Who’s Guarding The Hen House? Promoters Vs Managers

By Charley “Two-Time” Sung

“So you’re a boxing promoter?” If I had a dime for every time I have been asked that question . . . . Nope. I’m a manager. Understandably, the distinction between promoters and managers is often misunderstood by the general public. Unfortunately, the lines are often blurred within the boxing industry itself. As a result, all too often, you have foxes guarding the hen house when promoters double as managers. Ultimately, it is the boxers who have their feathers plucked.

So let’s get it straight. Managers are hired by boxers to set up fights, review contracts, negotiate purses (i.e., the fighter’s compensation for fighting), and to generally guide a boxer’s career. Those are the official roles. Unofficially, a manger is tasked with working out the boxer’s personal affairs, keeping the boxer off the streets and in the gym, and perhaps mentoring the boxer in the world outside of the ring.

During my years as a boxing manager, I have had my share of late night emergency calls. I have paid for abortions, helped make child support payments, signed leases, and have even called in favors with criminal defense attorney friends to go to bat for my boxers in court. A boxer’s contract with a manager is usually for a five-year term and, as compensation, the manager usually collects one-third of everything that the boxer earns during the term of the contract. Importantly, a manager only makes money if the boxer makes money. The manager, therefore, wants – needs – the boxer to win fights, succeed and flourish. Thus, the interests of the manager are directly aligned with those of the boxer.

By contrast, a promoter is someone who arranges for boxing shows to take place. A boxer is to a promoter what Jimi Hendrix was to the organizers of Woodstock. The promoter finds and rents the venue, makes contracts with the various boxers who will participate in the show, organizes and pays for the ring doctor, referees, judges, ring card girls, lighting, concession stand, etc. In doing all of this, the promoter pays for all of the expenses in putting the show together and takes on the heavy burden of all of the financial risk associated with the endeavor. Unsurprisingly, the largest expense incurred by a promoter in putting on a show is usually the purses paid to the boxers. The promoter’s compensation for doing all of this? The promoter gets to keep all of the revenue generated from the show minus all of the expenses. The promoter, therefore, wants to pay the boxer as little as possible to try to minimize his expenses and, thereby, increase his profits. Thus, the interests of the promoter, for the most part, are directly at odds with those of the boxer (and those of the manager, for that matter).

As you can see, while both managers and promoters play vital roles in the career of a boxer, the distinction between the two is an important one that must be tightly guarded. When that distinction is blurred, it usually means trouble for the boxer. Prime example – Mike Tyson and his former promoter Don King. After “Iron” Mike was released from prison in 1995, he earned over $140 million during his next six fights. According to the lawsuit later filed by Tyson against Don King, it was alleged that King misappropriated $45 million of that money. How did he do that? Tyson’s promotional contract with King contained provisions requiring Tyson to pay “consulting fees” to King’s wife, son, daughter and son in law. It also contained provisions that required Tyson to pay for King’s travel expenses and lavish living. According to the lawsuit, in total King defrauded Tyson out of over $100 million during the course of Tyson’s career. “Only in America.” But how did King really do that? King was able to pluck Tyson’s feathers by taking advantage of Tyson’s inability to read and fully understand business contracts and by convincing Tyson to entrust him with complete control over Tyson’s business and financial interests.

It is no secret that boxing is a poor man’s sport. Most boxers are uneducated and come from impoverished backgrounds. This lack of education and business experience makes boxers susceptible to exploitation by promoters and others. All of the other major sports in the United States are overseen by independent governing bodies (i.e., MLB, NBA, NFL and NHL) and have players’ unions that ensure that such exploitation does not take place. However, boxing is unique in that it is not governed by any league, association, or any form of an established organization. It is the Wild Wild West of sports – it is a free-for-all with boxers more or less left to fend for themselves and hope to achieve success (or, in most cases, just put food on the table).

Recognizing this, Congress enacted the Professional Boxing Safety Act in 1996. Four years later, that law was augmented by the Muhammad Ali Boxing Reform Act. These two pieces of legislation, taken together, are commonly referred to as the “Ali Act.” The goal of the Ali Act was threefold: (1) to protect the rights and welfare of boxers; (2) to aid state boxing commissions with the oversight of boxing; and (3) increase sportsmanship and integrity within the boxing industry. Through the passage of the Ali Act, boxing got the unflattering distinction of being the only sport in the United States that is regulated by the federal government. Essentially, the federal government said “if you can’t regulate yourselves like all of the other sports do, we will have to do it for you.”

Among other things, the Ali Act prohibits a promoter from promoting and managing a boxer at the same time. Conversely, it also prohibits a manager from promoting or having any financial interest in the promotion of his fighter. Problem solved, right? Not really. While the Ali Act is clear in its prohibitions, it is difficult to enforce and is rarely, if ever, enforced. The Ali Act is like that beautiful treadmill that you bought on Black Friday with good intentions that is sitting in your living room and used as a coat hanger. That’s because most boxing contracts are still usually back-room deals and the majority of boxing shows are not the ones you see on TV but rather what they refer to as “club shows” that take place in local bingo halls or the ballroom at the Best Western. Contracts and deals between promoters, boxers and managers simply fly under the radar.

As a result, flagrant violations of the proscriptions of the Ali Act are not uncommon. It is widely known that promoters sometimes circumvent the Ali Act by having boxers they promote sign management contracts with the relatives or friends of the promoter. More often than not, this “straw person” manager’s loyalty will lie with the promoter rather than with the boxer. Feathers plucked. Other times, promoters outright blatantly violate the Ali Act by managing a boxer and featuring that same boxer on his shows. After all, what are the consequences? Federal authorities are not going to be busting into the ballroom at the Best Western any time soon to break up this racket. And the boxer is none the wiser – he is just trying to make a living. More feathers plucked.

Someone once told me that if you’re not sitting at the dinner table, you’re probably on the menu. Wide-eyed young boxing talent are sometimes paraded around by their promoters in fancy cars and given glimpses of the privileged life that they may have never before seen. Promises are made of wealth and fame – “trust me, just sign on the dotted line.” I would caution those young boxers to learn how the circus of boxing works and understand the players and their respective roles and motivations. And it is a circus, sans the clowns – it is disjointed, under-regulated and, often times, corrupt. A boxer, whose only training is to punch people in the face, needs to seek out a competent manager that he can trust. A manager who has the boxer’s best interest at heart may be the only levy holding back a tide of sharks. Otherwise, the boxer may end up featherless and on a roasting pan.

As a postscript, I will note that the overwhelming majority of promoters I have worked with during my years as a manager have been outstanding professionals with unquestionable integrity. But what’s the fun in writing about the good ones? The bad ones make for better reading.

[si-contact-form form=’2′]