SoCalHoops Recruiting News

DeAngelo Collins, Pat Barrett & AAU:
OC Register "Investigates"--(Sept. 20, 1999)

In case you missed it on Sunday, and you might have unless you live in Orange County and get the Register, the newspaper decided to make the legal difficulties and learning disabilities of a troubled 16 year old front page news.  The fact that this troubled 16 year old also happens to be 6'-9" with the body of an NBA player right now makes it news.  But there's more, lots more in this three-article report in the Orange County Register.  In a series of stories written by reporters Tony Saavedra and Susan Kelleher, the paper examines the troubles that DeAngelo Collins (6'-9" So. PF) from Inglewood High had when he first moved to Orange County from Stockton as an 8th grader; the paper attempts to examine, by dancing across the top of the issue, the people he came into contact with during his time here in SoCal, and then without directly saying so, attempts to pass judgment.  The conclusion:  DeAngelo was "used," shuttled from home to home, and his special education needs (he reportedly only reads at a third grade level) were never considered by any of his private coaching benefactors, or by the administrators at schools he chose to attend (Inglewood, his current school doesn't come under fire, evidently because they were the only ones smart enough not to talk to reporters about the details of a minor's life which are supposed to be private under the State Education Code.)

According to the newspaper's account, DeAngelo first came to Southern California to live with Butch Goodman, a car salesman and associate of Pat Barrett, the head coach of the Southern California All-Stars (SCA) who also runs a non-profit organization, "Orange County Hoops". DeAngelo was sent to SoCal by his club coach in Stockton who wanted DeAngelo to "be the best with the best."  Brion Smith, the club coach, was quoted as saying: "Up here there's no challenges. what state champion has come out of Stockton? It's a little country town. . . I wanted him to be the best with the best."  So DeAngelo moved in with Goodman who enrolled him at a private school where he attended the 8th grade again until the tuition got to be too steep for Goodman, who then enrolled him at a public high school.

Behind the story of DeAngelo Collins, there are at least several sub-texts, several themes presented:  That certain adults "used" DeAngelo (although how they "used" him or what they got other than trouble, tuition payments or a young man living with them on a temporary basis is never made exactly clear)); that Pat Barrett may have incorrectly interpreted the US Tax Code when filing returns for the non-profit Orange County Hoops, which runs the SCA teams and receives money from Nike; that none of the school administrators at any of the schools DeAngelo attended even knew about his special education needs, and none of them ever had him tested; and that "club coaches" have influence over young player's lives.. . sometimes "too much" influence. 

Was the series of three stories in the OC Register on Sunday a "fair" representation of AAU basketball and the plight of most players who participate in what is known as "club" ball?   Absolutely not.    While the reports may be more factual than not,  they are certainly not representative of the majority of players, coaches or schools who deal with high profile talented youth players.  And what concerns us is that the stories were evidently written by reporters who come to the subject of high school sports, and more importantly club basketball and college recruiting, with very little sense of perspective or context.

And after reading the stories, we were moved to ask, "What lessons are we to learn from the very personal tragedy that is becoming the life of DeAngelo Collins?"  What generalizations can one make about the people surrounding him, those who have put the basketball in his hands?  We hear the lament that a young player is being "used" or "abandoned",  that no one really seemed to ever pick up on DeAngelo's reading problems or his special emotional and educational needs,  but other than Rob Alexander, a former high school and club coach himself (and former USC basketball assistant) telling us that "It's a dirty business,"  what conclusions should we draw?

We know that one conclusion we will not draw from this series of articles is that all of club basketball is "bad."  Neither are the coaches, the parents and the people who make it happen.  The NCAA has recently instituted legislation which is designed to limit the influence of "outside interests" in the process of the recruitment of high school basketball players; the proposals would limit the number of days during July when college coaches would be able to view prospective student-athletes in club and AAU tournament or evaluation settings.  The stated objective is to limit the summer influence (read "shoe companies"), and to get the high school coaches more involved and "back in control."   Really.  That's the phrase that the high school coaches associations who have been working with the NCAA have used, "back in control."   

