Show me more than the money

BY SHERYL JAMES

FREE PRESS STAFF WRITER

October 21, 2003

On a cold afternoon last December, Kevin Poston climbed the porch stairs of a modest home in Saginaw and knocked on the front door. Poston, one of the nation's top sports agents, had come to see Charles Rogers, then one of the nation's top college football players.

It was, in some ways, another of many meetings between Poston and high-profile athletes –LaVar Arrington, Charles Woodson, Lawyer Milloy, and Julian Peterson --who soon became clients of Professional Sports Planning Inc. That is the company owned by Kevin Poston and his brother Carl, who also stood on the porch that day.

But this meeting was a little different.

Poston, from Farmington Hills, was no stranger to this neighborhood.  He would not have been surprised, for instance, to witness a robbery, maybe a small-time drug deal. This was not just Saginaw, nor was it South Saginaw; that was a different section nearby. 

No, this was the South End of Sagnasty. That's what people there called the neighborhood and the town. This was an area of, yes, many  modest but well-kept homes where nice people tried hard to live nice lives.

But it was also a place of trashed houses, broken lives, urban ills such as drug dealing and larceny.

Yeah, Poston knew the place all right.

He was born there.

He knocked on the door again. It swung open. There stood Charles Rogers.

Success from Sagnasty

Charles Rogers, then a 21-year-old Michigan State wide receiver, had heard about ihese guys, the Poston brothers. He knew certain, important things about them: One, they were from Saginaw. More than that, they were from the South End --at least originally --and now they were successful. Rogers knew how hard that was for a Sagnasty man, especially a black Sagnasty man.

Rogers also knew the Postons had some impressive clients: Penny Hardaway, Ty Law, Orlando Pace.

As he considered going pro after his junior season, folks had offered a lot of advice about agents: Call Leigh Steinberg, they said, or IMG or Octagon, "some big names," Rogers said. "Nobody said I should call the Postons."

But Rogers knew what he knew. And the Postons were near-legend in Saginaw.

"They got some of the best of the best," he said, "so they must be doing something right. So I was just thinking on my own, not going on what anybody else said."

So when Kevin Poston called, Rogers invited him to his house.

Role playing

Actually, it was not Rogers' house in the sense that either of his parents, Cathy Rogers and Charles Brown, lived there. Poston picked that up soon enough. He picked up other things as he stepped into the home. He saw an elderly man --at least in his 70s, Poston guessed. Rogers introduced him: Benjamin Rogers, his grandfather. Poston saw instantly that this grandfather had reared Charles. He also saw order in the house and authority in Benjamin Rogers.

"I knew he was the man of that house," Poston said. "I knew the respect Charles had for him. You could see that."

As the Postons launched into their presentation --placing papers on the floor of the living room --Benjamin Rogers said little, but he was listening.

"And I could see that he was listening," Kevin Poston said. "I suspected he would give his opinion of my brother and I to Charles after the meeting. Usually these kinds of men can look in your eyes and tell if you're full of it."

That did not intimidate Poston. It impressed him.

For his part, Charles Rogers liked how straight the Postons were. They didn't "sugarcoat" anything, he said. He sensed Kevin Poston was loyal, a man of his word.

"One thing about him, me and him are going to go through a lot of ups and downs together," Rogers said. "I think he's always going to walk down that dark alley with me. In the end, he'll be there."

How prescient Rogers was. About two weeks later, Benjamin Rogers died. The man Charles Rogers had always admired, counted on, was gone.

Another man was, in many ways, about to replace him.

How to live, not how to play

All Professional Sports Planning clients receive something called "The PSP Creed." The long statement, written by Kevin Poston, never mentions sports. It describes what real men are --what PSP men should be: men who work, men who stand for something, men who are loyal. Real men don't run away, and they settle differences with words, not fists. They respect women. They cry not because they are babies but because they are warriors and "warriors have heart."

The document reflects its writer. Poston, 44, cuts his life and his work from the same cloth: that of strong families and strong men.

Yes, he works out of his 3,700-square-foot home in Farmington Hills. Yes, he has expensive cars and his children attend private schools.

But all that, you can lose. Family and faith are the real treasures, he said. These priorities play out in the photographs in Poston's office, located just to the right of his foyer. (Carl Poston operates out of Houston; the brothers phone, fax and e-mail constantly.) There is Coach Poston smiling with a bunch of peewee basketball players, including his son; there he is again with peewee football players, including his son. There are pictures of babies, his father and his ancestors.

In his basement is an extraordinary 9-by-4-foot display of his ancestors --36 elaborately labeled photographs, many of them extremely old. One is of his great-grandfather. He was a former slave who signed his name with an X, but he was a savvy, wealthy businessman, Poston said.

"I come from a long line of warriors," he said, "and I want them to be proud of us."

