friends and family members in one way or another. And speaking of his mother, he built her a mansion in the Chicago suburbs, complete with an indoor pool, 10 bathrooms, and a full-size basketball court.
“Here’s the thing: Antoine always did it big,’’ said another former Celtics teammate. “When you make the large sums of money he made because of a max contract and, from my understanding, a pretty large deal from Adidas, I didn’t think he was living out of his range . . .
“But that’s what you see. You really don’t know what’s going on behind doors. Once you start living that lifestyle, it’s hard to stop.’’
After his July arrest, Walker did all he could to keep up appearances.
He posted $135,000 cash bail. The next day, he went ahead with the celebrity event he was in town for, the American Century Golf Championship, where he kept company with actors, all-stars, gold medalists, and Hall of Famers.
Behind the celebrity smiles, the picture was much grimmer. Walker managed to pay down just $178,000 of his bad-check debt before being charged, said Clark County prosecutor Bernie Zadrowski. The total being sought by the DA’s office, including court costs, is now $905,050.
And he faces a host of other claims. This summer J.P. Morgan Chase Bank, Wachovia Bank, and American Express Centurion Bank won decisions against Walker. He was ordered to pay J.P. Morgan Chase $1,571,771.47 and Wachovia $1,540,929.14 - both for failing to pay off sizeable promissory notes. From court documents, the loans appear originally related to Walker’s nonbasketball business endeavors.
A default was entered in the American Express case with $53,321.71 in overdue credit card charges at stake, including some that fit the picture of a free-spending star - an $1,843.45 dinner, with a $350 tip, for instance. Or, two nights at the Mandarin Oriental in Miami for $2,198.04. And Walker, remarkably, appears to have authorized five people to make charges on his card, not a strategy most personal finance professionals would recommend. Many of the charges appear to have been rung up by another individual, but Walker is on the hook.
Additionally, in March, an arbitrator ruled that Walker owed his former agent, Mark Bartelstein, more than $450,000 in unpaid fees. Bartelstein declined to comment about the matter.
“When I heard about [the arrest], my first reaction was, ‘I hope he’s all right,’ meaning he’s all right to pay the bills,’’ said another former Celtic teammate, who remembered Walker as a frequent high-stakes gambler.
Walker’s mother, Diane, said her son does not have a gambling problem. She added that “he doesn’t party any more than the next person’’ and “what you do with your life is your business.’’
“Antoine doesn’t owe anybody any explanation,’’ said Diane Walker. “He’s not out here hurting anybody. He’s trying to live his life peacefully. That’s all he’s doing . . . My son is young. Why can’t he just enjoy life, go where he wants to go?’’
Financial advisers often caution professional athletes to look at the big numbers on their contracts and subtract half for taxes. That rough math would have left Walker with approximately $55 million in career earnings to spend. NBA agents and players contacted for this article say an annual “burn rate’’ of $2 million to $4 million isn’t unusual for the living expenses of an elite player. With Walker’s taste for the finer things, former teammates suspect he fell on the higher end of the scale. In the 10 years since his first max-contract, that could account for about $40 million of Walker’s total wealth.
He was always high-end. And eager to show it.
Living at the Bishops Forest condominium complex in Waltham during the Celtics season, Walker turned the pavement surrounding his home into a virtual luxury car lot - two Bentleys, two Mercedes, a Range Rover, a Cadillac Escalade, a bright red Hummer. Often, the vehicles were tricked out with custom paint jobs, rims, and sound systems at considerable added expense. He also collected top-line watches - Rolexes and diamond-encrusted Cartiers.
Then, there were the custom-tailored suits - closets full of them, including the set he ordered for his first playoff run in 2002, enough so he wouldn’t wear a suit more than once during the postseason run. When the Celtics officially hired Jim O’Brien as head coach in 2001, Walker had his tailor make three suits and presented them to O’Brien.
When it came to his Celtics teammates, Walker took good care of them on the road. It wasn’t uncommon for Walker to hire limos to take out groups of teammates. And Walker always paid for the big dinner bills.
Walker’s extravagant ways didn’t stop in his post-Celtic years, when he played in Dallas, Atlanta, Miami, and Minnesota before his final NBA deal was bought out by the Memphis Grizzlies last year.
Bad investments and gambling losses may be to blame for draining away much of Walker’s remaining bankroll.
Gambling has long been a favorite form of entertainment for Walker. After a 2001 exhibition game at Mohegan Sun, Walker once reportedly played $15,000 hands with Michael Jordan during an all-night gambling session where estimates of money lost and won totaled several hundred thousand dollars. Prior to the 2003-04 season, when Celtics general manager Danny Ainge called Walker to tell him he had been traded, Walker was engrossed in a high-stakes blackjack game at Mohegan Sun.
Walker has also tried his hand at venture capital investing with Walker Ventures LLC and in real estate with AW Realty LLC. Walker Ventures appears on court documents as a codefendant in the American Express and J.P. Morgan Chase civil cases. Walker’s realty company is listed as the owner of several Chicago-area properties, including his mother’s home, once valued at $6 million but now worth a quarter of that, or less, according to more recent estimates.
When asked about her son’s recent, well-documented financial and legal problems, Diane Walker stood stoically outside her front door. She made a sweeping gesture toward the mansion, moving her hand past a giant brick “W’’ embedded in the driveway.
“Antoine is doing great,’’ said Diane. “I have my home. He has his home. If he’s doing so bad, then how could we still be here?’’
