The sad tale of Ray Williams: 10-year NBA vet now homeless
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The sad tale of Ray Williams: 10-year NBA vet now homeless
By Dan Devine
Amid the ceaseless acquisitive frenzy that is NBA free agency, the Boston Globe dropped a harrowing profile of Ray Williams, a former captain of the New York Knicks and a reserve guard on the Boston Celtics' 1985 NBA Finals team who played for six teams during a 10-year NBA career from the late '70s through the mid-'80s. Williams' name might not ring out with today's fans, but he averaged 20 points per game in two different seasons (1979-80 and 1981-82), hung 52 on the Detroit Pistons as a member of the New Jersey Nets on April 17, 1982, and once drew (admittedly aspirational) comparisons to the great Walt Frazier.
Now, writes the Globe's Bob Hohler, he's homeless.
Every night at bedtime, former Celtic Ray Williams locks the doors of his home: a broken-down 1992 Buick, rusting on a back street where he ran out of everything.
The 10-year NBA veteran formerly known as "Sugar Ray'' leans back in the driver's seat, drapes his legs over the center console, and rests his head on a pillow of tattered towels. He tunes his boom box to gospel music, closes his eyes, and wonders.
Williams, a generation removed from staying in first-class hotels with Larry Bird and Co. in their drive to the 1985 NBA Finals, mostly wonders how much more he can bear.
The most sobering thing about Hohler's piece? Williams' decline into unemployment, poverty and homelessness appears to have just kind of ... happened.
Williams, a former University of Minnesota standout who averaged 15.5 points and nearly six assists per game during his time in the league, adamantly tells Hohler that he's "never fallen prey to drugs, alcohol, or gambling," and he's never been arrested, so it's not like he's some shiftless sociopath whom we can easily vilify. According to the feature, there wasn't one key traumatic event that keyed Williams' downfall, with one possible exception — already down on his luck, Williams received a grant from the NBA Legends Foundation, which provides need-based assistance to people who have been involved in the pro game. But according to court records, Hohler writes, "he lost the money ... when the widow of a condominium owner who agreed to a lease-to-own contract with Williams opted out of the contract after the owner died." Which sounds like a horrendously bad break that exacerbated an already ugly situation.
It doesn't sound like a case of over-the-top avarice, either; while Hohler notes that Williams was "no longer able to sustain his NBA lifestyle" when he first filed for bankruptcy in 1994, he doesn't mention any particularly conspicuous consumption or extravagant expenditures. As the story goes, Williams just hasn't been able to hang on to any of a slew of off-court jobs over the course of the 23 years since he retired in 1987. Now, he's got nothing except the '92 Buick he sleeps in and a '97 Chevy Tahoe that he can't get out of hock.
There's no prime mover behind the disintegration, no obvious flaw in the system against which to rage. Like any story of slipping through the cracks in American society, that makes it harder to digest, compartmentalize and set aside.
Maybe NBA players of today, who make exponentially more money than their predecessors before ever stepping on the court, do owe a fiscal debt to the players who came before; then again, maybe Williams bears the blame because he blew the roughly $2 million he made in contracts during his career. Maybe Williams' family, former friends and associates merit some scorn for allowing him to live alone in a car in Florida; then again, maybe they've all had to distance themselves from Williams after 20-plus years of never getting his stuff together and failing to repay repeated loans, favors and kindnesses.
Maybe agencies like the Legends Foundation and the NBA Retired Players Association need to do more to help people like Williams; then again, maybe they've already done enough, having given him grants totaling more than $12,000. Maybe his coaches, teachers and mentors failed him, setting him to serve as one more awful example of how, when it comes to young basketball players, the only training and skill development that anybody really cares about takes place on the hardwood. Then again, maybe "Society's to blame" is a red herring that divests the downtrodden of personal responsibility.
Whichever way your sympathies run, the story of how Ray Williams' life fell apart should serve as a cautionary tale for athletes of the imperative to prepare for life after the game — and, frankly, a jarring reminder to all of us that we should appreciate what we're lucky enough to have while we're lucky enough to have it.
Related: Boston Celtics, Detroit Pistons, New Jersey Nets, New York Knicks
By Dan Devine
Amid the ceaseless acquisitive frenzy that is NBA free agency, the Boston Globe dropped a harrowing profile of Ray Williams, a former captain of the New York Knicks and a reserve guard on the Boston Celtics' 1985 NBA Finals team who played for six teams during a 10-year NBA career from the late '70s through the mid-'80s. Williams' name might not ring out with today's fans, but he averaged 20 points per game in two different seasons (1979-80 and 1981-82), hung 52 on the Detroit Pistons as a member of the New Jersey Nets on April 17, 1982, and once drew (admittedly aspirational) comparisons to the great Walt Frazier.
Now, writes the Globe's Bob Hohler, he's homeless.
Every night at bedtime, former Celtic Ray Williams locks the doors of his home: a broken-down 1992 Buick, rusting on a back street where he ran out of everything.
The 10-year NBA veteran formerly known as "Sugar Ray'' leans back in the driver's seat, drapes his legs over the center console, and rests his head on a pillow of tattered towels. He tunes his boom box to gospel music, closes his eyes, and wonders.
Williams, a generation removed from staying in first-class hotels with Larry Bird and Co. in their drive to the 1985 NBA Finals, mostly wonders how much more he can bear.
The most sobering thing about Hohler's piece? Williams' decline into unemployment, poverty and homelessness appears to have just kind of ... happened.
