Sports
He hasn’t played since 2001 but still gets paid $1.2 million every July what Bobby Bonilla did that shocked the baseball world
Every July 1, Bobby Bonilla, a former MLB All-Star collects a check from the New York Mets—all thanks to a deferred deal linked to Bernie Madoff’s Ponzi scheme and one of baseball’s most infamous financial blunders.
It’s the middle of summer, and while Major League Baseball charges through its season, one man who hasn’t picked up a bat in over two decades is still hitting home runs financially.
Welcome to another Bobby Bonilla Day.
Every July 1, former MLB star Bobby Bonilla receives a check for exactly $1,193,248.20 from the New York Mets — a payment that will continue every single year until 2035, when Bonilla turns 72. That’s right: Bonilla hasn’t played professional baseball since 2001, yet he’s set to earn nearly $30 million in total, long after his retirement.
We were just trying to make a smart decision Bonilla’s agent Dennis Gilbert once said. Turns out it became a historic one.
The Deal That Keeps Paying
So how did this incredible payout come to be?
Back in 1999, the Mets wanted to part ways with Bonilla, who still had $5.9 million left on his contract. Instead of paying it outright, then-owner Fred Wilpon opted for a deferred payment plan — heavily influenced by his faith in his investments with financier Bernie Madoff.
Wilpon assumed the money would grow in Madoff’s fund, but unbeknownst to him, that fund was actually a Ponzi scheme, one of the most notorious in history. Madoff, who died in 2021 while serving a 150-year prison sentence, defrauded investors of billions.
https://x.com/cnnsport/status/1940013774846545946Meanwhile, Bonilla’s agent struck a deal to start deferred payments in 2011, with a guaranteed 8% annual interest. That one clever clause turned a $6 million settlement into a jaw-dropping $29.8 million payday.
It’s a gift that keeps on giving,” fans often joke every July 1 — and it’s no exaggeration.
Not Alone in Deferred Deals
While Bonilla’s arrangement is perhaps the most famous, he’s far from the only athlete enjoying the benefits of deferred money.
Take Shohei Ohtani, for instance. When the Los Angeles Dodgers signed the two-way sensation in 2023 to a $700 million deal over 10 years, Ohtani agreed to defer $680 million of it. That means, beginning in 2034, Ohtani will receive $68 million per year until 2043 — long after his contract ends.
It’s a strategy teams like the Dodgers have embraced, also using it to structure deals for Blake Snell and Tommy Edman.
But the idea isn’t new. It dates back to the 1960s, when accountant Ralph Dolgoff helped the American Basketball Association (ABA) lure players away from the NBA with long-term financial security through staggered payments — a model now known as The Dolgoff Plan.
A Cautionary Tale and a Financial Legacy
Bonilla’s situation, while humorous to many, underscores a deeper lesson in sports business: timing and smart negotiation can be more valuable than short-term payouts.
His story is often brought up in sports contract discussions MBA programs, and financial planning courses. It’s a blueprint for how players can turn smaller amounts into massive financial windfalls with the right strategy — and the right agent.
In a world of monster contracts big trades, and short careers Bonilla’s yearly check remains a curious reminder that sometimes not playing pays the most.
Sports
Caleb Williams Impresses, but the Bears’ Late-Game Decisions Raise Eyebrows
One impossible touchdown changed everything — but Chicago’s season may have been decided by what happened next
For one breathtaking moment, football stopped making sense.
With seconds left in a divisional-round playoff game, Caleb Williams launched a prayer — a 50-plus-yard, off-balance, back-foot moon shot — and somehow, impossibly, it found Cole Kmet in the end zone. It was the kind of touchdown that instantly joins NFL folklore, the sort of play fans remember for decades.
Suddenly, the Chicago Bears were one extra point away from tying the Los Angeles Rams — a scenario no one could have imagined just moments earlier.
And that’s when the question arrived, loud and unavoidable:
Why not go for two?
The dream-big argument
If Chicago converts the two-point try, the Rams are done. Season over. The Bears move one game away from the Super Bowl, potentially facing either a second-year quarterback or an injury replacement in the AFC. No matchup in the NFL is easy, but this was a window — and those windows don’t stay open long.
Ask Aaron Rodgers or Dan Marino how rare Super Bowl chances truly are. Between them, 38 seasons, one Super Bowl appearance each. Even greatness doesn’t guarantee multiple shots.
Momentum, belief, shock value — everything screamed end it now. One play. One decision. Push all the chips to the middle.
But football decisions aren’t made in the clouds. They’re made in film rooms.