Curta, his high school coach, talks with Antoine Walker regularly by phone and is a frequent golf partner, proudly mentioning that the former Celtic recently broke 80 for the first time at Calumet Country Club in Homewood, Ill. When asked whether Walker ever said anything about financial worries, Curta said, “No.’’ When asked whether he ever saw any indications of financial problems for Walker, Curta added: “I don’t know everybody’s business. I wouldn’t say that.’’
When he had money to spare, Walker also enjoyed giving it away, particularly to children dealt bad hands in life. Raised by a single mother on Chicago’s South Side, he knew a lot about that. He established a charitable organization, The 8 Foundation, to channel his philanthropy. He arranged for Christmas gifts and courtside seats at Celtics games for underprivileged youngsters, paid for new uniforms and travel to tournaments for youth basketball teams, and conducted free basketball camps.
He also rewarded loyal family members and friends with expensive gifts. Shortly after being drafted, he gave his best friend a new car. A Mercedes sport utility vehicle parked in the driveway of his mother’s home was a gift from Antoine to his younger sister. And early in his NBA career, he paid off the debt his mother accumulated sending him to Catholic schools. He finally received his high school diploma when he took care of his overdue tuition.
“Antoine is a sweet person,’’ said Diane Walker. “Everything we have is pretty much a gift from Antoine.’’
But with the legal system closing in, and slim prospects of extending his NBA career, the stakes are now higher than ever for Antoine Walker. With few moves left, the question now is how, or if, he will ever get his wiggle back.Comment
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Rumeal Robinson
Rumeal Robinson, former Michigan hoops star and NBA player..
And swindled his own mom:Rumeal Robinson Blew His NBA Fortune on Strip Clubs
There are plenty of stories about athletes blowing their cash stores quickly, and ending up in bad financial shape within years of retiring from their chosen game. Rumeal Robinson fits that archetype. Robinson, who played for six teams over a six-year NBA career, did things a little differently though. He wasn't content to blow all of his money of material items and drugs.
He still bought plenty of material items, according to an in-depth story by the Miami New Times. But that's not what crushed him. What crushed him was what the New Times calls "a strip club habit that would have made Pacman Jones blush."
The New Times reports that Robinson would have strip club binges in which he'd spend $20,000 at a club per night for a week, all while bringing strippers back to his house to dance and even clean his house for various dollar amounts.
Once his NBA career ended and he hit rock bottom, Robinson made things worse by reportedly bribing a broker for a loan for his poorly planned real estate development firm, a firm he named after an extinct species of shark (Megalodon). The ill-begotten loan money didn't fund his business, of course. The New Times reports it funded luxuries like expensive steak dinners, high-flying hotel rooms, Cuban cigars and (ahem) a $10,000 M16 machine gun, purchased at a police supply store in Miami.
Worst of all, he sold the Connecticut home of his adoptive mother out from underneath her. She told police he tricked her into signing a deed. He took the $600,000, and she got booted out months later. Then he disappeared. Robinson is apparently homeless. He faces fraud charges related to the bank loan, with a court date set for November in Iowa.
Ex-NBA star Rumeal Robinson swindled mom out of her Cambridge home
Cambridge — Helen Ford has been known in the Cambridge community as a woman with a big heart and open arms for numerous foster children. But she never expected that one of her adopted sons, former NBA basketball player Rumeal Robinson, would play a part in evicting her from the place she called home for more than 30 years.
Ford, 65, is close to tears when she explains the day when a constable came to her door this past March and handed her an eviction notice — giving her one month to clear her home of her belongings and leave. Back in 2003, Robinson, now 43 years old and living in Florida, allegedly tricked his foster mother into signing over the deed to her own home — on a street named after him — and transferred the property to people unknown to her. They held the home as collateral in a suspected business transaction gone wrong.
Ford’s attorney, Dennis Benzan, said he is seeking a civil suit against Robinson.
But Benzan said Robinson has other legal troubles to deal with, separate from this case. Last month, the FBI arrested Robinson and charged him with conspiracy to commit bank fraud, bank bribery, false statement to a financial institution and wire fraud.
Robinson pleaded not guilty to the charges. Calls to Robinson’s attorney in this case, Hugo Rodriguez, were not immediately returned.
In Ford’s case, stemming back to 2003, she said what she thought she was signing was the mortgage so that Robinson could help her make the payments.
But it wasn’t.
She said Robinson told her of a real estate opportunity in Jamaica, where he was born, and asked for her support to build a luxury vacation resort.
But he didn’t.
For years, Ford said she didn’t receive any notices from the bank. No knocks on the door. She occasionally spoke to Robinson on the phone, but was never told that the mortgage was not being paid.
“I just couldn’t believe a son would do this,” Ford said.
Ford, who still works as a safety specialist for the Cambridge School District, said she never thought her charitable work and kind soul would fire back at her.
She vividly remembers the moment that put her adopted son on the map.
Robinson, who graduated from Cambridge Rindge and Latin High School in 1986, is most famous for hitting two crucial free throws in the 1989 NCAA Men’s Division I Basketball Championship game for the University of Michigan Wolverines against Seton Hall University.
“There were three seconds on the clock,” she said.
Robinson was drafted in 1990 by the Atlanta Hawks and also played for the New Jersey Nets, Charlotte Hornets, Portland Trail Blazers, Phoenix Suns and Los Angeles Lakers.