The rest of Poston's office documents his other warriors --his clients. There are helmets, jerseys, sports magazine covers, trophies. On the wall is a framed Orlando Magic No.1 basketball jersey with Penny Hardaway's signature. A photo of Charles Woodson reads: "To K.P., PSP 100%." In a glass case, four shelves hold mementos such as a Li'l Penny doll, a Nike basketball, a Bisquick box signed by SI. Louis offensive tackle Orlando Pace --a joke, Poston said. "'Cause that's what you look like when he gets through with you."

He chuckles, gazing at the case. "Lotta stuff. Lotta memories."

Stability and love

The memories go way back to Saginaw, 1959, when Poston was born, the third of four boys. His parents had moved from Detroit in 1955. They bought a small house on Grant Street --two blocks from the home where Rogers and Poston met almost a year ago.

Carl Poston Jr. was a lawyer. (His wife, Thelma, later established a real estate agency.) It was not long before the Postons moved to a nicer neighborhood in South Saginaw. They were the first blacks to move into that area.

So the Poston brothers knew stability and love. They had two parents, they had financial security. There were no divorces, drugs and certainly no verbal disagreements with the elder Pas tons, strong role models.

"My father was Hercules to me," Kevin Poston said. "He made me the man I am."

He is equally open about his love for his mother. Both parents still reside in Saginaw.

The PSP calling

Still, Poston said, there was no escaping life as a black youth in Saginaw. Poston went to Saginaw High, where he played lots of sports. He could have pursued college athletics. But his family always had stressed academics.

Show me more than money

In 1981, Poston earned a BA in business administration from Fisk University in Nashville, Tenn. In 1985, he earned a law degree from the Thurgood Marshall School of Law at Texas Southern in Houston.

By the early '90s, he was a partner and shareholder with Miro, Miro & Weiner, located in Bloomfield Hills and New York. He specialized in real estate law. He married his wife, Kathy, in 1984 and has three children, Alexx, 16, Garrison, 13, and Myles, 10.

Carl Poston, 48, also became a lawyer and has worked for a large Los Angeles law firm and an international holding company. He is married with three children.

The Postons first considered sports representation in the 1980s. They maneuvered their lives so that by 1995, they had PSP up and running. It was like jumping off a cliff, Kevin Poston said. Sports representation is a brutal business.

"We were about as naive as you come," Poston said. "We were like nerds. We had suits on and we were shaking hands, giving guys our card and then we'd see it in the trash can about two hours later. So we started from scratch.

"One guy said, 'Man, you're gonna stop what you're doing as a member of a successful law firm to deal with some fickle athletes? Are you crazy?' "

It was kind of a calling, really. The Postons say a major motivation was seeing so many pro players retire broke. NFL, Poston said, stands for "Not For Long." Careers can be cut short. There was more to sports than contracts, and the Postons thought they were well trained to handle investments and other issues. Most clients are between 17 and 25, Poston said. They need all kinds of help --and they don't always know that.

"That's when you can't tell them anything," he said. "So I have to watch them go through the process. I have to make sure there are not major problems. They're going to buy a car. Mama's going to get a nice house. There's nothing wrong with that. But here's the thing: It better make economic sense. That's where the planning comes in.”

But, always, there is the parenting.

"Eighty-five percent of the guys I represent don't have a father," Poston said. "You wonder why I'm a father figure to a lot of them.

"I'm real with them. I say, 'You got the Heisman, college player of the year, whatever. But guess what you gotta do tomorrow? You've got to be a man. What's being a man? How you raise your family. How you deal with your wife, your girlfriend, your mother.' "

At the negotiating table, though, the Postons are more like piranhas than parents --as their critics might say. Over time, they have positioned themselves into the top echelon of sports agents. They are one of only five football agencies to get top draft selections regularly since 1995, according to a 2002 CBS Sportsline.com report. They have about 50 clients; seven were Pro Bowl football players last season.

Some say the Postons are holdouts agents --advising clients to boycott training camp for better contracts. Others say the Postons are just doing their jobs. Most agree they do their homework; there are no end-runs around them during negotiations.

"Tough, but fair," said John Gabriel, general manager of the Orlando Magic.

"These are top-end guys," said John McVay, vice president of football operations for the San Francisco 4gers. "They're very thorough, very professional."

Bruce Allen, senior assistant for Al Davis, owner of the Oakland Raiders, has negotiated contracts for Poston clients Anthony Dorsett, Cecil Martin and Marcus Knight. He never has had holdout problems, he said.

"They've always been straightforward and honest in every dealing I've ever had with them," Allen said. "They've done some landmark contracts they deserve credit for; they've got some very high-profile contracts. There's no doubt that they will do what is necessary to protect their client."