Why Chicago didn’t gamble
Offensive coordinator Ben Johnson didn’t flinch. Replays showed him calm, unmoved, almost indifferent to the miracle unfolding. He knew the touchdown created options — but also responsibility.
Because miracles don’t stack.
Just minutes earlier, Chicago had first-and-goal at the Rams’ 5-yard line. Three ineffective runs by De’Andre Swift and a failed fourth-down pass told Johnson everything he needed to know about his short-yardage confidence.
After the game, Johnson explained it plainly.
“Our goal-to-go situations hadn’t gone very cleanly,” he said. “Our inside-the-5 plan hadn’t worked out like we hoped. I just felt better about taking our chances in overtime.”
There was also time left — 13 seconds and two Rams timeouts. One explosive play, maybe a penalty, and Los Angeles could still have stolen it with a field goal even after a failed conversion.
So Chicago chose survival over glory.
How it unraveled anyway
The Bears lived to fight in overtime — and then watched their season collapse anyway. A brutal interception. A defensive breakdown. Game over.
And just like that, Williams-to-Kmet joined a heartbreaking fraternity: iconic plays that didn’t change the ending. Think Kurt Warner to Larry Fitzgerald in Super Bowl XLIII. Think Julio Jones and that impossible toe-tap in Super Bowl LI.
Legendary moments — frozen in time — attached to losses.
So… was it the wrong call?
Emotionally? Maybe.
Strategically? Probably not.
Coaches don’t get paid to chase vibes. They get paid to trust evidence. And Chicago’s evidence said a single, all-or-nothing snap wasn’t the best bet.
That doesn’t make it satisfying. It just makes it honest.

What this moment really means for Chicago
The Bears don’t leave this game empty-handed. They leave with something rarer than a win: belief.
You can’t build a franchise on miracle throws — but you can build a culture on refusing to quit. This team fought until the very last second, and that matters more than fans often admit.
Williams will be just 24 entering the 2026 season. Think about what he might look like at 27, 28, 29. There are no guarantees — Rodgers and Marino taught us that — but this is as good a foundation as any team could ask for.
Years from now, if Chicago is lucky, Williams-to-Kmet won’t be remembered as a cruel “what if.”
It will be remembered as the beginning.
Sports
A Strong Night for Caleb Williams Ends With Doubts About the Bears’ Late Decisions
One impossible touchdown changed everything — but Chicago’s season may have been decided by what happened next
For one breathtaking moment, football stopped making sense.
With seconds left in a divisional-round playoff game, Caleb Williams launched a prayer — a 50-plus-yard, off-balance, back-foot moon shot — and somehow, impossibly, it found Cole Kmet in the end zone. It was the kind of touchdown that instantly joins NFL folklore, the sort of play fans remember for decades.
Suddenly, the Chicago Bears were one extra point away from tying the Los Angeles Rams — a scenario no one could have imagined just moments earlier.
And that’s when the question arrived, loud and unavoidable:
Why not go for two?
The dream-big argument
If Chicago converts the two-point try, the Rams are done. Season over. The Bears move one game away from the Super Bowl, potentially facing either a second-year quarterback or an injury replacement in the AFC. No matchup in the NFL is easy, but this was a window — and those windows don’t stay open long.
Ask Aaron Rodgers or Dan Marino how rare Super Bowl chances truly are. Between them, 38 seasons, one Super Bowl appearance each. Even greatness doesn’t guarantee multiple shots.
Momentum, belief, shock value — everything screamed end it now. One play. One decision. Push all the chips to the middle.
But football decisions aren’t made in the clouds. They’re made in film rooms.

Why Chicago didn’t gamble
Offensive coordinator Ben Johnson didn’t flinch. Replays showed him calm, unmoved, almost indifferent to the miracle unfolding. He knew the touchdown created options — but also responsibility.
Because miracles don’t stack.
Just minutes earlier, Chicago had first-and-goal at the Rams’ 5-yard line. Three ineffective runs by De’Andre Swift and a failed fourth-down pass told Johnson everything he needed to know about his short-yardage confidence.
After the game, Johnson explained it plainly.
“Our goal-to-go situations hadn’t gone very cleanly,” he said. “Our inside-the-5 plan hadn’t worked out like we hoped. I just felt better about taking our chances in overtime.”
There was also time left — 13 seconds and two Rams timeouts. One explosive play, maybe a penalty, and Los Angeles could still have stolen it with a field goal even after a failed conversion.
So Chicago chose survival over glory.
How it unraveled anyway
The Bears lived to fight in overtime — and then watched their season collapse anyway. A brutal interception. A defensive breakdown. Game over.
And just like that, Williams-to-Kmet joined a heartbreaking fraternity: iconic plays that didn’t change the ending. Think Kurt Warner to Larry Fitzgerald in Super Bowl XLIII. Think Julio Jones and that impossible toe-tap in Super Bowl LI.
Legendary moments — frozen in time — attached to losses.
So… was it the wrong call?
Emotionally? Maybe.
Strategically? Probably not.
Coaches don’t get paid to chase vibes. They get paid to trust evidence. And Chicago’s evidence said a single, all-or-nothing snap wasn’t the best bet.
That doesn’t make it satisfying. It just makes it honest.