But after reading the articles, we really have to ask, "in control" of what?  The same coaches and high school administrators who never spent the time with DeAngelo to diagnose his reading and emotional problems?   It seems that while the high school coaches want to criticize the AAU and club coaches, there's an equal amount of blame, at least when it comes to DeAngelo Collins to go around for everyone.   Club coaches are not educators, counselors, special education specialists, and they certainly don't pretend to be.  It seems to us, before people start leveling "fault" or "blame" that the measure of performance and expectations ought to be clearly defined.  What do we, as a society, expect of private, club basketball coaches?  Is it fair that we expect anything more of them than that they are good coaches, who can do the job of teaching their players the game, instill decent life lessons about how to win and lose graciously and with pride?   Or do we expect more; should they be social service workers, well-attuned educators and psychological counseling experts?   We know what to expect of school teachers and high school coaches.  They have job descriptions and well-defined performance standards.  But when we begin to judge the performance and personal lifestyles of people such as "club" or AAU coaches, what really should we expect and what is the standard of behavior? 

These questions are never really answered by the articles because they can't be.   There is no "standard" of behavior other than the norms and standards which the parents of a player set for a coach who is coming into contact with their children.  Of course, there are exceptions to the rule, such as in circumstances where a coach like Darryl McDonald uses subterfuge and what is essentially a false identity in order to continue coaching kids.  But setting aside the obvious minimal standard that an AAU or club coach probably shouldn't be a felon or a convicted sex offender (and this was not disclosed to those parents who let their children be coached by McDonald, so it's hard to assess fault with those parents), it's our belief that the largest share of "blame" has to fall on the parents.  While the story of DeAngelo Collins, at least up to this point in his life, is terribly sad, the real tragedy is that educators been seemingly asleep at the switch, allowing the train wreck which DeAngelo's life is quickly becoming. How is it that he was able to get through school to the age of 16 and can't read beyond a third grade level?   Is it Butch Goodman's fault?  Pat Barrett's? Nike's?  Probably not.  Butch sells cars, he's not an educator. He was willing to provide a home for DeAngelo, but that evidently didn't work out to anyone's satisfaction.  When it didn't, why did he not return to Stockton?  That's a question that only DeAngelo and his mother can answer, and they're not talking.  Somehow, instead of Stockton, he ended up staying in Southern California, living with his coaches.    

The central theme of the first lead article was that "Goodman and Nike coach Patrick Lee Barrett knew what they were getting in Collins, an academically challenged kid from a financially troubled home in one of Stockton's worst neighborhoods."  But did they really know that, and could they have been expected to forsee how troubled DeAngelo would evidently turn out to be?   What really did they know about his background or his circumstances?  These are questions the articles never really even try to answer.

Butch Goodman is quoted as saying "Through basketball, people will help him.   Without basketball, he's just another kid on the streets."   Sad commentary?  You bet.  Is it a correct assessment of DeAngelo's life situation?   Absolutely.  "Who's fault" is it?" the Register asks, but the story provides no real answers.  The only person who really has the answers, DeAngelo and his mother, declined to be interviewed for the story.  About DeAngelo's psychological problems and the failure to spot them, Pat Barrett was quoted as saying, "I don't go into psychological counseling with all the kids we have," he said. "We have 150 kids. I'm not a mind reader."

What's wrong with this picture?  Barrett doesn't profess to be anything other than a basketball coach. He's been doing the same thing for years. He's helped some players get the exposure and attention they might never have gotten otherwise. Others, including former players say he just "uses" the kids.  Who is right?  Does it really matter?   We are not apologists for Pat Barrett, Nike, Mr. Goodman, who are involved on the club side of things, nor for   Rob Alexander or Andy Ground who both had him play for their respective high schools.  Nor are we apologists for Bob Gottlieb who also opened up his home briefly to DeAngelo but was frightened enough by an outburst during a club practice, so much so that he asked DeAngelo to leave his home.    These people all have their own agendas, and they make no secret about it.  Pat Barrett receives money from Nike to organize youth basketball teams. He does that,  and he does a pretty good job at getting the best talent in the region.  Nike's agenda is to sell shoes. It may also be to help disadvantaged kids and keep them off the street by offering them a place and a team to play basketball with, but at this level, we're not really talking about Park & Rec League basketball.  Nike pays Barrett to put the best kids together in the hope of finding the next Michael Jordan, a kid who will have brand loyalty to Nike, so that Nike can sell the dream, which means selling shoes and apparel.  Not a big secret.  And it's not unique to Nike either.  But, we keep hearing the sub-text of these articles:  "Is there anything wrong with these stated agendas?  We don't really know.  We're not talking about cigarrettes, drugs, guns, pornography or alcohol.  We're talking about a sport, a game, and the shoes and apparel that go with it.  This is still America, and capitalism is good, right? 