Ford said Robinson’s biological mother abandoned him at a young age. Ford took him under her wing at age 12, and made a place for him inside her home where she raised five biological children and more than 15 foster children. In 2006, Ford was honored by the Boston Celtics with the “Heroes Among Us” award for her dedication to shelter those most in need.
“It was a community home,” she said. “Any child could come into my home. Kids shouldn’t be shuffled around like a deck of cards.”
In December 2007, she received a notice from Cambridge District Court telling her that she had to vacate her home by February 2008. Apparently Robinson had deeded the property to numerous other business associates, and in 2006, one of those individuals defaulted on a loan which forced the bank to take ownership.
“The house no longer belongs to Helen,” said Ford’s attorney, Dennis Benzan, who wants to start up a legal fund for his client, a neighbor and family friend.
Ford was able to extend her stay for an additional year, but as of April she has been living in a two-bedroom apartment in Somerville. The grandchildren who were living with her have been displaced to the homes of other family members.
“What he did to his mother, no child should ever do,” Benzan said.
Now all Ford wants to do is get her home back.
The FBI arrested Robinson last month after allegedly scheming with a commercial loan officer in a scheme dating back to 2004 with his girlfriend, Stephanie Hodge. They allegedly operated with Community State Bank, a financial institution insured by the Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation in Iowa, under the suspected guise of funding the real estate development in Jamaica.
Benzan said he is going to work with the FBI on the case, but plans to seek relief from the courts so Ford’s house cannot be sold. He plans to file a lawsuit against everyone involved in evicting Ford from her home.
Robinson became a highly celebrated Cantabrigian over the years. There was a parade in his honor in Cambridge. The cul de sac he grew up on, formerly known as Norfolk Place, now reads Rumeal Robinson Place. There is even a mural of Robinson inside the high school.
“He loved the game,” she said about her basketball fame.
But Ford said she wants all that to change. She wants the mural taken down. She wants the street to be named after her husband, Louis, who died in 2001 from dementia.
But through it all, she still has love in her heart.
“Even with all of this, I still love Rumeal,” she said. “I just want my home back; this is my city.”Comment
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Randy Brown
Former NBA Champ and Chicago Bull Randy Brown pawned his NBA Championship rings... http://www.sportscollectorsdaily.com...hip-rings.html
Ex-NBA Player Forced to Sell Championship Rings
Randy Brown earned three NBA championship rings while playing on the Michael Jordan era Bulls. He also made a lot of money. Now, though, his rings are being sold at a bankruptcy auction.
Former NBA player and assistant coach Randy Brown has declared bankruptcy and his three championship rings will be for sale to the highest bidder via online auction at WestAuction.com.
Brown, who made a name for himself in Sacramento--first as a player and later as an assistant coach--joined the Bulls just in time to win three straight NBA titles in 1996, 1997 and 1998. He was a member of Kenny Natt's Sacramento staff fired after the NBA regular season ended in mid-April.
"It's a tough situation," says Dennis West , of West Auctions, the company charged with auctioning the rings. "Randy seems like a really good guy, and he was a great player. However, these are tough times for a lot of people from a variety of backgrounds. People are making difficult financial decisions, and for some that means bankruptcy."
Brown's three championship rings are expected to hit the auction block on May 19 and will be sold as a group. Bidding will start at $19,000.Comment
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Joe Pace
Joe Pace of the Seattle Supersonics
Former NBA Player Joe Pace Goes From Glory to Homeless Shelter
SEATTLE — Once the tables have been moved out of the way and the floor has been mopped, Joe Pace grabs a tan mattress off a stack, slides it into a corner and beds down at the Family and Adult Service Center on Third Avenue.
His feet hang over the edge of the mat, so he rolls up a blanket to support them. He shares the room with 60 people. He pays $3 a night for this privilege.
Thirty years ago next month, Pace slept in one of Seattle's finest hotels, though he can't remember which one, as a visiting pro basketball player for the Washington Bullets, sharing in an NBA championship won in this city at the expense of the Sonics.
A snack bar, room service and chocolate left on the pillow are no longer an option for this 6-foot-10 man, who is homeless in Seattle.
"Sometimes I don't want to wake up, I'm so sad," he said. "Sometimes I wake up crying and say, 'What did I do to be like this?"'
Instead of becoming a millionaire, Pace, 54, frequents the Millionair Club, another downtown facility for the destitute that provides meals and job leads. He sits at the front door as a security guard from 6 a.m. to 2 p.m., wearing a gold badge and clutching a black walkie-talkie. He performs this chore more for something to do than as a source of income, regularly limping outside for cigarette breaks.
Pace spends the rest of his afternoons riding on buses, using a disabled passenger pass he bought for $8. He is afforded this right because he has degenerative disks in his back and is in need of surgery he can't afford on both knees. He takes trips to Woodinville and Tacoma, simply to kill time.
Then it's back to his homeless shelter. Pace usually is asleep by 8:30 or 9 p.m.
"NBA players are all looked at as millionaires, but a lot of guys back in those days didn't make it, and Joe is one of them," said Zaid Abdul-Aziz, a former Sonics forward. "The image of them as big, opulent people isn't always true. They take a fall sometimes."
Of all the things Pace longs for, the simple pleasure of soaking in a hot bathtub ranks near the very top. There have been the rare moments when he has paid for a hotel room just to turn on the water and give his aching, middle-aged body some needed relief. It beats the homeless shelter showers he considers risky at best in regards to good hygiene, especially when barefoot.
