What Koenning said is what I've been thinking all along...

Rules complicate helping McElrathbeys
Offers pour in for brothers, but NCAA regulations make Clemson cautious

BY LARRY WILLIAMS
The Post and Courier

CLEMSON - An unrelenting deluge of calls and e-mails has poured into Clemson's compliance office - not to mention the football office, IPTAY office and athletic department headquarters.

Since Saturday's story on Ray Ray McElrathbey ran in The Post and Courier, many people are wondering how they can help the Clemson football player as he tries to care for his 11-year-old brother Fahmarr.

Because of NCAA rules that restrict the ability of college athletes to receive financial assistance from most of the outside world, Clemson is treading cautiously as it tries to navigate a complex and potentially dangerous issue.

As of Tuesday afternoon, the athletic department was looking into whether a trust fund could be set up to help 19-year-old Ray Ray provide for his brother. But Clemson was still struggling to find a firm answer for people whose compassion and generosity has been tapped.

"We need to answer the questions," said Clemson athletic director Terry Don Phillips. "It's a tough situation."

Ray Ray has received temporary custody of Fahmarr (pronounced FAY-mar) from his mother, an Atlanta resident who said she has struggled with crack cocaine for more than a decade. Fahmarr has lived in Clemson since late June, and last week he attended his first day at R.C. Edwards Middle School.

The brothers are in the process of moving into a townhouse, and Ray Ray said he plans to subsist financially with a stipend he receives for living off-campus, Pell grants, and money he can make performing the occasional odd job.

The NCAA has strict rules against supporters of a particular athletic program - the NCAA uses the term "boosters" - providing "extra benefits" to athletes in that program. Extra benefits can mean money, the use of a car or any other assistance that someone might not otherwise receive if he or she were not an athlete.

Fahmarr, a sixth-grader, attends R.C. Edwards with children of Clemson assistant coaches. But any ride he receives from those coaches or their wives could be interpreted as an extra benefit for Ray Ray. Vic Koenning, Clemson's defensive coordinator, said he lives near Fahmarr's school and could help provide transportation if not for the rules.

"It's not fair," Koenning said. "I know we have to abide by the rules and everything. But someone in a similar situation not involved with the NCAA can get all the help they want. And in all laws and rules, there are extenuating circumstances."

The rules against support from non-boosters is not as explicit, but the NCAA can scrutinize assistance provided to athletes from anyone other than immediate family members. The NCAA could cite Clemson for a violation and declare McElrathbey ineligible if it deems any sort of benefit improper.

"We've received not only calls from Clemson fans, but South Carolina fans as well," said Stephanie Ellison, Clemson's director of compliance. "People from The Citadel have called wanting to help. It's not just a Clemson thing. This story is reaching out to everyone. ... But we're trying to protect his eligibility."

Clemson's compliance department has looked into several options. Ellison said Tuesday she was working with the Atlantic Coast Conference to determine the propriety of a trust fund that could benefit Fahmarr.

In that scenario, a fund would be administered specifically for the support of Fahmarr while keeping Ray Ray from using funds for his own benefit. The funds could assist Ray Ray by accounting for Fahmarr's share of rent, grocery money and other necessities.

"A fund would be the safest thing, because that could be administered independently," Phillips said. "Ray Ray would not be administering the funds."

If that approach is ruled out, Ellison said Clemson will seek a waiver from the NCAA that would allow Clemson to take in donations and allocate them to benefit Fahmarr.

Initially, Clemson considered allowing money to be donated to Ray Ray's church and then directed toward the brothers. That approach has been nixed because Clemson would have little ability to monitor who donates and how those funds are disbursed, Ellison said.

Tigers offensive coordinator Rob Spence and his wife have expressed interest in becoming Fahmarr's foster parents, but Ellison said that would also be considered an extra benefit.

Ray Ray said it's discouraging to know that so many people who are willing to help are unable to help - at least for the time being. "It is disappointing in some ways, because there's so many people. It's not often you've got a whole bunch of people going for a good cause."

Said Koenning: "We've got to be able to help those guys, or neither one of them is going to survive."

Reach Larry Williams atlwilliams@postandcourier.com.