Some of that Nike money also goes a long way towards giving some kids the chance to play ball who otherwise would be out on the streets. But the articles also create the impression that at least $500,000 of Nike's money (or somebody's money) got spent but not reported on the non-profit organization's tax returns.  But no further explanations are offered,  just the vague innuendo that something underhanded must be going on.

Likewise, Rob Alexander and Andy Ground wanted winning teams and DeAngelo was willing to enroll at their schools. Yet no one noticed that he had never finished the 8th grade.  Rob Alexander thinks it's a "dirty business" and Andy Ground claims not to have known about the CIF rules about undue influence.   Maybe they're both right.   But will any of this change the fact that for 16 years, the educational institutions charged with the responsibility of teaching DeAngelo Collins how to read and become a productive member of society somehow failed in that task?   We don't think so.

Is DeAngelo typical of what occurs in "club" basketball?  Is he the "average" guy, or is he the exception? Are there other DeAngelo's out there?   Undoubtedly.  But crimes are also committed in the world every day, and bad things sometimes happen to good people. People try to do the best they can and sometimes, if the real parents aren't there, it's often not enough.  So what's the answer?   We don't know.  But we hesitate to draw large conclusions about all of basketball by what is contained in these articles.  Much of it is old news, not an especially new story, at least not for those of us who follow high school basketball both during and out of the "regular" season.

About the "club" scene, Casey Jacobsen notes that "in today's age, you've got to play travel team basketball; that's where the college coaches are. . . "  And he's right.  Rainer Wolf, the coach at Trabuco Hills laments the fact that club basketball benefits "the best players at the expense of the rest,"  contenting that "The better kids don't pay to play. ... The ones that are marginally talented, they pay the big bucks. . . "   These are not necessarily untrue observations, but are they more facts of life in the world of athletics in general, where the best rise to the top and the "marginally talented" players may just not make it to play in college anyway?  Draw your own conclusions.

We hope that DeAngelo gets straightened out, and that he gets the help he needs.   We hope that club coaches who read about DeAngelo's situation will, if confronted with another "DeAngelo" be sensitive to the fact that these are young men they're dealing with who still need to focus on getting an education. One day the ball will stop bouncing.  For everyone.  But in the meantime, there's still a lot of good to be done and a lot of games to be played, and thousands of young men and women who need to be taught the game, who need to be taught about life, who will need to get  to college, and for a few lucky ones, college scholarships.  Should high school coaches be the only ones to teach these lessons?   Not if the examples portrayed in the DeAngelo Collins story are typical.  We know Rob and we know Andy, and don't think they did anything to intentionally hurt DeAngelo, and in fact we know they both tried to help him get his situation and his life under control.   It would be a shame if, in the rush to look for scapegoats, to blame someone for DeAngelo's personal tragedy, a lot of innocent coaches and kids get tarred with the same brush.

As you'll see below, the presentation in the Register consisted of three separate, but related stories.   We present the three articles below.  Feel free to leave your own commentary on the message forums.

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Player's on-court lifeline fraying

GUIDANCE: Adults put a troubled student's learning needs on the sidelines in favor of his basketball abilities. 

September 19, 1999
By TONY SAAVEDRA and SUSAN KELLEHER
The Orange County Register 

Basketball was supposed to save DeAngelo Marquis Collins.

His teachers used it as a reward to get him to overcome learning disabilities and control his explosive temper. His coach in Stockton used it to get the 6-foot-9 youth out of his impoverished neighborhood and down to Southern California to play for a nationally recognized, Nike-sponsored team. Collins would live with a guardian who would take care of him.

The Nike Swoosh was to be his lifeline.

But Collins, then a 14-year-old with an NBA-sized body and a third-grade reading capacity, ended up being shuffled from guardian to guardian, home to home, school to school. For two years he didn't receive the special education he needed — and that he received in Stockton — because of decisions made by his informal guardian, Christopher "Butch" Goodman, and officials at Tustin High School.

