Behind Peterson's perfect image lay an imperfect human being
- Article by: MIKE KASZUBA, ROCHELLE OLSON and PAUL MCENROE
- Updated: October 6, 2014 - http://www.startribune.com/sports/vikings/278137431.html?page=all&prepage=1&c=y#continue
Adrian
Peterson was the face of the Vikings and marketing magic, his brushes
with the law and personal life ignored – until suddenly no one could
look away.
With
a new season, a new coach and a $1 billion stadium on the way, the
Minnesota Vikings turned to their undisputed star last summer to appear
on the team’s yearbook cover: Adrian Peterson, standing confidently in a dirty purple jersey.
In
an accompanying interview, Peterson said it was easy being the public
face of the Vikings because “I don’t really get into a lot of trouble.”
Just
a few weeks later, he was indicted in Texas on charges of whipping his
child, and now a Hall of Fame career has come to a jarring halt.
Peterson is scheduled to make his first court appearance Wednesday, and
he remains on a paid suspension from the Vikings until the case is
resolved.
On
the field, Peterson has been a breathtaking athlete, seeming to relish
running over defenders even more than running past them. Raised by a
single mother in rural Texas — his father was a felon — he had grown up
to sign the richest running-back contract in NFL history. Off the field,
his winning smile and modest, gentle demeanor made him one of the NFL’s
most bankable players. In one of countless volunteer events recounted
by Vikings staff, Peterson took children holiday shopping at Dick’s
Sporting Goods last year, spending more than $100 on each child. Some of
the most prominent corporate brands in America, such as Nike and General Mills, have linked their image with No. 28.
Sometimes, that has meant looking past incidents of questionable judgment and troubling behavior.
Records
examined by the Star Tribune show that Peterson, who was married
earlier this year, has fathered at least six children out of wedlock.
Two of them, a boy and a girl, were born to different mothers a month
apart in May and June 2010, according to birth records.
Peterson
also has had several scrapes with the law in Minnesota and Texas, two
involving nighttime carousing. In 2011 he was the subject of a six-month
police investigation of alleged criminal sexual misconduct during a
night of partying at a Twin Cities hotel; no charges were ever filed.
And while Peterson is well-known for his generosity to local charities,
his own charitable foundation has filed contradictory financial records.
Peterson and his attorney declined to comment for this story.
Yet
any contradictions between Peterson’s public image and private life
didn’t seem to matter — until the photos of bloody welts on his
4-year-old son surfaced last month, and the public began to ask how well
they actually knew the genial young athlete.
A celebrated freshman
Adrian
Peterson arrived at the University of Oklahoma in 2004 as one of the
most heralded high school players in the country. In his freshman year
he finished second in balloting for the Heisman Trophy, college
football’s most prestigious honor.
Soon,
he was confronting the hazards of sports stardom. While at Oklahoma,
Peterson was investigated — but cleared — over the aborted purchase of a
Lexus from a local auto dealer. Two teammates, including the Sooners’
starting quarterback, were dismissed from the team after school
officials investigated reports they received extra money from the
dealership.
Peterson
himself had possession of a car for several weeks before returning it.
His mother told reporters that the family could not afford the payments.
A former dealership owner defended Peterson’s arrangement, saying it
was normal to allow potential buyers to drive a car before financing was
secured.
After
Peterson’s indictment last month, Oklahoma Head Coach Bob Stoops
praised his former star, and told the “Dan Patrick Show,” a syndicated
sports television program, that Peterson “had a good, strong family
around him.” At the same time, Stoops acknowledged that Peterson’s
father was in prison while Oklahoma was recruiting the young star.
Peterson,
who was drafted after his junior year, recently donated $1 million to
the university. It was the largest financial gift from a former football
player.
“He’s a beautiful person,’’ Oklahoma athletic department spokesman Pete Moris said in a recent interview.
Night of partying
Once
he arrived in Minnesota in 2007, Peterson’s popularity rocketed nearly
every time he touched the football. In Sports Illustrated’s annual NFL
season preview issue on Sept. 1, Peterson anchored an eight-page ad for
the league’s Sunday Ticket and DirecTV.
When
Peterson suddenly appeared at the State Capitol one day in 2012, with
the Vikings stadium subsidy package hanging in the balance, Vikings
representative Lester Bagley made sure that several legislators got a
chance to ride in a capitol elevator with the star.