Williams, a former University of Minnesota standout who averaged 15.5 points and nearly six assists per game during his time in the league, adamantly tells Hohler that he's "never fallen prey to drugs, alcohol, or gambling," and he's never been arrested, so it's not like he's some shiftless sociopath whom we can easily vilify. According to the feature, there wasn't one key traumatic event that keyed Williams' downfall, with one possible exception — already down on his luck, Williams received a grant from the NBA Legends Foundation, which provides need-based assistance to people who have been involved in the pro game. But according to court records, Hohler writes, "he lost the money ... when the widow of a condominium owner who agreed to a lease-to-own contract with Williams opted out of the contract after the owner died." Which sounds like a horrendously bad break that exacerbated an already ugly situation.
It doesn't sound like a case of over-the-top avarice, either; while Hohler notes that Williams was "no longer able to sustain his NBA lifestyle" when he first filed for bankruptcy in 1994, he doesn't mention any particularly conspicuous consumption or extravagant expenditures. As the story goes, Williams just hasn't been able to hang on to any of a slew of off-court jobs over the course of the 23 years since he retired in 1987. Now, he's got nothing except the '92 Buick he sleeps in and a '97 Chevy Tahoe that he can't get out of hock.
There's no prime mover behind the disintegration, no obvious flaw in the system against which to rage. Like any story of slipping through the cracks in American society, that makes it harder to digest, compartmentalize and set aside.
Maybe NBA players of today, who make exponentially more money than their predecessors before ever stepping on the court, do owe a fiscal debt to the players who came before; then again, maybe Williams bears the blame because he blew the roughly $2 million he made in contracts during his career. Maybe Williams' family, former friends and associates merit some scorn for allowing him to live alone in a car in Florida; then again, maybe they've all had to distance themselves from Williams after 20-plus years of never getting his stuff together and failing to repay repeated loans, favors and kindnesses.
Maybe agencies like the Legends Foundation and the NBA Retired Players Association need to do more to help people like Williams; then again, maybe they've already done enough, having given him grants totaling more than $12,000. Maybe his coaches, teachers and mentors failed him, setting him to serve as one more awful example of how, when it comes to young basketball players, the only training and skill development that anybody really cares about takes place on the hardwood. Then again, maybe "Society's to blame" is a red herring that divests the downtrodden of personal responsibility.
Whichever way your sympathies run, the story of how Ray Williams' life fell apart should serve as a cautionary tale for athletes of the imperative to prepare for life after the game — and, frankly, a jarring reminder to all of us that we should appreciate what we're lucky enough to have while we're lucky enough to have it.
Related: Boston Celtics, Detroit Pistons, New Jersey Nets, New York Knicks
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Comments
<< <i>[M]aybe Williams bears the blame because he blew the roughly $2 million he made in contracts during his career. >>
Gee, ya think?
<< <i>Guess he's the J.R. Richard of hoops, eh? >>
???
JR Richard suffered a career ending stroke at the age of 30.
However, because this was posted, I think folks are entitled to alittle more information...
What was he paid over those ten years? What efforts were made to save money for the future? And I could go on and on and I choose not to because it is likely he made more money than I ever dreamed of making.
Experience the World through Numismatics...it's more than you can imagine.
Actually, it's not nearly as much as you'd think at least compared to today's NBA salaries. Williams was awarded a 4-year 500K contract as a first round draft pick...today's players make more than 125K per season in meal money, LOL..
Collecting 1970s Topps baseball wax, rack and cello packs, as well as PCGS graded Half Cents, Large Cents, Two Cent pieces and Three Cent Silver pieces.
Doug
Liquidating my collection for the 3rd and final time. Time for others to enjoy what I have enjoyed over the last several decades. Money could be put to better use.
This is from Wikipedia:
After playing in the NBA for three seasons a player is vested for a pension. The pension pays $306 for every month in the NBA (e.g. Gary Payton played in the NBA for 17 seasons or 204 months. 204x306=62,424. Gary Payton's pension will be $62,424 per year or $5,202 per month. A player with only three years in the NBA would get $11, 016 per year or $918 per month.) Players start collecting the pension at the age of 50. A player can opt to collect the pension at the age of 45 but only two-thirds of what it would be at 50.
Where is his pension? 10 yrs x 12 months x $306 = $36,720 or over $3k per month. Why is he homeless? That's not living large, but it puts a roof over your head.
Bosox1976
Collecting 1970s Topps baseball wax, rack and cello packs, as well as PCGS graded Half Cents, Large Cents, Two Cent pieces and Three Cent Silver pieces.
<< <i>"he lost the money ... when the widow of a condominium owner who agreed to a lease-to-own contract with Williams opted out of the contract after the owner died." >>
I can think of several scenarios but none of them would apply here. Like, he did a lease to own, Seller died, and then he decided not to buy? So he lost all of his money by spending it on rent?
That's not bad luck, it's a bad business decision.
Maybe I'm wrong but it sounds like he wants to get paid for not working.
But his production declined after the deal expired, and he retired in ’87 without a college degree or professional skill.
No longer able to sustain his NBA lifestyle, he worked for a couple of years as a substitute teacher.
REALLY? He was a substitute teacher WITHOUT a college degree?
To answer a question about his pension posed above ... here is another excerpt from the article:
He has no health insurance or car insurance. And he already has tapped his NBA pension, he said. I guess he DID go to some sort of structured settlement company and sold his pension.
Doug
Liquidating my collection for the 3rd and final time. Time for others to enjoy what I have enjoyed over the last several decades. Money could be put to better use.
Collecting 1970s Topps baseball wax, rack and cello packs, as well as PCGS graded Half Cents, Large Cents, Two Cent pieces and Three Cent Silver pieces.