Professional athletes aren’t like you and me. They can run faster, hit harder, and throw farther in their sleep than any weekend warrior playing for the beer league softball championship. In the business world, however, the playing field is level—aside from the legions of fans, million-dollar contracts, and universal name recognition. What makes a professional successful in his or her sport doesn’t easily transfer to the boardroom, which is why the sports pages repeatedly tell tales of former star athletes failing in business and ending up broke. “Sometimes athletes think because they are well-known it will be easy to get any job they want,” says Lisa Delpy Neirotti, director of the Sports Management program at George Washington University, “but they have an advantage if their coaches helped make them independent thinkers and they know how to use their past history to get ahead.” Wealth and fame may not guarantee anything, but there are many athletes out there putting the same energy and drive into building their businesses. And it isn’t just the Magic Johnsons and George Foremans of the world either. Success caught up with a few current and former athletes who are still sweating it out and lighting it up, only now it happens to be in a suit and tie, at least when meeting with investors.
Ryan McNeil: The Gameplanner
Ryan McNeil was an NFL cornerback for 12 seasons, but there was one compliment that he will never forget. “In my second season, Jerry Rice told me ‘you’ve come a long way young fella, ’” he says, “this from the greatest player of all time, a man who made the impossible possible. I didn’t stop smiling for a week.” It wasn’t just Rice’s generosity that thrilled McNeil, but also the validation that he was a professional football player. McNeil’s main rule was no matter how well a guy played against him in the first game, it wasn’t going to happen the second time they met. It all goes back to his fervent adherence to preparation. 
“I’m a planner,” he says, “I hate surprises.” In the middle of his football career, McNeil decided that he wanted to enter the business world. He took it upon himself to seek out—and ask questions of—successful CEOs like Roger Staubach and come up with a gameplan for the future. Upon retiring, he realized the resources for professional athletes weren’t as readily accessible as he had hoped, and therein laid an opportunity. “When the entrepreneurial bug bites, it bites hard,” he says. He decided to start the Professional Business & Financial Network, a membership-based Internet service for professional athletes that provides tools to start and develop businesses and portfolios. PBFN offers a substantial compilation of hard data, strategic partnerships, business opportunities, conferences, and marketing/networking resources. McNeil feels that too many of his peers don’t realize the inherent advantages they have after leaving their chosen fields of play. “Professional athletes need to see themselves as individual corporations,” he says, “after all, most of them make more money than the majority of small businesses.”
As PBFN became established and started to grow, McNeil realized that he needed another medium to reach a wider audience. This self-described “student of the game” spent a year boning up on the magazine industry (editorial lineups, calendars, rate sheets, etc.) and introduced the quarterly custom publication Overtime Magazine in the summer of 2004. Within a short time, OT became part of the professional sports landscape and now reaches a well-heeled audience of 35,000 former and current athletes, agents, financial planners, attorneys, wives, and coaches. Each issue focuses on a variety of topics that cover McNeil’s theme of “a team for life.” A recent issue included articles ranging from tax and retirement tips, a Q&A with Chuck D. of Public Enemy, a travel story on skiing in St. Moritz, a look at how successful marriages are made, and a piece on what makes Terrell Owens tick. In 2007, McNeil plans on opening OT up to general audience subscribers and making it a bimonthly. He’s pleased with the progress. “You have to crawl before you walk, walk before you run, and run before you fly,” he says. For McNeil, it’s all going according to plan.
Brian Jordan: The Overachiever
For some major-leaguers, spring training is a time to work out the kinks after a long layoff devoted to golfing, fishing, or, in the case of Atlanta Braves’ Brian Jordan, juggling. Befitting a man who once did double duty with the Atlanta Falcons (and went about it a bit more modestly than defensive cohort Deion Sanders), Jordan never has an off-season. So you think you’re busy? 
Here is a list of Jordan’s current endeavors: he’s a principal partner in Atlanta’s first billion-dollar real estate project that will eventually have over 1,000 homes costing from $350,000 to $1 million-plus; owner of Century Lofts, with 22 units in the Peachtree Bottom neighborhood; partner in JW Technology, a home-automation company; founder and overseer of the eight-year-old foundation bearing his name; member of numerous boards including 100 Black Men of Atlanta and the Morehouse School of Medicine; a first-time author of the children’s book I Told You I Can Play!; a husband and father of four, ages 4 to 14; and—oh yeah—an outfielder in his fifteenth season in the big leagues. Contrary to rumor though, Jordan is not Superman and there is a simple secret to his success. “Education,” says Jordan, who went back for his senior season at the University of Richmond and got his degree after St. Louis drafted him.