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Aug 23, 2006, 10:36 AM

He ain't heavy,he's his little brother
Clemson football player to get custody of his sibling

BY LARRY WILLIAMS
The Post and Courier

CLEMSON - Ramon McElrathbey wasn't feeling very merry on Christmas morning.

Clemson's football team was at a plush resort in Orlando, where the Tigers were preparing for their 2005 bowl game against Colorado. McElrathbey looked around and saw coaches and teammates with their families, exchanging gifts and love. He broke down crying at the realization that, amid the luxury and the holiday cheer and the camaraderie with friends, he ultimately had nothing.

No family. No gifts. Nothing.

"I was at a nice place in Orlando and shouldn't have had a worry in the world," he said. "And I knew things weren't going great with my family. So it got to me. I couldn't take it."

It's impossible for McElrathbey, a 19-year-old cornerback who is referred to as "Ray Ray," to erase a lifetime of heartache and heartbreak brought on by his parents' predilections for drugs and gambling. But he is determined to do what he can, and right now that means taking custody of his 11-year-old brother Fahmarr while also shouldering a difficult workload at school and on the field.

Story of survival

"The amazing thing about Ray Ray is you'd never know he's got all that crap going on," said Clemson assistant coach Burton Burns, who recruited McElrathbey. "I can see him down sometimes, and he gets shaken up for a little while, but he recovers really well.

"One day I asked him, 'How are you doing all this?' "

The same thought occurs to everyone who becomes acquainted with McElrathbey and a story that's just as miraculous as it is tragic. They wonder how a child who grew up on the streets of Atlanta managed to survive and blossom from the cracks of destitution and despair.

"Athletes are put on such a high pedestal," said Clemson assistant athletic director Jeff Davis, who has become one of McElrathbey's many mentors. "Sometimes we forget that their life journey may not match up with their athletic journey. Just by being around him, you'd never know the obstacles he's faced in his life."

Like his seven siblings ages 6 through 23, McElrathbey spent most of his childhood bouncing around foster homes, living with coaches and suffering repeated disappointments when his parents couldn't stay straight enough to maintain custody of their children.

McElrathbey's mother, 40-year-old Tonya McElrathbey, said she has battled an addiction to crack cocaine for more than a decade. She and Ray Ray say the father has lived in Las Vegas for the past three years and has a severe gambling problem. He has never seen Ray Ray play a down of football, take a shot in basketball or throw a pitch in baseball.

In June Fahmarr (pronounced FAY-mar) visited his brother in Clemson, but before long it became permanent. Earlier this month, McElrathbey received his mother's consent to be granted temporary custody of Fahmarr.

Tonya is struggling to get by in Atlanta, but says she's been sober for two months. She said she started a new job at a warehouse this week.

"I felt real guilty," she said. "I know he's in college and he's struggling. But I'm having problems. I'm going through some things. I just thought about it and prayed about it and I thought it was the best thing right now. I think he's courageous."

On Friday morning, McElrathbey took his sixth-grade brother to his first day at R.C. Edwards Middle School. The two are planning to move into an off-campus apartment in a few days.

McElrathbey said he won't have full custody until next week, when he plans to go to Atlanta to complete the paperwork.

"It's not the best situation," he said, "but it's better than the other situation."

McElrathbey is not challenging for a starting position as a redshirt freshman cornerback, and that's a difficult thing to accept for one of the best athletes on the team.

But he isn't down or despondent. Because for him, there's a lot more to life than chasing receivers around a football field.

"I try not to worry about too many things because I've been through so much. A lot of people say I'm just too optimistic, but I always know it could be a lot worse. So, say I'm not doing good on the field. It's not the end of the world."

'I missed a lot'

McElrathbey has a 16-year-old brother and a 13-year-old sister who live with his mother, and he would like to take them in as well. But he knows that would be virtually impossible. Other siblings are staying with his older sisters.

By the time he was 7 McElrathbey was living in a foster home, and soon after he moved in with his youth-league football coach. He said that was the same year his mother took him to a crack house and placed him in a room by himself while she scurried to another room to get high.

The smell of crack cocaine was familiar throughout his childhood - as commonplace as the aroma of cookouts for children who grow up with better lives, off in suburbs that seem far away.

"You'd smell it if you went into the bathroom after she finished smoking. It was like a burning sensation in your nose, like pepper. There's a real stench to it. My little brothers know the smell of it."