The bottom fell out when Collins, now 16, was charged May 13 with felony assault on a teammate at Tustin High School, a charge that could result in a maximum sentence of seven years in the California Youth Authority. His trial is scheduled to begin Thursday.   Collins allegedly fractured teammate Mike Pinto's cheekbone and nose and caused inner-ear bleeding during a fight after an early morning basketball practice. Those who witnessed Collins' public fall from Tustin High basketball star to alleged felon say his experience is a disturbing tale about youth basketball programs and the adults who run them.

"DeAngelo is being used by a lot of people for his basketball skills," said Roger Hogan, a former youth basketball coach and the father of one of Collins' friends.

Added Dean Crowley, former CIF Southern Section commissioner, "This young kid is a victim, and he apparently is the victim of some overzealous adults."

Orange County child-abuse officials say they would have launched an investigation into Collins' situation if it had been reported to them. "We would look for whether he was living for a long period of time with people who are not assuming parental responsibilities," said Mary Harris, deputy director of Orange County's Child and Family Services. Collins and his mother declined to be interviewed.

Hogan and others see a gentle side to Collins. They see a boy who sacrificed his lunch money to cover flag-football registration fees for a bunch of low-income kids in Stockton. A boy who reads the Bible every night and goes to church with anybody who'll take him. But Collins' former guardian, Goodman, said basketball may be Collins' only redemption.   "Through basketball, people will help him. Without basketball, he's just another kid on the streets," said Goodman, a Long Beach car salesman who became a central figure in Collins' life in  Orange County. Goodman and Nike coach Patrick Lee Barrett knew what they were getting in Collins, an academically challenged kid from a financially troubled home in one of Stockton's worst neighborhoods. But they were unable to deal with his problems and needs.

Since December, Collins has been shuffled among five homes, twice because of his temperament. "He's been abandoned by everybody," said Hogan. Felony charges were the last thing Collins expected when he boarded the train from Stockton in May 1997, headed for one of the nation's elite club teams, Barrett's Southern California All-Stars.

He had been raised in a blur of low-income rentals in North Stockton neighborhoods marked by blistered paint, rusting cars and loose dogs. His mother, Loretta Marie Taylor, struggled to keep the single-parent family financially afloat, working as a bus driver, then a truck driver. She filed for divorce from Collins' father shortly before his birth, Nov. 21, 1982.

Collins grew into an angry kid, frustrated by his learning disabilities and his poverty, said Mike Dutra, principal of a private remedial school that Collins attended in Stockton. "He didn't have a lot of direction or guidance. He was angry about everything, feeling like he didn't get a good start because he came from a family that was having financial difficulties and having to move frequently," Dutra said.

But basketball seemed to be a release, a way for Collins to shine, a way to bolster his self-esteem, Dutra said. Teachers used basketball as a lever to get him motivated in his schoolwork. On the court, Collins towered over his teammates, standing about 6-foot-3 at 13. He impressed Stockton club team coach Brion Smith, who pushed for the move to Southern California and the Nike team.

"Up here there's no challenges. What state champion has come out of Stockton? It's a little country town," Smith said. "Up here nobody recruits because it is not the same talent. Southern California schools can get seen by the big colleges."

At the remedial school, Collins received special-education instruction and was improving scholastically, Dutra said. But he left without finishing the eighth grade to join the Nike program and coach Barrett. Collins ended up living with Goodman, Goodman's son, Jason, and two other players in Cerritos and then Tustin. Goodman said he had Collins tested academically and found he had only a third-grade reading capacity. So Goodman enrolled Collins at Baptist Christian school in Norwalk to repeat the eighth grade.

Former Principal Raul Ortiz Jr. said the school did not offer special education, but teachers customized the curriculum for Collins. He was later dropped from the school because Goodman was several months behind in the tuition, Ortiz said. For the second time, Collins failed to finish the eighth grade. But that didn't stop Goodman from enrolling him at Tustin High. Collins' unfinished eighth-grade term went unnoticed by Tustin because his records didn't arrive for six months. They were withheld by the Christian school because of the unpaid bills, according to former CIF commissioner Crowley. What also went unnoticed until the transcripts arrived in March was that Collins was supposed to get special-education instruction. The oversight by Tustin High is inexcusable, said CIF assistant commissioner Harold Cebrun. "There's no way in hell that kid should have gone to regular classes through March," Cebrun said. "That's a crime."