When the Vikings broke ground on their new stadium last December, Peterson was the only player to participate in the ceremony.
But for Peterson and other Vikings, temptation was never far away.
Dan
Guimont owned Boomtown, a Mankato bar where the Vikings gathered during
summer training camp. Guimont said he would hire security guards to
make sure the “jersey chasers” — young women seeking out Vikings players
— were kept away.
“I
don’t know where these dollies came from,” Guimont remarked, but he
noted that Peterson was one in a group of Vikings who stayed away from
the women who frequented his bar.
Peterson
has not, however, always proved so disciplined. He has fathered six
children by six women, and the children live in at least three states —
Minnesota, Georgia and Texas — according to court records reviewed by
the Star Tribune, and according to sources familiar with his family. He
met one of those children, a son, shortly before the boy died last year
in South Dakota after being beaten by another man.
In
an interview with ESPN a year ago, Peterson declined to say how many
children he had. “I know the truth,” he said. “I’m comfortable with that
knowledge.”
As
Peterson’s fame grew, the Vikings always tried to give Minnesota a star
that fans could admire. The team highlighted Peterson’s many charity
appearances, and he was known around Winter Park for greeting janitors
with the same warmth and enthusiasm he extended to Zygi Wilf, the team’s
owner. One source described the afternoon that Peterson suffered a
potentially career-ending knee injury during a game but, while being
carried off the field, he insisted on signing a jersey he had promised
to a young fan before the game.
In
an interview with the Huffington Post last week, former Vikings punter
Chris Kluwe called Peterson “one of the most down-to-earth superstars I
have ever met.”
Those
images were juxtaposed with more jarring headlines. In one incident,
Peterson was accused of resisting arrest during a scuffle at a Texas
nightclub, though he was not charged. Back in Minnesota, he was cited in
2009 for driving 109 miles per hour in a 55 mile per hour zone.
In
the fall of 2011, by then one of the NFL’s greatest runners, Peterson
signed a record-breaking contract, a seven-year agreement that could pay
him as much as $100 million.
Three months later, he was at the center of an incident in an Eden Prairie hotel room that resulted in an accusation of rape and triggered a lengthy police investigation.
The
38-page police report details a night of drinking, arguing and sex that
involved the running back, two relatives — including Peterson’s
brother, a minor — and four women, in various pairs. One of those
present, Chris Brown, a Peterson relative who lives with him in Eden
Prairie, told police that he paid for the room using a company credit
card for Peterson’s All Day, Inc.
As
the night wore on, the report says, one woman who said she knew
Peterson previously became upset when she saw him having sex with
another woman. She started an argument that lasted at least an hour.
According to the report, when she told him that she was “emotionally
attached to him,” Peterson reminded her that he was engaged to another
woman and had a baby.
The
next day one of the women filed a police complaint that was
investigated for months. Peterson insisted on his innocence and, at one
point, arrived to provide evidence at police headquarters through a back
door, his face shrouded by the hood of his sweatshirt.
His
attorney, Peter Wold, arranged for Peterson to take a polygraph test,
and said he quickly passed and that he also tested “clean” for drugs.
“The presumption of guilt is magnified for someone like AP, even when he’s innocent,” said Wold.
Hennepin County prosecutors, after reviewing the file, declined to file charges.
Charity questions
Peterson’s
problems came despite NFL programs designed to help players cope with
sudden wealth and fame. The NFL holds regular symposiums to help rookies
prepare for “their new positions as ambassadors of the league.” In
June, the four-day session took place in Canton, Ohio, the site of the
Pro Football Hall of Fame. Retired Vikings wide receiver and Hall of
Famer Cris Carter was among the speakers.
Still, some NFL veterans say the league hasn’t done enough.
Matt
Blair, the Vikings’ former All-Pro linebacker, said the league needs to
do a better job of spelling out what’s off limits to young athletes who
may have had little preparation for riches and stardom.
There still is no concise list, Blair said, adding that the “NFL has to provide [one] — from A to Z.”
Peterson’s
indictment has also thrown a spotlight on his charity, Adrian
Peterson’s All Day Foundation, which focuses on at-risk children,
particularly girls. The charity shut down its website following the
September indictment.
The
charity’s 2011 financial report showed $247,064 in total revenue, and
listed just three organizations that received money. A fourth outlay,
entitled simply “clothing for needy families,” listed “unknown” for the
number of recipients.