McElrathbey's mother said she wishes she could take those days back.

"My biggest regret is the years I missed being with him. I was going through so much, and all I cared about was the addiction. I missed a lot."

McElrathbey said when he was 9, drug dealers would pay him to "hold" their product because police would not be suspicious of a child walking around with crack lining his pockets. He started smoking marijuana at that point and continued through middle school.

McElrathbey said he never thought about touching crack because of the damage it had already inflicted. He remembers being an angry and aimless child in those days.

"I was just mad at the world," he said.

That changed when he arrived at Mays High School in southwest Atlanta. In 10th grade McElrathbey realized that his salvation and survival rested in his athletic ability. When he wasn't living with foster parents, coaches took him in and provided him with the bare necessities as he played football, basketball and baseball.

Fahmarr's village

He credits athletics, prayer and two Atlanta-area coaches with helping save his life. In middle school it was Marcus Causer; in high school, Tony Hill. He said the two coaches "are pretty much the reason I'm here." He still relies on a support group of Atlanta-area confidants and mentors he dubs his "network."

"I knew if I wasn't good in sports I might have to figure out where I was going to stay. It's always been my way out, my escape. If I wasn't an athlete I'd be a smoking fool. I'd probably be on some corner, living with a girlfriend or something. Smoking. Drinking."

As bad as things have been, McElrathbey said he doesn't resent or judge his parents. He looks back on the sobering details of his past matter-of-factly, with little emotion.

"That's just who they are," he said. "They can't help it."

McElrathbey's athleticism attracted recruiters from big-time schools, but it didn't take long for Burns, the Tigers' assistant coach, to see that there was more to the story. The more he heard about McElrathbey's past, the more he became enchanted with the youngster who seemed universally adored at his high school.

"From the principal down to the janitor, everyone just loved him," Burns said.

McElrathbey's magnetic personality is now rubbing off on the people at Clemson. Freshmen often are meek and reserved when they walk onto campus. But from the moment he arrived a little more than a year ago, McElrathbey has made efforts to become personally acquainted with everyone in the Tigers' athletic department - the athletic director, the secretaries and, yes, the janitor.

He thinks of it as a security blanket he never really had as a child. And he's weaving it himself, one person at a time.

"I make it a point to talk to everybody and kind of get to know them, because you don't ever know when you're going to need somebody."

Clemson's football team has rapidly grown to embrace McElrathbey and his latest challenge. Seniors Gaines Adams and Anthony Waters have assumed the role of surrogate uncles, looking out for Fahmarr when Ray Ray is busy.

"I am thankful, and I am blessed that everyone around here has kind of accepted him and looked out for him," McElrathbey said. "I'm one to believe it takes a village to raise a child. This is his village."

'I didn't get anything'

Adams said the defense recently named one of its play calls "Lil' Fahmarr."

"Sometime when camp is over, me and Waters are going to take him school shopping and do some things like that, just so he can have the little things that kids have right now," he said.

Said Waters: "Not only does (Ray Ray) have to play a brother. But he's also got to play a football player. Then he's got to be a student. And he's pretty much got to be a father also."

McElrathbey said he'll be able to support his brother with the help of Pell grants, a stipend he'll receive for living off campus, and maybe an occasional odd job.

"I've just got to give up the luxuries, the fast food, the new Air Jordans, things like that. I've done pretty well at taking care of me, and I've always been able to come up with the money if I needed to. I know how to cut grass. I can clean up. I can paint. ... I believe Fahmarr will end up growing up with me."

Even though McElrathbey is an optimist, he still has his bad days. On Christmas Day in Orlando, his breakdown was caused by flashbacks of all the meager Christmas mornings he experienced.

"I remember one Christmas when I didn't get anything, no type of nothing. It was just like every other day. You wake up and go outside and everybody else is running around. You might have a bike here, a bike there. And you're just standing there like, 'I ain't got nothing.' "

If McElrathbey has his way, his little brother will have something. Which will be much better than nothing.

"I look forward to having kids," he said. "Sometimes you want someone to be there when you come home from school and ask you, 'How are you doing? How was your day? Is everything OK?'

"Sometimes you just want that little attention."

Reach Larry Williams at lwilliams@postandcourier.com.