Tustin Unified School District officials, as well as Tustin High Principal Larry Carlson, declined to comment on the situation, citing student confidentiality. Goodman said he refused to pay the bills because Collins was being harassed by an administrator at the Christian school. After Collins left Baptist Christian, Goodman went shopping for a place for him to attend high school — and play basketball. Goodman said he was looking for a school with a moderately successful basketball program, where Collins could make the varsity team as a freshman. Goodman took Collins and roommate Jamal Walls (who left Tustin to enroll at Crenshaw last season) to Canyon High in Anaheim Hills. But there were problems.

"Let's just say they were inconsistent in practice," said Rob Alexander, Canyon's former coach. "They didn't show up for practice, they were late for games, insubordinate to assistant coaches. They were not very coachable." Alexander added, "The kids needed to separate themselves from Butch (Goodman). He's trying to be a player's agent and that's not appropriate. ... He'd complain he's got a mortgage payment or rent coming up and he doesn't have money. (He) never straight out asked me for money, but the innuendoes were there." Goodman said he never made any innuendoes about money — and being an agent isn't a bad thing. "Part of being a parent is acting as a child's agent," he said.

Next, Goodman and Collins ran into Tustin High basketball coach Andy Ground at a local restaurant, and Ground invited him and Goodman to watch a Tustin practice — despite CIF rules forbidding such communications between would-be students and coaches. Ground said he was unaware of the rule. Goodman took Collins to a practice, moved to Tustin and enrolled  him at the high school in September. Goodman said he asked Tustin High officials three times to give Collins special education but was denied. He never thought about sending Collins to a private high school that serves students with special needs.   "When you put a child in a situation like that, they get to think something is wrong with them," he said.

Barrett added that he didn't see any reason to get psychological counseling for Collins. "I don't go into psychological counseling with all the kids we have," he said. "We have 150 kids. I'm not a mind reader."

But throughout his life, say educators and acquaintances, there were cries for help in the form of Collins' chronic anger and defiance. It was because of Collins' temperament that Goodman asked him to leave in December, after more than 1 1/2 years with him. Goodman said Collins started missing schoolwork and flouting house rules. After a few chances, Goodman said he told Collins it was time to go home. "Did I give up a little early? Maybe I did," Goodman said.

Collins later went to stay with Tustin coach Ground, but after three months, school administrators warned that the arrangement could be in violation of CIF rules against "undue influence." So Collins moved in with Bob Gottlieb, who runs a private basketball program called Branch West Academy. Collins was told to leave after about five weeks when he blew up at Gottlieb during a practice. "It was a frightening verbal explosion," Gottlieb said. Collins ended up with the family of a friend in Corona and finally moved to a relative's house in Inglewood, where he now attends high school and continues to play for Barrett's Southern California All-Stars. Inglewood High officials would not say whether Collins now receives special education.

At Tustin, Collins averaged 12 points and 12 rebounds, making the All-Golden West League first team this past season. But he repeatedly got into run-ins with teammates and coaching assistants, Ground said. The turmoil bubbled over when he got into a fistfight March 24 with teammate Mike Pinto. The fight occurred minutes after Collins was kicked off the team for insubordination.

Barrett came to Collins' rescue after his arrest. Collins is now represented by Gary Pohlson, one of Orange County's most prominent criminal attorneys — whose son played on one of Barrett's Nike teams. Barrett told a reporter that Collins' legal fees would be "worked out later."

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Private coaches court high school basketball stars 

SPORTS: Public-school teams say players abandon loyalty in favor of a shot at college ball. 

September 19, 1999

By SUSAN KELLEHER and TONY SAAVEDRA
The Orange County Register 

Regulations that bar high school coaches from wooing top players helped open the door to private coaches who become advisers to up-and-coming basketball stars.

The shift in power and influence has created a bitter rift between high school and private coaches. And even some of those private coaches think their colleagues are using star athletes for personal gain.

"It's a dirty business," said former Canyon High School basketball coach Rob Alexander, who also ran a private summer team with support from adidas America Inc.

"(Private) coaches will go in and have these teams put together for  seventh- and eighth-graders," he said. "They'll bring them in, buy them stuff, take them on shopping sprees and buy them expensive gold jewelry. They then try to have a say where they go to high school and college. Basically what you have is guys who act like the guy's agent." Alexander said the intense competition for good players has led him to accompany players to the airport before tournaments to prevent other coaches from moving in on them. 

Some high school coaches complain that the best players no longer have a sentimental attachment to their hometown schools, opting instead for out-of-state prep schools or higher profile programs at basketball powerhouse high schools such as Mater Dei in Santa Ana and Dominguez in Compton.