For that matter, he doesn't shake hands or exchange high-fives anymore with people he encounters in a similar situation, and he's friendly enough. Repeated colds and congested lungs have forced him to adopt this policy. Fist bumps are much healthier.
"That hand could have 5,000 germs on it," he said unapologetically.
Pace rode a bus to Seattle in 2002 on impulse after wandering aimlessly through his hometown of New Brunswick, N.J., and Baltimore, Charlotte and Atlanta for a decade, unable to thrive without basketball.
"It's where I played my last NBA game," he said of his current city. "It was like I can't do nothing wrong here."
Pace spent just two seasons in the league, appearing in 88 games for Washington, including a pair of playoff contests against the Sonics, drawing mop-up duty in Game 2 and Game 6 of the finals. He was paid $35,000 each year. The Bullets drafted him in the second round, as the 31st player overall, envisioning the big man as a future replacement for center Wesley Unseld.
The pros became enamored with Pace after he led Baltimore-based Coppin State to the 1976 NAIA championship and was named most valuable player, supplying 43 points, 12 rebounds and six blocked shots in a 96-91 title-game victory over Henderson State (Ark.).
"He was a very explosive, athletic player," said former Sonics center James Donaldson. "He could jump all day."
Impatient with his NBA progress — and unwittingly leaving himself one season shy of a receiving a pension — Pace took his game overseas. He got a good look at the rest of the world over the next 12 years. He played in Italy, Venezuela, Mexico, Panama, England, the Philippines and Argentina.
He was married twice, fathering a child each with American and Argentine spouses. He bought a Buenos Aires convenience store and sent money home to family members who never had much.
He became homeless after injuries and a haze of drugs and alcohol. Everything came undone for Pace in Argentina when he dunked and landed on his back, crashing to the floor when a guy grabbed his legs.
"I think they sent him in there to take me out," Pace said. "My legs went numb. I stayed in bed for eight months."
His problems multiplied after botched back surgery, a case of gangrene and the break-up of his second marriage. He left South America in poor health and without basketball or any other livelihood to count on.
"My wife said she wasn't going to stay married to a cripple who couldn't play basketball anymore," he said. "We had to close the store and there was no money. Her family was saying, 'Why don't you get rid of that bum?"'
Back in the States, Pace had few prospects. He started abusing alcohol and drugs, and eventually was forced to go through rehabilitation. He sold his NBA championship ring for $1,000 to a Baltimore pawnshop, his biggest regret. He started bouncing from city to city.
He's still living on the edge in Seattle. He receives a monthly $600 permanent disability check. He has $2 in a bank account. His name is on a long waiting list for subsidized housing.
"He's my baby," said Selina Daniels, a Family and Adult Service Center administrator. "My job is to try and help him obtain permanent housing. He's trying to do something but it's hard. You just can't take life for granted. We're all one paycheck from being homeless."
In recent weeks, the NBA Retired Players Association has publicized Pace's dire situation to its members, collecting clothing, toiletries and other nonperishable donations for him. The man wears a size 44 coat and 18 shoe, according to the organization's Web site.
Mitch Kupchak, Los Angeles Lakers general manager, has provided clothing and gift certificates to his former Bullets teammate and calls him a couple of times a month. Others have chipped in with coats and shoes.
Abdul-Aziz and Donaldson have stopped in to see him. Vester Marshall Jr., another former Sonics player and ordained minister, has been supportive.
Meantime, Pace rolls out his tan mattress every night. The makeshift bed is hard. The floor is cold. His mood is flat. He has significant hypertension and liver problems. He's trying his best to stay hopeful, to make a difficult comeback.
He's a long way from the NBA, though KeyArena, a place he used to frequent in uniform when it was the Coliseum, is less than a mile away.
"I'm surprised I'm still alive," Pace said. "I guess there's a purpose in life."Comment
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Latrell Sprewell
Played for the Warriors, Knicks and T'Wolves
Ex-NBA star Sprewell sells $1.5 million yacht, home could be foreclosed
MILWAUKEE -- Former NBA star Latrell Sprewell's home is up for foreclosure and his yacht sold at auction to help pay off the $1.3 million he owes on the boat, according to court filings.
Sprewell, who once turned down a three-year, $21 million contract extension saying, "I've got my family to feed," has apparently fallen on tough times.
RBS Citizens NA, or Citizens Bank, filed a foreclosure suit last week in Milwaukee County for the $405,000 home Sprewell bought in the Milwaukee suburb of River Hills in 1994.
In court documents, the bank said Sprewell owed $295,138 in outstanding payments plus interest.
Sprewell failed to make his mortgage payments of $2,593 per month from September 2007 to January 2008, the documents said.
The Associated Press tried to reach Sprewell for comment Monday but a telephone number in his name was disconnected. A message to one of his attorneys, Robert A. Gist of Atlanta, and an agency in New York were not immediately returned.
The 37-year-old Sprewell played 13 seasons in the NBA for the Minnesota Timberwolves, the New York Knicks and the Golden State Warriors. The Milwaukee native was a four-time All-Star, but perhaps best known for choking coach P.J. Carlesimo during a Warriors practice in 1997.
He hasn't played professional basketball since turning down the $21 million extension from the Timberwolves during the 2004-05 season. He was making $14.6 million at the time.
