“It’s a really good chance to connect with people who can help them later on, when they’ve finished their sporting career. A lot of relationships happen organically with these supporters,” she says. Pritzker and other donors often double as mentors in a program that the foundation recently started that aims to help athletes develop life and career skills.
Sport federations do receive funding from the U.S. Olympic Committee, anywhere from $64,000 to $5.3 million per year, depending on their odds for winning medals. In turn, the USOC—a registered charity itself—relies on donations from the public for about 10 percent of revenue. Its fundraising arm, Team USA Fund, even has an online registry at which people can purchase and donate such items as child care services or rolls of athletic tape. Athletes also increasingly appeal directly to the masses to help bankroll Olympic dreams. Numerous sports-centric crowdfunding sites such as Rallyme and Makeachamp have cropped up to fill the need, and Gofundme currently lists more than 7,000 wannabe Olympians.
Moneyed donors are particularly important to competitors in more obscure sports that attract few corporate sponsors. For example, dressage—often likened to ballet on horseback—counts Ann Romney as a patron. Jacqueline Mars, heiress to the Mars candy fortune, is one of the biggest backers of eventing, a sort of equine triathlon that involves dressage and a pair of jumping tests. Prize money is paltry, and top horses can cost more than $50,000, with annual upkeep costing no less.
“The sport simply cannot happen without the support of owners and sponsors,” says Mars. The billionaire breeds event horses at her farm in Virginia and has owned some of the sport’s top equines—including two Olympic medalists—whose riders wouldn’t necessarily have been able to afford them.
“Knowing that my involvement has contributed towards the success of riders and horses is extremely fulfilling,” she says. “It is incredibly emotional when your horse and its rider do well.”
A wealthy patron can make or break a sport’s relevance at the Olympic level. Five years ago, the International Olympic Committee voted to drop wrestling from the games by 2020. Billionaire investor Mike Novogratz, a Division 1 wrestler at Princeton, swept in to rally fellow financiers and hordes of other fans in backing a successful campaign to reverse the IOC’s vote. He also has personally seen to it that winners are rewarded by seeding a fund that pays out cash prizes of up to $250,000 to Olympic and World Championship medalists. Other backers of the fund include hedge funders Jamie Dinan and David McCormick.
“It’s really to say, ‘Thank you,’” says Novogratz of the prizes. “Everyone who wrestles leaves their sweat, blood, and soul on the mat. When an Olympic wrestler walks out there, they’re carrying the hopes and dreams of those millions of wrestling fans who’ve toiled for not a lot of reward and glory.”
For some sponsors, support comes with expectations. Barrie Wells says he had his prospective athletes draw up a business plan that showed him what they intended to do with his 10,000 pound ($13,810) investment. In exchange, he asked them to commit to giving motivational talks to schoolchildren a half-dozen times a year.
Wells also takes pride in spotting talent. “You find these governing bodies have a very mechanistic way of deciding who they fund,” he says. “You can look a bit deeper.”
For other donors, the appeal lies in access, being a privileged insider with first-hand knowledge of a team’s struggles and triumphs. Tony Pritzker, a serial Ironman triathlete, says mingling with Olympians and their coaches has imparted some lessons, such as the importance of flexibility and, of course, dedication.