In
2009, the charity said its largest gift, $70,000, went to Straight From
the Heart Ministries in Laurel, Md. But Donna Farley, president and
founder of the Maryland organization, said it never received any money
from Peterson’s foundation. “There have been no outside [contributions]
other than people in my own circle,” said Farley. “Adrian Peterson —
definitely not.”
The
East Texas Food Bank, based in Tyler, said it received money from
Peterson’s foundation in 2009, although the foundation’s tax filing for
the year listed just one donation to a food bank — the North Texas Food
Bank, based in Dallas.
Colleen
Brinkmann, the chief philanthropy officer for the North Texas Food
Bank, said that while her agency partnered with Dallas Cowboys players,
she could not recall ever getting money from the All Day Foundation.
“Was he with the Cowboys before?” she asked of Peterson. “I’m not a
football fan.”
Panicked sponsors
Peterson
insisted that he never intended to injure his son, that he was merely
disciplining him the same way he’d been disciplined as a child. But the
child abuse indictment has left Vikings fans reeling — a recent Star
Tribune poll found that 57 percent of adult Minnesotans found his
behavior abusive — and has stunned Peterson’s corporate and charitable
partners.
Seventy-two
hours before he was indicted Sept. 12, Peterson hosted 100 people for a
Special Olympics fundraiser at his home. Special Olympics Minnesota
said the event “celebrated the power of sport and how it transforms,
unites and reveals the champion within.”
Barely
a week later, with Peterson’s career in free fall, Special Olympics
joined other corporate partners in abandoning the running back. “In
light of the information,” spokeswoman Lynn Shelander said in a
two-sentence e-mail, “we are abstaining from any engagement with Adrian
Peterson at this time.”
Minnesota-based
General Mills, which last year featured Peterson on three
limited-edition cereal boxes and called him “an inspiration both on and
off the football field,” pointed out that their arrangement had ended
five months before his indictment — and that most of the Wheaties boxes
featuring Peterson were probably off store shelves by now.
At
Winter Park, the Vikings headquarters, team officials scrambled to
contain the fallout. The team, which knew that Peterson had appeared
before a Texas grand jury during the summer, had believed the assertions
of their upbeat star player and his Texas attorney, who insisted that
nothing would come of the case.
Now they were dealing with widespread outrage over their Sept. 15 decision to allow Peterson to play in the next game.
Target
and other retailers were pulling Peterson jerseys from their shelves.
Carlson Cos., owner of the Radisson Hotel brand, informed the Vikings
that it was planning to release a video in which Trudy Rautio, the company’s chief executive, would expand on the decision to suspend its corporate partnership with the team.
U.S.
Bank, a leading candidate for the naming rights on the Vikings’ new
stadium, was also pressuring the Vikings to reverse course. The bank’s
CEO, Richard Davis, and former Carlson Cos. board chair Marilyn Carlson
Nelson had headed a group that successfully convinced the NFL in May to
hold the 2018 Super Bowl in Minnesota.
Now
top Vikings executives huddled again, holding a nine-hour conference
call with Peterson’s agent, the NFL Players Association and other
parties, running late into the evening. The decision to bench Peterson
appeared on the Vikings website early the next day — at 12:47 a.m., with
Wilf insisting that the news be announced as quickly as possible.
Adrian
Peterson will turn 30 next year, an age when many NFL running backs
begin to slow down. With his case still pending, it’s unclear whether he
will ever take the field in a Vikings uniform again. Even before his
indictment, the Vikings’ fickle fans had begun to move on to the next
rising star, quarterback Teddy Bridgewater, whose jersey sales were
surpassing Peterson’s by midsummer.
Peterson’s
mother, Bonita Jackson, has come to his defense, noting that she and
his father used corporal punishment on their children. But in an
interview with the Houston Chronicle, she captured the complexity of his
case: “My son is not a perfect man, by no means, but in the end I’m
proud to be his mom.’’
Yet sports marketing professionals say his career might not be over.
The
alleged abuse “does pretty much wipe out everything he’s done off the
field,” said Larry Chiagouris, a marketing professor at New York’s Pace
University. But a comeback is not out of the question, Chiagouris said,
if Peterson were to admit he was wrong in the way he punished his son,
pay his dues and get back to work.
“There will be a team next year that needs a running back,” he said.
Mike Kaszuba • 612-673-4388
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