Tipping Point

Pro players pumped for franchising

By Nancy Weingartner
As published in: Franchise Times - September 2008

Lorenzo Neal wants two more years. The All-Pro fullback isn't ready to retire, but after being cut loose by the San Diego Chargers, he may not have a choice.

"After 15 years, it feels weird – not being the first girl asked to the dance," the free agent says. "I was all-pro, the first one picked and I'm still at home on the couch watching Scooby-Doo. I miss the guys; I miss being part of a team."

He probably misses his salary, too, which Sports Illustrated online calculated was $1,592,880 for the 2007 season.

The average NFL salary was $1.4 million last year, while the median is $777,000, according to sports Internet sites. While the money is good – for a part-time job no less – the longevity isn't. The average career in the NFL is three to five years, so Neal's lengthy career is a tribute to his tenacity, as well as skill. "Hard work pays off. I may not be the strongest or the fastest, but you're not going to outwork me," he says.

While still an active player, Neal also actively pursued ways to invest his millions. He formed PIA, Players in Action, an investment group with other players, such as LaDainian Tomlinson, his teammate on the Chargers and the 2006 league MVP.

"When you're a professional athlete everyone's in your pocket," Neal says. And considering a number of those athletes are young men right out of college who find themselves suddenly wealthy beyond their dreams, they're ripe for unscrupulous predators.

As a veteran, Neal says he feels he's a role model for the younger players on how to make the most of the platform professional athletes are given. "You have to surround yourself with good people," he says.

It was during a conversation with Dennis Mulgannon, founder of Athletic Nation, a men's personal training center, on finding a fit for his nutritional line that Neal realized the gym concept also might be a fit. Neal was positioning his company, Power Nutrition, to become one of the concept's vendors. Instead, he decided to become one of the investors in the men's-only gym.

Athletic Nation is a no-nonsense, no-frills gym, where out-of-shape, professional men can work out one-on-one with a trainer to get back to their high school athletic body, Mulgannon says. It's an intense training, where results come quickly, he says, and is based on the program Mulgannon developed to get himself back into shape following the stress of a divorce, a tanking tech market and a health scare.

"Dennis is a good man," Neal says. "There's guys I know I would push this product to...It's a great concept for retired players," who are used to working out daily.

Another conference

Neal is one of a new breed of athletes who is taking a proactive role in managing the NFL paycheck given to "grown men playing a kid's game making a king's ransom."

Franchising always has been an option for retired players, but now it's being organized and packaged. Eric Eisenberg of Iron Mountain Sports, who manages a number of athletes, teamed up with Mario Altiery, president of Upside Group Franchise Consulting, to present an informational seminar to professional athletes in June at the Bellagio Resort in Las Vegas. A number of Eisenberg's clients were already involved in franchising, but Eisenberg believed they needed professional advice on how to evaluate all the offerings out there. Sixty-seven retired and active athletes, almost all from the NFL, met with 32 different concepts. Franchisors paid $6,000 to present and then meet one-on-one with the players, according to promotional materials.

"We wanted to provide them with education, not just present opportunities," Eisenberg says.

Nate Wayne, who played with a number of teams, including the Denver Broncos and Green Bay Packers, says he told Eisenberg after attending the two-day event: "This was good, but it was two years late for me."

Wayne is a Cold Stone Creamery franchisee, and although he's happy with his decision, he says he wished he had known more about franchising at the time – crucial info, such as the contract is negotiable, as are real estate leases.

That's where Altiery came in. His role was to provide the ins and outs of franchising. He also hand-picked consultants to answer questions, such as Eric Riess, a partner with the law firm Greensfelder, Hemker & Gale.

Almost all the athletes who attended are millionaires, Altiery says, and they specifically asked for this type of event.

"These guys can all write checks," he says. In fact, one asked him whether he should bother with financing. "He said, 'I just got a $15-million signing bonus, could I just use that?'" Altiery says.

When Altiery approached franchisors about attending the event, "not a lot turned me down, but I was surprised even one did," he says.

About 30 percent of the athletes attending already owned franchises, but were interested in diversifying, Altiery says.

What's important for players to understand, Altiery says, is that franchising has two different opportunities – investors and hands-on.

Marco's Pizza's interest was to match athlete investors with proven operators, says Cameron Cummins, vice president of franchise marketing and recruitment. Four to five of the athletes he met are interested in investing with operators. The only glitch is that the active players have reported back to camp and it's hard to connect with them, Cummins says. His second line of defense is to get their wives or financial advisors to call him back.

Not all of the athletes wanted to be passive investors.

Wayne, for instance, was one of the former pros who had already taken the hands-on route. He acknowledges that some of his peers feel working in the business is beneath them. But he enjoys getting his hands icy in his Cold Stone Creamery store. "Some days my whole family's in there. My 9-year-old daughter's making waffle cones, my 13-year-old daughter helps customers and my 4-year-old son's eating the inventory," he says, laughing.

