HELP NO ONE, AND STILL GET NON PROFIT STATUS, USTA! by Javier Palenque

In the bewildering bureaucracy of tax exemption, there existed a group known as the incapable Ol' Boys. A jolly band of self-serving, paper-pushing professionals, they decided to embark on a daring mission: to apply for non-profit status with the IRS. But there was a twist—they would do it with brutal honesty. Yes, they would tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. How bad could it be?

The Application

The group huddled together in their dimly lit office, surrounded by stacks of participation reports and stacks of money. The leader, let’s call him Mr. Photo-op ( he likes to be in all photos for doing nothing), began dictating the application:

All right, team, let's start with the mission statement. We will never give more than 0.5% of our revenues to help the poor. Helping the poor is a hassle, so we’ll just claim we do. Sound good?”

The room erupted in applause. Of course, they all agreed. No one in that room had ever been hired for their independent thinking. Being a yes-person was a prerequisite for the job. And why not? The pay was generous, and as long as they jumped when the Photo-op guy said ‘jump,’ they had no reason to leave.

Next, they tackled their strategy for the sport they were supposed to care about.

“Do we even like this sport?” one brave soul asked.

“Who cares? It’s a secure job!” another retorted. “We don’t need to love the sport; we just need to look like we do. We’ll hire a female PR firm to spin our indifference into a passion she will lie like no one else.”

With that settled, they moved on to the real meat of their plan: the finances.

Let’s manipulate some numbers, shall we? Fake participation rates should do the trick. Who’s going to question us? If anyone tries, we’ll just ignore them. Dissent? Not on our watch!”

By now, the application was looking solid. The final piece explained how they would spend the millions they were about to rake in.

“We’ll give money to smaller sections that mirror our methods on a tiny scale. Of course, they’ll only get funding if they play by our rules. As for the rest of the cash, well, we’ve got salaries to cover, luxury boxes to sell, and entertainment to provide. We’ll pay a few ATP guys to play here for a couple of weeks. After all, who needs unions? Foreign players are cheaper!”

And with that, the application was complete. The Klan of Incapables proudly marched to the IRS office, confident in their success.

The Approval

At the IRS window, the clerk barely glanced at the application before stamping it “APPROVED.”

“You folks look like you’ve got it all figured out! Good luck with your non-profit!” the clerk said cheerfully.

The incapable Ol' Boys could hardly believe their luck. Here they were, openly admitting to their scam, and yet the IRS didn’t blink an eye. They were now officially a non-profit, despite doing nothing of the sort.

The Audit?

Decades passed, and the Klan of Incapables was rolling in cash. They sold box seats, overpriced food and drinks, and paid their loyal yes-men handsomely. Profits were meager—because, of course, they ate it all up. Translation they wasted it, and no audits allowed to figure out in what.

One day, a pesky individual known as Grow Tennis Guy from sunny Miami began asking questions anyone would.

“How can you not trust us?” Mr. Photo-op scoffed. “We’re a non-profit! We’ve got the IRS stamp to prove it!”

But Grow Tennis Guy wasn’t buying it. He demanded an audit. The Klan of Incapables laughed it off, knowing that even if the audit happened, they had covered their tracks well enough. Or so they thought.

The Plumbers Association of NY State

Meanwhile, down the hall at the IRS, a small, hardworking group of plumbers from the Plumbers Association of NY State was also applying for non-profit status. Their application was simple: they wanted to help low-income families fix their plumbing issues for free.

“Sorry, denied,” said the IRS clerk without hesitation. “This doesn’t seem like a real non-profit. We need to see some big numbers, maybe some sponsorship deals, and a luxury box or two.”

The plumbers were stunned. How could their honest, well-intentioned application be rejected while the Klan of Incapables was living it up on a non-profit’s dime? None of the plumbers could understand what was happening and so, they left their good intentions at the door.

The Moral of the Story:

In the wacky world of tax exemptions, truth is stranger than fiction, and honesty might just be the worst policy. So, next time you see a group claiming to be a non-profit, selling luxury boxes, and raking in millions, remember the tale of the Klan of Incapables. And maybe, just maybe, give those plumbers a call. At least they’ll fix your sink without taking you for a ride.

Leticia James has to read this, no worries, she gets a copy every day as a reminder of what she needs to do. REVOKE the non-profit status, is the only way the Ol' Boys will understand right from wrong.

I say NO to Ineptitude and YES to growing the game.

I can be reached at [email protected]