Last month, Sprewell's 70-foot yacht, named "Milwaukee's Best," was sold at auction for $856,000 to a man from Milwaukee.
It was originally worth about $1.5 million. The bank holding that mortgage, New York-based North Fork Bank, asked that it be seized to pay off $1.3 million in debt.
Sprewell's firm, LSF Marine Holdings, hadn't made its $10,322 monthly payments on time or maintained the necessary insurance on the boat, the bank said. Sprewell bought the yacht built by the Italian firm Azimut-Benetti in 2003, according to court records.
A federal marshal seized the boat last summer in Manitowoc, about 80 miles north of Milwaukee, where it was in storage.
The sale price means the bank is still owed about $500,000, and it said in court filings it plans to go after the rest.
Last week, prosecutors in New York said they'd drop their case against Sprewell, who was accused of assaulting his girlfriend in front of their children. Prosecutors in Westchester County said the charges will be dismissed in a year if Sprewell stays out of trouble.Comment
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There is a really good article by "anonymous [American] football player" (who I think is Matt Birk) talking about athletes and money. If ya'll can, check it out.Comment
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Luther Wright, Utah Jazz
Former player Luther Wright, not so much bankruptcy but drugs, alcohol brought him down. His estimated NBA salary was ~$2,535,000
To Hell and Back With Luther Wright
JERSEY CITY, NJ -- Luther Wright wakes up at 5:15 every morning, kisses his peacefully sleeping wife, then looks down at the toes on his right foot -- the three remaining ones -- to help prepare for the battle he must wage that day.
It's his key to staying sober, his key to staying alive.
Wright is the former Seton Hall University basketball giant whose stunning washout from the NBA's Utah Jazz started a destructive spiral that led him through a decade of drug addiction, rehab clinics, a mental institution and eventual homelessness on the streets where he once was so revered.
The two missing toes are like Post-it reminders of the nightmare he lived for several years. They were lopped off -- all rotted and frostbitten -- just before Christmas of 2004 by an emergency-room intern who was trying to save the rest of a badly infected foot. Wright had stumbled without shoes into the local hospital one night, riding high on yet another cocaine/meth/alcohol binge.
He never felt a thing.
"I do remember saying, 'He just cut off my toes. Damn.' Sometimes when I look back, I have to laugh about it now, just to keep from crying. But it's good for me. I've been clean for four years, seven months, and ... what's the date today? (Nov. 17 he is told) ... And 10 days,'' he finished. "I'm real proud of that. I've been to hell, and I don't want to go back.''
Wright, 38, is a part-time assistant basketball coach/mentor today at Globe Technical Institute, a low-budget junior college in New York City. He also works as a disc jockey for private parties. He loves the music. He plays guitar in a blues band. He just finished a talk show on a small Christian radio station. He plays gospel every Sunday – both services -- at the Morningstar Community Christian Center in Linden, N.J. He leads a weeknight Bible study class there. He talks to youth groups regularly. He wants to re-enroll at Seton Hall to finish his degree, if he can find enough money for tuition. His day is full.
"I have to stay busy. I need to have structure now. I don't know what the future holds for me, because I'm not there yet, but I know if I do A, B, C, and D every day, the future will be that much brighter,'' he said. "I'm lucky to be alive. And I'm thankful for that. A lot of people don't make it out alive like I did.''
Luther Wright's Story
Afton Almaraz, AOL
Luther Wright is a former Seton Hall University basketball giant whose stunning washout from the NBA started a destructive spiral that led him through a decade of drug addiction and eventual homelessness on the streets of New Jersey, before finding salvation through church and God.
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Luther Wright's Story
Luther Wright is a former Seton Hall University basketball giant whose stunning washout from the NBA started a destructive spiral that led him through a decade of drug addiction and eventual homelessness on the streets of New Jersey, before finding salvation through church and God.
Afton Almaraz, AOL
Afton Almaraz, AOL
Luther Wright is a former Seton Hall University basketball giant whose stunning washout from the NBA started a destructive spiral that led him through a decade of drug addiction and eventual homelessness on the streets of New Jersey, before finding salvation through church and God.
Afton Almaraz, AOL
Wright, shown here during the 1993-94 NBA season playing against Shaquille O'Neal, was a first-round draft pick by the Utah Jazz. He only played one season before being released.
Fernando Medina, NBAE/Getty Images
Wright greets friends prior to a Sunday service at Morningstar Community Christian Center in Linden, New Jersey. Wright first arrived at the center in 2006, just over a year after losing two toes to frostbite, stumbling into a local hospital shoeless, high and with a badly infected foot.
Afton Almaraz, AOL
Wright studies the Bible prior to teaching a Sunday school class at the center. After his brief NBA career was over, upon returning home to New Jersey, "I wanted to live on the street, to be where the drugs were, where the action was. Nobody forced me to do drugs, to be an addict. I brought it on myself.''
Afton Almaraz, AOL
Wright reads from the Bible while teaching a Sunday school class. Now 38, Wright is a part-time assistant basketball coach/mentor today at Globe Technical Institute, a junior college in New York City.
Afton Almaraz, AOL
Wright plays the electric guitar in the Morningstar Community Christian Center choir during both both Sunday worship services.
Afton Almaraz, AOL
Wright met his wife of two years, Angela Felton-Wright, at the center. "I think what he's been through in his life really humbled him, as you'd expect. But I don't think it haunts him anymore.''