"There's a lot of garbage going on where kids are being moved around, shopped around and it's really getting bad," said Redlands coach Randy Genung, who said he lost three players when a private Riverside coach suggested they go to a prep school in Maine. "Kids are recruiting (other) kids, the club coaches are recruiting kids, and the high school coaches are just watching."  But while some adults wring their hands, students — especially the best players — are going where the payoff is. And that means private club teams that play in national tournaments in July when college scouts turn out in droves searching for new talent.

"In today's age, you've got to play (travel team) basketball; that's where the college coaches are," said Casey Jacobsen, a 6-foot-6 shooting guard who entered Stanford University this semester on a scholarship worth about $100,000. "Stanford (scouts) only came to one of my high school games. They came to 10 of my (travel team) games." The freebies private coaches can provide — especially if they're sponsored by companies such as Nike Inc. or adidas — sweeten the pot, Jacobsen said.

"The first game you play for them, you get the most stuff: shoes, shirts, hats, socks, jerseys," said Jacobsen, who played for several traveling teams, including one run by Garden Grove coach Patrick Lee Barrett.

"They try to entice you with some merchandise, and usually it works," Jacobsen said. "It does get carried away. Kids have to fly all over the country and sacrifice a lot of time and school to play in these things just so they can get a scholarship."

Shavonne Clemons, whose 15-year-old son also played for Barrett, said she doesn't see anything wrong with "street agents" trying to nab young kids for their teams. "If this keeps the kids focused, keeps them traveling or gets them free shoes, I don't see anything wrong with it," Clemons said.

But Rainer Wolf, coach at Trabuco High School, said the system benefits the best players at the expense of the rest. The parents of average kids pay up to $50 an hour to join programs, then pay hundreds more for tournament travel and fees, skills clinics and team fees.

"The better (kids) don't pay (to play)," Wolf said. "The ones that are marginally talented, they pay the big bucks."

Charity basketball group steps up to tax foul line

SPORTS: Coach for Nike-sponsored O.C. Hoops says he was unaware of reporting rules.  

September 19, 1999

By SUSAN KELLEHER and TONY SAAVEDRA
The Orange County Register 

A controversial Orange County basketball coach built an enviable franchise for his corporate sponsor by flouting tax laws and treating some of the most promising college basketball prospects to cross-country travel and high-end clothing.

Tax returns and interviews with coach Patrick Lee Barrett and his accountant show that the majority of program money raised by his nonprofit organization — created to help 800 inner-city youths — now is spent on only about 20 of the most talented high school players in Southern California.

The organization, Orange County Hoops, bought school clothes and $150 sneakers for star players, paid phone and electric bills for their families, provided them with free food and housing, and gave them money to gas up new cars that Barrett said his associate helped them finance

Barrett said Orange County Hoops also helped pay his own rent and utilities, provided him with a 1999 Mustang convertible, and covered $12,600 in attorney fees to resolve juvenile criminal charges and custody issues for a player who now lives with him.

"Ninety-nine percent of all the money is spent on the kids," Barrett said. "I've invested back into the program hoping the players would come back and take care of me and the program later on."

But Barrett acknowledged that his charity's tax return does not account for more than $500,000 — about $75,000 a year — in merchanise from Nike Inc., the sportswear giant that has helped bankroll his operation since 1993.

Alan Dreizen, a specialist on charity law with the Internal Revenue Service, said an organization can be fined or lose its charity status if it fails to report donations, or does not perform the services it promised to obtain tax-exempt status.

Barrett said he was unaware of tax rules, and blamed his accountant for what he said was a failure to include information.

He also said cash from Nike that he spent on the team was not reported on the charity's tax returns. He did not give the amount but said he accounted for the money on his personal tax returns, which are not public records.

Robert Dworkin, the certified public accountant who prepared the charity's tax returns for 1996 and 1997, said he would probably have to file amended returns to account for the Nike merchandise.

He also said that it's Barrett's responsibility to tell him about all donations and any significant change in the charity's programs.

In its bylaws, O.C. Hoops said the charity would be controlled by a nine-member board of directors, with at least four corporate officers. But records show that Barrett is the sole director, and he and his mother are the only corporate officers. Barrett also is listed as its sole employee, drawing about $13,000 a year salary

 
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