What this moment really means for Chicago
The Bears don’t leave this game empty-handed. They leave with something rarer than a win: belief.
You can’t build a franchise on miracle throws — but you can build a culture on refusing to quit. This team fought until the very last second, and that matters more than fans often admit.
Williams will be just 24 entering the 2026 season. Think about what he might look like at 27, 28, 29. There are no guarantees — Rodgers and Marino taught us that — but this is as good a foundation as any team could ask for.
Years from now, if Chicago is lucky, Williams-to-Kmet won’t be remembered as a cruel “what if.”
It will be remembered as the beginning.
Sports
Caleb Williams Did His Part But Did the Bears Overthink the Finish
One impossible touchdown changed everything — but Chicago’s season may have been decided by what happened next
For one breathtaking moment, football stopped making sense.
With seconds left in a divisional-round playoff game, Caleb Williams launched a prayer — a 50-plus-yard, off-balance, back-foot moon shot — and somehow, impossibly, it found Cole Kmet in the end zone. It was the kind of touchdown that instantly joins NFL folklore, the sort of play fans remember for decades.
Suddenly, the Chicago Bears were one extra point away from tying the Los Angeles Rams — a scenario no one could have imagined just moments earlier.
And that’s when the question arrived, loud and unavoidable:
Why not go for two?
The dream-big argument
If Chicago converts the two-point try, the Rams are done. Season over. The Bears move one game away from the Super Bowl, potentially facing either a second-year quarterback or an injury replacement in the AFC. No matchup in the NFL is easy, but this was a window — and those windows don’t stay open long.
Ask Aaron Rodgers or Dan Marino how rare Super Bowl chances truly are. Between them, 38 seasons, one Super Bowl appearance each. Even greatness doesn’t guarantee multiple shots.
Momentum, belief, shock value — everything screamed end it now. One play. One decision. Push all the chips to the middle.
But football decisions aren’t made in the clouds. They’re made in film rooms.

Why Chicago didn’t gamble
Offensive coordinator Ben Johnson didn’t flinch. Replays showed him calm, unmoved, almost indifferent to the miracle unfolding. He knew the touchdown created options — but also responsibility.
Because miracles don’t stack.
Just minutes earlier, Chicago had first-and-goal at the Rams’ 5-yard line. Three ineffective runs by De’Andre Swift and a failed fourth-down pass told Johnson everything he needed to know about his short-yardage confidence.
After the game, Johnson explained it plainly.
“Our goal-to-go situations hadn’t gone very cleanly,” he said. “Our inside-the-5 plan hadn’t worked out like we hoped. I just felt better about taking our chances in overtime.”
There was also time left — 13 seconds and two Rams timeouts. One explosive play, maybe a penalty, and Los Angeles could still have stolen it with a field goal even after a failed conversion.
So Chicago chose survival over glory.
How it unraveled anyway
The Bears lived to fight in overtime — and then watched their season collapse anyway. A brutal interception. A defensive breakdown. Game over.
And just like that, Williams-to-Kmet joined a heartbreaking fraternity: iconic plays that didn’t change the ending. Think Kurt Warner to Larry Fitzgerald in Super Bowl XLIII. Think Julio Jones and that impossible toe-tap in Super Bowl LI.
Legendary moments — frozen in time — attached to losses.
So… was it the wrong call?
Emotionally? Maybe.
Strategically? Probably not.
Coaches don’t get paid to chase vibes. They get paid to trust evidence. And Chicago’s evidence said a single, all-or-nothing snap wasn’t the best bet.
That doesn’t make it satisfying. It just makes it honest.

What this moment really means for Chicago
The Bears don’t leave this game empty-handed. They leave with something rarer than a win: belief.
You can’t build a franchise on miracle throws — but you can build a culture on refusing to quit. This team fought until the very last second, and that matters more than fans often admit.
Williams will be just 24 entering the 2026 season. Think about what he might look like at 27, 28, 29. There are no guarantees — Rodgers and Marino taught us that — but this is as good a foundation as any team could ask for.
Years from now, if Chicago is lucky, Williams-to-Kmet won’t be remembered as a cruel “what if.”
It will be remembered as the beginning.
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