Afton Almaraz, AOL
Gone are the days when his best friend was a crack pipe, when his only goal was hustling to get high, scoring again and again so he could chase away all the demons in his head that wouldn't leave him alone.
Gone are the days when he wandered the streets of Irvington and Elizabeth, N.J. -- close to where he grew up -- begging for loose change in the parking lot of fast-food restaurants, urinating in alleyways, sleeping in abandoned buildings, bedding down at night with drug dealers and derelicts, stumbling through day after day, week after week, month after month in a chemically induced haze.
"I still remember seeing him about 5-6 years ago, barefoot, no shirt, looking horrible. He was riding a bicycle. He couldn't even talk. I hardly recognized him,'' said Stan Neron, once a teammate at nearby Elizabeth High who is now the Youth Services Director for the city. "He used to be the biggest star we ever had here. To see him at the bottom like that, it was shocking. I was in disbelief. This was a guy who once had it all.''
As a first-round draft pick by the Utah Jazz in 1993, Wright signed a five-year, $5 million contract. At 7-foot-2, 275 pounds, he was a mountain of a man, expected to be the center who eventually could compliment stars Karl Malone and John Stockton and help them win that elusive NBA title.
He bought a mansion there, moved his mother, brother and sister to Salt Lake City. He quickly started living the good life of an NBA player without a clue on what it took to actually be one.
He liked smoking pot too much, drinking whiskey, chasing and catching women, playing music a lot more than he liked the NBA. And all his vices became easier with money. His passion wasn't basketball. It was getting high. He was unstable, unable to focus on his job. The Jazz knew almost immediately that they had made a mistake.
Before one early season game in Houston, he stopped warming up with his teammates so he could play the drum set that was courtside for a band scheduled to play that night. Malone chastised him. Earlier in the day, Wright had gone to a pet store, bought a puppy and smuggled it onto the team bus in hopes of flying it home that night.
With both the stars of the team and the coach riding him hard, he buckled into bouts of depression. The Jazz sent him to a psychiatrist, who diagnosed him with both an attention-deficit and a bi-polar disorder. They gave him strong medicine that didn't mesh well with the marijuana he was smoking every day. It only made things worse.
A state trooper in Utah found him at 4 AM one morning at an interstate rest area, banging on garbage cans and smashing windshields. He played only 15 games for the Jazz in his one and only season before they released him. He went home to New Jersey a failure, laying the groundwork for a decade of delusion.
"I just felt like I didn't fit in, in Utah and in the NBA. I didn't approach it as a job. I just thought since I was big, I was entitled to be there. And that was my fault. I did myself in,'' he said. "I invited my family to come there, then got mad because they just laid around the house waiting for my money. I let a lot of people down.''
Wright had his NBA contract converted into an annuity that would have paid him $150,000 for the next 25 years, but he botched that, too, giving family members access to his finances. He is receiving only a fraction of that money today. For all his faults, he was likable, funny and always wanting to please those around him. He started making four different child support payments every month, even though later DNA tests revealed two of the children were his.
He couldn't face those who ridiculed him for failure, so he started hiding behind harder drugs and stronger whiskey. The crack cocaine gave him a trip he craved. Friends tried to help, but he never listened. He tried living at his mother's house. He tried living with friends. His family checked him into a mental hospital once to have him institutionalized.
It always ended the same: back on the street running from his past, slipping further and further away from those who cared.
"The first time I saw him living on the street, I didn't believe it was him, except it had to be him because there is no one else his size,'' said Tchaka Shipp, his former teammate at Seton Hall who works for the New York Board of Education. "I had lost touch with him. My last memory of him was when we were playing together in the Meadowlands, and he was busting (North Carolina center Eric) Montross's ass. Just killing him. Luther was so strong. And to see what had become of him, was sad.''
Although homelessness across American is often hidden and faceless, Wright's size -- he had bloated close to 400 pounds -- and his past stature in the area made him almost a legend on the street as he bounced around, in seedy crack houses on the rough sides of town.
More times than he wants to remember, he was hustling from gun shots and robberies on the street. He saw a man stabbed in a drug deal gone bad. He saw another man beaten to a pulp. He saw other things he won't even admit. He had lost half his teeth to decay and rot.
"Some homeless people can't help it. They are not there by choice, but by circumstances. With me, it was a choice I made,'' he said. "I could have gone back to my mother's house, but I didn't want her to see me like that every day. I wanted to live on the street, to be where the drugs were, where the action was. Nobody forced me to do drugs, to be an addict. I brought it on myself.''
"It was like I was in the spin cycle of a wash machine, just going around and around and around. I finally realized, if I kept going, I wasn't getting out alive."
-- Luther Wright Old friends would often see him and offer clothes, shoes, and food. Any money that he received just went for more drugs. Even the local police in the area knew who he was, and often looked the other way. He was arrested a few times, but never for anything real serious. For all his troubles, he never spent any real time in jail beyond a one-night holding cell. To some, he still was the likeable gentle giant they wanted to remember.
Police were called once to a local McDonald's because he was being belligerent inside, and the responding officers knew him well. They led him away in handcuffs, which barely fit over his beefy wrists, to satisfy the owner, then took him to the police station, where they gave him some sweatpants and bought him a bucket of fried chicken, complete with fries and a soda, before sending him back out into the night.
The man in the next cell asked him if he was some kind of celebrity. Wright smiled sadly, then passed some of his chicken through the bars.