“My mom was a schoolteacher and my father was a steelworker and they were the best role models a man could want because they gave their all,” he says. “I’ve been playing baseball a long time and it’s still truly a blessing to look up in the stands and see them there for me.” Jordan says the only regret he has is losing out on time with his children because he didn’t want to uproot them from the Atlanta school system when he played for the Los Angeles Dodgers and Texas Rangers. “I wish I could have been there as a father, but education always comes first,” he says. Jordan’s future seems assured and he is excited for his burgeoning post-career, er, careers. There is one rule he carries from the playing field to the boardroom: There is no “I” in entrepreneur. “The common theme is teamwork, finding the best people you trust and believe in,” says Jordan. “I’ve always been respected as a clubhouse leader and I’m trying to transition that mentality to a business sense."
Jordan may be on his way to becoming a mini-mogul, but don’t expect him to get all Trumpian on the ATL. His main vision is to expand the Brian Jordan Foundation by building a youth center and expanding the BJ’s Scholars program, which is currently providing college scholarships for five students from disadvantaged backgrounds. “Getting the foundation endowed and leaving that behind as a legacy would put a grin on my face as I ride off into the sunset,” Jordan says with a chuckle, knowing that he still has a few things left to accomplish on his home plate.
Jennifer Azzi: The True Believer
Great point guards aren’t summed up by simple metrics like assists, points, steals, or even triple-doubles. No, the highest compliment a floor general can be paid is that he or she makes their teammates better. It’s a role Jennifer Azzi played brilliantly during a seventeen-year collegiate/professional career that saw her lead Stanford to the 1990 national championship, the USA women’s team to the 1996 Olympic gold medal, and two different WBNA squads to the playoffs. Azzi brings that point guard mentality to her numerous business endeavors, which are all built around the notion that she can help you make yourself better. “It sounds like a cliché, but I like people to walk away from my presentations believing they can have a dream, take chances, and make a difference,” says Azzi. 
After hanging up her high-tops, Azzi formed a Salt Lake City, Utah-based training company bearing her name that offers online personal coaching, adult fitness programs, children’s basketball camps, and wellness days that cover exercise, nutrition, finance, and work-life balance. Along the way, Azzi has written two books and become a sought-after motivational speaker, which fuels her current fire. “I think my life education has brought me to this place, helping people from all backgrounds to live healthier,” she says.
Azzi isn’t just messianic about living right; she is also a believer in the power of residual income. “I look for opportunities that combine my passions with my businesses, so the multiple strains fit into a larger picture,” she says. To that end, Azzi markets and distributes Usana health and nutritional products and has real estate investments. The overall strategy has been developed with the help of many, but she keeps the operations streamlined (and costs down) by working project-to-project with only one other employee. She’s learned on the job, but Azzi has never been afraid to use her stardom to pick other established entrepreneurs’ brains. “We [athletes] are groomed to be told what to do. It’s hard to break out of that mindset and trust yourself as a person,” she says. Azzi’s confidence in and enthusiasm for spreading the self-improvement message is intriguing because when she first started making a name for herself in basketball, female team sports were hardly a blip on the pop culture radar. There was little television coverage and no professional opportunities, so she’s come full-circle as a pioneer in her post-pro-hoops entrepreneurial career. Her business is built on bettering oneself, so she’s thrilled that for girls today, the sky is the limit. “When I talk to little boys now, it’s great because they get it and don’t think anything of girls playing basketball,” says Azzi. “The WNBA has been around as long as they have.”
Franco Harris: The Hometown Hero
Mention the name Franco Harris and most Pittsburgh Steelers fans conjure up images of the four Super Bowl titles, the eight 1,000 yard seasons, the “Immaculate Reception,” and years of Sunday afternoons watching football with Primanti Brothers sandwiches and Iron City beer. Those 1970s teams are as iconic in Pittsburgh as the steel industry itself, so it’s no surprise that he stayed there to start a business after finishing his hall-of-fame career. Raise your Terrible Towel, though, if you guessed his entrepreneurial acclaim would come as a purveyor of a doughnut that’s actually good for you. “Our Super Donut is all-natural and packed with folic acid, vitamins, calcium, and protein,” Harris says, “but none of that matters if it doesn’t taste good. Fortunately, ours is the best.”