But while professional athletes can often trade on their celebrity, working grand openings and signing autographs, Neal says, "Don't think your celebrity is going to bring in a lot of revenue."

Irvin Smith, a tight-end from Notre Dame who was drafted by the New Orleans Saints in the first round in 1993, bought into Smoothie King when he was in his second year of playing football.

"I knew football's not going to last forever and Smoothie King was popular in Louisiana. I fell in love with the drinks," he says.

In the off-season he worked the business, but during the season, he hired a friend to manage. He retired from the gridiron at 25.

Smith says he didn't bank on any celebrity status his playing may have earned him. "When you're done playing, you're done," he says. "Your business and who you are, are two different things. People are there to buy drinks," not get an autograph.

And with franchising, you're not always able to open your store in your hometown, or even in the city where you last played. "When we opened in Arizona, we paved the way for Smoothie King out there," he says. At one time he had seven locations, but sold all but three. In 2000, he opened three indoor tanning salons, Tan4Life, but decided not to franchise them. He's also a principal in Primerica Financial Services.

The other sideline

Crawford Ker, who was drafted in 1985 by the Dallas Cowboys and played with several other teams before retiring in Tampa Bay, took the franchisor route.

He opened Ker's WingHouse Bar & Grill in 1994, and now has 19 locations in Florida and Texas. He says he's self-taught in the restaurant business. "It's a 24-7 deal," he says, but he's managed to succeed because like playing football, he's dedicated to his new craft. "Plus I'm also Scottish and I'm stubborn," he says.

Football – which all the players referred to as a business – taught him a lot. "I saw how the coaches conducted business," he says. "A lot of my management style is based on football." He learned discipline, utilizing veteran leadership and innovation from legendary Cowboys Coach Tom Landry. From another notable coach, Jimmy Johnson, he learned to win at all costs and to pay the players well, so you can put the best ones on the field.

Ker says he did consider being a franchisee when he first started thinking about going into business after his football career ended. He looked at McDonald's, but "as a franchisee I would have had to cook burgers for a year (before becoming an owner) and there was bit of an ego there. Now I understand it; I cooked wings for myself for a year."

The problem for athletes retiring young, he says, is that "you have a lot of energy and you're used to structure."

"You've got to get involved in something, unless you want to be on the golf circuit, playing golf and drinking beers," he says.

That may be OK for some players, but not Ker.

Or for Donald Mitchell, a former Tennessee Titan and Dallas Cowboy, who thought he'd do something with informational systems – the area he studied in college – but after six years playing in the NFL, "I wanted to own my own business; call my own shots."

He owns one 7-Eleven and is developing a territory for Pronto Wash, a waterless car wash.

"I'm hands-on; I think you have to be," he says. "I like to know how to do everything," from running the cash register to washing cars.

Like Nate Wayne, Mitchell wishes he had attended something like Iron Mountain Sports' event before getting into franchising.

It's the education players were after – not a hand in their pocket. "There's so much misinformation out there," says Riess, an attorney who presented at the event and walked away with at least five clients. "These are young people with a lot of money in their back pockets, just looking for straight talk."

What the athletes aren't looking for, he adds, is the hard sell. "You can't sell them something," he says. "Everyone's trying to sell them something."

Riess saw this first hand at a dinner he attended where a sponsor ended a pleasant evening by trying to get a commitment from the players.

A player sitting next to Riess leaned over and whispered to him, "don't sell (to) us, show us why we should be passionate about your product or services."

Speaking out

If professional athletes don't want to invest or work a franchise, they can always do special appearances, sign autographs or become spokespeople.

Former Cowboys Quarterback Troy Aikman is in his fifth year as official spokesman for Wingstop, and most likely will be signing on for another three years.

But Andy Howard, executive vice president of marketing, purchasing and R&D, doesn't suggest companies hire just any athlete for that important job.

Aikman had several qualities that made him perfect for Wingstop. One: Although he was retired from football, Aikman was a television sports commentator, so he had a national presence, not just regional. Two: He was a fan of the product.

Aikman was a customer of Wingstop during his playing days, and was the one who suggested his agent return Howard's phone call, the Wingstop exec says.

Aikman attends the Wingstop convention every year, does radio and television commercials, and his likeness will be on a souvenir cup during football season.

"A lot of people think he's an owner of the chain," Howard says, laughing. A perception that's OK with Wingstop.

Eisenberg of Iron Mountain Sports says it's not hard to find a professional athlete in your city to do endorsements. A good way to sign them up is to let them try your pizza or whatever you're selling, he says. The one product athletes shy away from, he adds, is Viagra. "We had a lot of guys turn them down," he says.

Although most of the players at this first event were NFL players – a couple of women also attended – there will be a second one in January for athletes from sports that are out of season, such as baseball, and "retired" athletes looking for their encore job.

Ironic, isn't it? Professional athletes just may become franchising's best cheerleaders