Somehow, he always seemed to get a warning -- through a friend or a cop passing by -- before police raided a crack house that he frequented, or busted up a drug deal in which he might be involved. He would know beforehand not to be at a certain locations at certain times.
It wasn't long after his two toes were amputated that he warmed to the idea of getting help. He was killing himself. He was buying more crack, smoking his brains out again, never taking care of the wounds on his foot when it started bleeding uncontrollably. He went back to the hospital, went into a bathroom and looked in a mirror.
He thought it was someone else.
"You can't get much more hopeless than I was,'' Wright said. "It was like I was in the spin cycle of a wash machine, just going around and around and around. I finally realized, if I kept going, I wasn't getting out alive.''
Becoming an Inspiration
Wright was telling his story earlier this month shortly after Globe Institute had finished a basketball practice. Although it is the same game he once played, it's a world away from playing in the lush, pampered surroundings of the NBA, or even from his glory days at Seton Hall or Elizabeth High.
Practices are in a recreation facility in the midst of a New York City housing project, across town from the third floor of a city high rise in which the school rents its space. The facility is only available from 7 to 9 AM, before classes start.
Wright takes a train into the city each morning. He must duck to keep from hitting his head almost everywhere he goes, on his way into the gym, through some of the narrow subway tunnels, and also into the breakfast café where we stopped to eat.
He drinks five glasses of orange juice before we leave.
He dwarfs almost everyone he passes, cutting a path down busy city sidewalks. As he passes, people turn and look, often quizzically, wondering who he is -- or was. He is the biggest man most everyone will meet.
At practice, he offers tips to the big men on post play. He shows them positioning around the basket. He is easily the biggest man in the gym. Players listen closely when he talks. He talks about drugs, and women, and temptations, to the kids after practice. He shows them his toes.
He has become an inspiration.
"Luther really has been good for us,'' said Mark Morse, the head coach who hired him just few months ago on the advice of both Neron and Shipp. "He talks to the kids, not just about basketball, but about life, and what's out there. I think we help him, but he helps us, too, probably more than he knows.''
Wright spends almost as much on train/bus fare each week as he is paid by the school. His two-week, net take-home check is worth $147.
Wright never was a great basketball player, but he never really needed to be. He was so big, so strong that early success came easily to him. He usually frustrated coaches by his lack of focus and motivation. Yet they craved his potential. He helped Seton Hall to back-to-back NCAA Tournament appearances before the Jazz made him the 18th selection in the 1993 Draft.
He enrolled back at Seton Hall during the spring semester, but left again because he couldn't afford the books this fall. His free ride was over.
"I think what he's been through in his life really humbled him, as you'd expect,'' said Angela Felton-Wright, his wife of two years whom he met at Morningstar Community Christian Center. "But I don't think it haunts him anymore.''
Wright and his wife, a school teacher, are both in the choir at Morningstar, where she sings with a smile and he plays the guitar with a passion that comes from his heart. She didn't know him -- which is fortunate -- during his years as an addict, but she has heard all the horror stories. At times, she is his angel, seeing only the good side.
It was his friend, Neron, who almost dragged him to church originally, but it was Wright's own perseverance, and his wife's presence, that kept him coming back for more.
He takes no medication now for the mental disorders that he and the doctors once said contributed to his problems. He speaks clearly, and lives cleanly today. His eyes are bright again. His teeth have been fixed. As big as he is, his shuffle has purpose, both on the court coaching, and down the street to his next venture. He likes himself, his new life.
After 90 minutes more of talking about himself in an office adjacent to a classroom at the school, Wright begins to get antsy. He yawns. He takes off his right shoe and wiggles the three toes. He scratches the spot where the other two were supposed to be.
"When my wife and I are driving through an area where I used to get high all the time, I reminisce sometimes. But I'm not Luther Wright the crack head, the pot smoker, the menace anymore. I used to be crazy. Even the doctors wrote me off,'' he said. "Today, I'm Luther Wright, who is doing well, and thankful every single day.''Comment
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Wow. Derrick Coleman used to be such a great player.
According to Wikipedia, Sports Illustrated said that "Coleman could have been the best power forward ever; instead he played just well enough to ensure his next paycheck." Ironic.
Derrick Coleman Files For Bankruptcy - Click on Detroit, March 17, 2010
A former Detroit Piston and local businessman has filed for bankruptcy.
According to financial documents obtained by Local 4, Derrick Coleman has filed for Chapter 7 and has an estimated debt of $2.19.
Coleman owes between 50 and 99 creditors, including Detroit Mayor Dave Bing, American Express, Comerica, Sprint, Verizon, Hungry Howie's Pizza and Nike.
Rich Kassa owns XL Autobody and Paint in Warren, and said Coleman owes him money for work he's done on his cars.
"I know Derrick Coleman well. I've done several vehicles for him and some other NBC players," Kassa said. "It's just an unfortunate situation."
Kassa said Coleman brought in a 1957 Buick two years ago, hoping to get it into shape. But that the car is still sitting in his garage because Coleman hasn't paid the bill.
"He's given me some money and I'm working it out with his attorneys. I don't know if they're going to auction the vehicle, or what," Kassa said.
Coleman was not available for comment, but his attorney, Mark Berke, issued the following statement: "Due to the state of the economy, including the decline in the real estate market, Mr. Coleman's investments could not be sustained. Attempts were made to remedy the circumstances. However, Mr. Coleman's efforts were unsuccessful. Mr. Coleman still has faith in, and is dedicated to, the city of Detroit. We are hopeful that this process will be amicable and cooperative for all parties involved."