"They do have a reputation in the league of holding out their clients," said Mark Levin, director of salary cap and agent administration for the NFL Players Association. "But they're by far not the only ones who have that reputation. And a lot of times, holding out their client before the time is right is 100 percent in the client's interest. You don't want your agent rolling over on the first offer."

Kevin Poston said simply: "I am a tough negotiator, but I'm just doing my job and I'm fair."

Some recent examples: Days before the season began, the New England Patriots released Pro Bowl safety and team captain Lawyer Milloy, a Poston client. In a highly visible and somewhat controversial move, the Postons got Milloy a $15-million, four-year contract with the Buffalo Bills within two days. Talk was the Postons violated some rules. Kevin Poston said they didn't. The end result: They were the talk of the NFL all week.

Rogers, an All-America at Michigan State, got a six-year contract from the Lions worth up to $54.6 million, including incentives. Included was a $14.4-million signing bonus. It is one of the largest rookie contracts in NFL history. (Sports agencies receive up to 3 percent of these contract amounts; the Postons decline to be specific about their earnings.)

Rogers naturally likes his contract. But most often he mentions the paternal aspect of Professional Sports Planning. Last summer, before training camp, Rogers sometimes showed up at Kevin Poston's front door. They talked a lot about life, about responsibilities, about ups and downs.

Poston, Rogers said, "always has you thinking. He's smart. If I'm doing something wrong, he'll let me know. He's not like sitting there going, 'Yes, yes, yes, yes.' " His favorite Poston advice: "You need these three things in life: You got to stay hungry, you got to be honest, and you got to be humble."

When PSP held its annual company meeting in New Orleans in July, Rogers felt compelled to say something. He stood up, young, string bean-thin, soft-spoken.

''I'm happy to be at PSP," he said. "I really feel the love that's coming in this room. One thing about it, I really had no father figure, my grandfather was everything, so I lost my grandfather in the middle of the season. Sometimes I can get a little wild, but one thing about it, Kevin and Carl, I learn something every day. Every time I talk to Kevin, I learn something positive. I learn to be a better person. I just want to say, y'all like family. You're everything. So, that's what I want to say."

All of this would have meant little if Poston failed to live his own advice. Rogers can see that he does. Case in point: The Lions' opener, Ford Field, Sept. 7. Rogers was making his NFL debut --a debut that would include two touchdown receptions.
At the same time, there was Kevin Poston, on the sidelines, yelling, waving, coaxing. It was one of the few times Poston, known for being calm, quiet and private, looked nervous.

And he was nowhere near Ford Field.

He was on the sidelines of his 10-year-old son's football game in Farmington Hills. His high-profile client's debut was waiting for him at Ford Field, but Poston chose to be with his son that day.

He did make the second half of the Lions' game, though --with his sons. After the game, he met Rogers after the rookie left the locker room. The two men briefly embraced.

"Kevin! They're talkin' about the one pass I missed! I got two touchdowns!" Rogers said.

"Don't worry about it," Poston said. "You got to go through it." Then Poston grinned at his client. "Your first two catches were touchdowns!"

Watching over

As the Lions practiced Oct. 7 in Allen Park, Rogers suffered a broken collarbone. He will be out for several weeks at least. Great contracts and great catches, deaths and injuries, ups and downs. As Poston has said to many young superstars: "When you start thinking you're the man, life will show you otherwise. Kevin Poston doesn't have to."

Poston got word of Rogers' injury on his return flight from Tampa, where he had watched a client, Michael Doss, a safety for the Indianapolis Colts, play the Tampa Bay Buccaneers on "Monday Night Football." Doss had made a spectacular interception --only to make a spectacular fumble seconds later.

He was distraught. He was, like Rogers, a rookie. So Poston found himself comforting two rookies within 12 hours.

"A rookie sees it as a rookie sees it," Poston said. "1 said to Doss, 'Don't worry about it. Play the game. Work hard. Play hard. Learn from anything you need to learn from.' "

He called Rogers as soon as his plane landed in Detroit.

"He wasn't happy," Poston said. "1 told him, 'You need to relax, stay home.' He's in a lot of pain, sleeping in a chair. I talk to him all the time."

Rogers lives in a nice Birmingham condominium. Poston keeps an eye on him --and on those trying to position themselves into Rogers' life. Such people can siphon a player's resources.

Rogers understands this is part of Poston's service not mentioned in the contract, the intangible stuff --the kind of stuff his grandfather might have done. Slap him upside the head every so often. It's a trust thing. A real man thing.

Two days after his injury, Rogers gave Poston a Charles Rogers bobblehead and a No. 80 Lions jersey, tokens of appreciation. His note read: "To the Postons, my family through thick and thin! Charles Rogers, No. 80."

"I already know where this is going in my house," Poston said.