Harris had dreamed of owning a business since he was ten years old and was drawn to the food industry after a simultaneous education at Penn State and inspiration at Conti’s, a restaurant near campus.
“Walter Conti valued his people and treated them so well that it was fun to work there. That’s what I knew I wanted,” he says. A few years after retiring from the NFL, Harris decided to start a company that would sell all-natural food products. It evolved into Super Bakery. In the beginning, it was DIY at its best. “It was basically just me,” Harris says. “I loaded and unloaded the trucks, made the deliveries and the sales calls.” It took a little while, but Harris was into nutrition and saw there was an untapped opportunity in baked goods made with organic grains and wholesome ingredients. To keep a low overhead, Harris contracted out the manufacturing so that his time could be spent coming up with healthier formulations. He continues to follow the business model of outsourcing locally while concentrating on branding, finding new markets, and expanding the product line. From the outset, Harris targeted large food service accounts for the military, healthcare providers, and school systems in all fifty states, a niche that took off after his company became the first approved by the USDA to sell nutritionally fortified doughnuts and honey buns. Super Bakery has since added tortillas, muffins, and breads to the mix, and started a company that is rolling out the goodies to grocery stores in Western Pennsylvania.
Primanti Brothers better take heed, because Harris has a plan to get his part of the world to eat better. “The sandwich is a big part of the American diet, so if we can just change the bread it can really make a difference in the health of our country,” he says. Looking out for others is Harris’ way. He funds scholarships for area minority students to study food science at his alma mater and contributes time, money, and food to a variety of charitable events such as the annual fundraising walk for the National Multiple Sclerosis Society. Harris admires and emulates the Rooney family, owners of the Steelers since 1933 and a vital part of the community. "What the Rooneys have done for Pittsburgh means a lot to people around here. It’s a wonderful experience being a part of it,” Harris says before going back to work. In Steelers country, it’s always time to make the doughnuts... healthier.
Frank Masley: The Competitor
In 1976, Frank Masley was at home in Delaware, Md. watching the winter Olympics from Innsbruck, Austria and was thrilled by the luge. Only 16 years old, he decided that he was going to give it a try. He took the $700 he had saved up as a paperboy, enrolled in a three-day beginner’s course at Lake Placid, N.Y. and ended up zipping down the course at 30 to 40 mph. 
He didn’t look back until he was a three-time Olympian hitting 80 mph and one of the best lugers this country ever produced. It’s the same fierce determination that drove Masley to leave a secure corporate job at W.L. Gore & Associates and start his own glove company. “No one in my family was an entrepreneur, but my sports background gave me a core belief that I could become the best,” Masley says. “There’s a strong parallel to luge because I’m fighting to survive.”
He isn’t exaggerating for effect either. Masley Enterprises designs 95% of its gloves for the ultra-competitive military marketplace, which was an entirely different landscape when he founded the company in 2000. Masley targeted the military because he felt it was underserved with outdated equipment, even though colleagues told him that he was crazy to follow that path in peacetime. After 9/11, however, the market was flooded with opportunistic players, many of whom rushed to open plants in the United States to meet government regulations. Unfazed, Masley hasn’t changed course. “I take a lot of pride in being an American company,” he says, “and in a subtle way I feel I served my country as an Olympian, particularly when I carried the flag at the opening ceremony in Sarajevo.”
Masley thrives on competition and so far the company is holding its own. It recently fulfilled an Army contract for 22,000 pairs ofgloves at $79 apiece. The “fuel gloves” feature a breathable, fire-retardant, waterproof shell with a Gore-Tex insert. Masley’s goal is to make the company sustainable by selling 80,000 pairs a year and then he hopes to start another new career as a philanthropist. “I think we can do a lot more for inner-city communities,” he says. “We spend billions on Iraq, and yet the poverty level is $18,000, which goes pretty quick.” Masley has a tinge of regret for not giving the Olympics one more shot—although it was more than offset by being able to provide for his three kids—and may get back into coaching to help America win its first-ever medal in luge. “I was at the top of my game and feeling very comfortable when I retired,” he says. “I know how much people who dedicated their lives to the Olympic movement benefited guys like myself.” Knowing Frank Masley, it’s just one more mountain he will conquer.
(Success, Summer 2006)
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