Coleman also owned the Detroit restaurant Sweet Georgia Brown, which closed last year.
Coleman was born in Alabama but grew up in Detroit and went to college at Syracuse University. He was selected first overall in the 1990 NBA draft by the New Jersey Nets. He played for the Detroit Pistons from 2004-2005."I really like the attitudes of eagles. They never give up. When they grab a fish or something else, they never let it go. It doesn't matter. In a book, they write they find a skeleton of [an] eagle and there is no fish. It means that the fish beat him and killed him, but he didn't let go." -- Donatas MotiejunasComment
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how can u go broke as a millionaire wooowComment
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by being very stupid what a loserOriginally posted by mattyg253 View Postdo you need to improve your verticle....then you should check this out....Comment
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Add Rick Mahorn to the list.
Detroit Pistons 'Bad Boy' Mahorn says he's broke by Robert Snell, The Detroit News, April 22, 2010
Former Detroit Pistons "Bad Boy" Rick Mahorn, a member of the 1989 NBA championship team and the franchise's radio analyst, has filed for bankruptcy and lost his $500,000 home, records show.
Mahorn, 51, and his wife filed Chapter 7 bankruptcy because of failed investments, the plummeting value of their Rochester Hills home, and the burden of repaying more than $200,000 to the IRS, he said. Portions of his paychecks have been seized to satisfy delinquent federal taxes, records show. Along with Derrick Coleman, Mahorn is the second retired Pistons star to file bankruptcy in recent months.
Last week, the trustee overseeing Mahorn's Chapter 7 filing accused him of failing to account for several assets, including his NBA pension and championship rings: one with the Pistons and two as a coach of the WNBA's Detroit Shock.
The whereabouts of his Pistons ring is a mystery.
"It's gone," he said in an interview with The Detroit News.
Mahorn, who earned more than $6.8 million and a reputation for aggressive defensive play during an 18-year career, and Coleman are the latest in a recent string of retired Detroit athletes to experience financial problems, including former Detroit Lion Luther Elliss and former Red Wings Darren McCarty and Sergei Fedorov.
"Like any normal American, I'm trying to find a job to better myself," Mahorn said. "I'm doing everything possible."
...
The bankruptcy filing came despite Mahorn earning a six-figure salary in recent years through jobs coaching the Shock and as color commentator on Pistons radio broadcasts. The couple made $161,065 in 2008 but his income fell to an estimated $100,000 last year.
He was netting $6,161 a month but his average monthly expenses were $12,763, according to bankruptcy court records.
Following an NBA career that included stints with the Washington Bullets, Pistons, Philadelphia 76ers and New Jersey Nets, Mahorn has coached for several teams, including the Atlanta Hawks and in the Continental Basketball Association.
Mahorn was head coach of the Shock for one season before the team was sold last year and relocated to Tulsa, Okla.
When the Mahorns filed, they had $100 cash and $1,001 in two checking accounts. He was leasing a 2007 Cadillac Escalade and owned a 1999 Lincoln Navigator worth $2,200, and a 1971 Oldsmobile 442 worth $10,000; and his wife owned a 2000 Volkswagen Jetta with 85,000 miles on the odometer.
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Under assets, Mahorn didn't list the Pistons championship ring, because he says he no longer owns it. He said he gave the ring to his late mother but would not say what happened to it afterward.
Mahorn still owns the two Shock championship rings and his lawyer is trying to verify who possesses the Pistons ring. He said he plans on filing updated paperwork in bankruptcy court to reflect additional jewelry items and other documents requested by the trustee.
Mahorn would not discuss his NBA pension.
..."I really like the attitudes of eagles. They never give up. When they grab a fish or something else, they never let it go. It doesn't matter. In a book, they write they find a skeleton of [an] eagle and there is no fish. It means that the fish beat him and killed him, but he didn't let go." -- Donatas MotiejunasComment
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Kenny Anderson, for a few years one of the best PGs in the country, finally graduated after joining the NBA and going bankrupt. Great story. This man's turn-around is an inspiring story.
Kenny Anderson Gradutes - By GEORGE VECSEY, New York Times, May 12, 2010
After the child support and the squandered millions, Kenny Anderson was the one who registered for college, who mastered the digital classroom, who studied in his spare time.
“My son sees me with books in my knapsack and he says, ‘You’re 39 years old, you’re still going to school?’ ” Anderson said of his son Ken Jr., 9.
The payoff will come Saturday at St. Thomas University in Miami, when Anderson will don his cap and gown and graduate, 19 years after leaving Georgia Tech.
The degree is a statement that his life did not end after 14 years in the N.B.A., after the tangled relationships with his seven children with five women — much better now, he said — and the vanished salary, somewhere above $60 million. He did that himself, too....
...“Kenny was a little too generous,” said Jack Curran, 79, the longtime coach at Archbishop Molloy in Queens, acknowledging that Anderson was a soft touch in the old neighborhood. Then there were all the cars and the night life and the rest, a common story among pro athletes....."I really like the attitudes of eagles. They never give up. When they grab a fish or something else, they never let it go. It doesn't matter. In a book, they write they find a skeleton of [an] eagle and there is no fish. It means that the fish beat him and killed him, but he didn't let go." -- Donatas MotiejunasComment
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