The Restaurants Athletes Built (And Why Most Failed)
Michael Jordan opened his first restaurant in Chicago in 1993. Not the steakhouse everyone knows. A sports bar called Michael Jordan’s Restaurant on LaSalle Street. Multi-level. Sports memorabilia everywhere. Basketball-themed menu items. That was his first step as one of the first athlete restaurant owners.
It closed in 1999.
The steakhouse that replaced it? Still open. Four locations. Ruth Reichl from the New York Times praised it for “serious food” that didn’t compromise Jordan’s dignity. The difference between the two wasn’t Jordan’s involvement. It was who he partnered with and what they were actually trying to build.
The most successful athlete restaurant owners don’t rely on their name to carry mediocre food. They either buy proven franchises that already work or partner with people who actually know hospitality. The gap between franchising 155 Five Guys locations and opening a fine-dining steakhouse with your name on the door forever reveals everything about how athletes think about food, business, and what survives after the jersey gets retired.
The Athlete Restaurant Owners Who Chose Volume Over Vanity
Shaquille O’Neal has one rule for business investments: he has to believe in the product. If he won’t use it himself, he won’t put his name on it.
So Shaq became one of the most prolific athlete restaurant owners in history by going all-in on brands he actually eats at. Five Guys? He owned 155 franchises at one point—roughly 10% of the entire company. Papa John’s? Board member and face of their ad campaigns after the company needed image rehabilitation. Auntie Anne’s pretzels? Multiple locations. Krispy Kreme? Check. He even owns seven restaurants in Las Vegas and a nightclub.
Shaq’s post-retirement income reportedly exceeds $400 million, surpassing what he made playing basketball. His restaurant empire is a huge piece of that. He’s not trying to reinvent dining. He’s buying proven concepts that already work and scaling them.
The smart move here isn’t originality—it’s volume. Shaq figured out that owning 155 mediocre burger joints beats owning one amazing restaurant that might close in three years. Franchise ownership removes the guesswork. The menu exists. The supply chain exists. The marketing playbook exists. You just execute.
LeBron James figured this out too. He invested less than $1 million in Blaze Pizza in 2012 and now owns 19 franchise locations with a 10% stake in the company. Forbes called Blaze the “fastest-growing pizza chain in the U.S.” LeBron’s initial investment is now worth tens of millions. That’s the franchise model working exactly as designed.
How Magic Johnson Became One of the Smartest Athlete Restaurant Owners
Magic Johnson didn’t just buy Starbucks franchises. He convinced Howard Schultz, then-CEO of Starbucks, that inner cities were an untapped market the company was ignoring.
Johnson approached Schultz directly with data showing that underserved urban areas had purchasing power Starbucks wasn’t capturing. Schultz listened. They partnered. Johnson opened 125 Starbucks locations in neighborhoods where competitors assumed there was no market.
The locations thrived. Johnson eventually sold them in 2010 for a reported $75 million.
This wasn’t just business—it was strategic community investment. Johnson used his celebrity and capital to prove a market existed where others saw risk. He also owns Burger King franchises, movie theaters, 24 Hour Fitness gyms, and TGI Fridays locations. All totaled, his franchises serve over 32 million customers annually.
Magic Johnson Enterprises, his parent company, operates on a model of bringing established brands into communities that need economic development. The restaurants are part of a larger portfolio designed for long-term wealth building, not just celebrity branding.
Why Jordan’s Steakhouse Outlasted Every Other Athlete Restaurant Owner’s First Try
Jordan’s first restaurant—the 1993 sports bar—failed because it was a gimmick. Basketballs on the walls. Jordan references everywhere. Mediocre food. It felt like a tourist trap that happened to have his name on it.
The steakhouse, opened in 1998 in New York’s Grand Central Terminal, took a different approach. Jordan partnered with the Glazier Group and executive chef David Walzog. No sports memorabilia. No gimmicks. Just USDA Prime beef, 45-day dry-aged steaks, and a wine list serious enough to impress actual food critics.
Ruth Reichl’s review in the New York Times noted that the restaurant “found a way to capitalize on Mr. Jordan’s fame without jeopardizing his dignity.” That’s the key. The restaurant wasn’t banking on Jordan’s name to sell bad food. It was using his name to signal quality and then delivering on it.
The New York flagship closed in 2018, but locations in Chicago, Connecticut, Washington State, and South Korea remain open. The Chicago location reserves Table 23 for Jordan himself. If he shows up and you’re sitting there, you’ll be asked to move. But Jordan will comp your meal. Class move from someone who understands hospitality.
The steakhouse works because it’s fine dining first, Jordan branding second. The menu features prime cuts, wagyu meatballs, smoked beef tartare, and a cocktail program built around Cincoro—a premium tequila Jordan co-founded. The food stands on its own.
Why Most Athlete Restaurant Owners Fail Within Three Years
The sports bar graveyard is real. Mickey Mantle’s closed. The All-Star Cafe closed. Most athlete-branded restaurants don’t make it past five years.
The reasons are predictable: gimmicky concepts, mediocre food, reliance on name recognition instead of execution, absentee ownership, poor location choices, and underestimating how brutal the restaurant industry actually is.
Restaurants have razor-thin margins. Even successful ones operate on 3-5% profit margins. One bad quarter, one health code violation, one staffing crisis, and you’re underwater. Athletes used to guaranteed NBA or NFL salaries often don’t realize how punishing the economics are.
Kanye West’s Fatburger franchises closed. Montel Williams’s restaurants folded. Britney Spears’s Nyla restaurant lasted less than a year. These weren’t failures because celebrities can’t run businesses—they failed because running a restaurant requires daily operational excellence that most celebrities aren’t equipped to provide.
The exceptions are athlete restaurant owners who either buy proven franchises (Shaq, LeBron, Magic) or partner with experienced restaurant groups and hire world-class chefs (Jordan). There’s no middle ground where slapping your name on a menu and hoping nostalgia does the work actually succeeds.
The Most Successful Athlete Restaurant Owners:
Shaquille O’Neal – 155 Five Guys franchises, Papa John’s board member, Auntie Anne’s, Krispy Kreme, 7 Las Vegas restaurants
Magic Johnson – 125 Starbucks (sold for $75M), Burger King, TGI Fridays, 24 Hour Fitness, movie theaters
LeBron James – 19 Blaze Pizza locations, 10% company stake, investment worth tens of millions
Michael Jordan – Steakhouse chain (Chicago, Connecticut, Washington, South Korea), Cincoro tequila line
Venus Williams – 4 Jamba Juice locations in Washington D.C., tied to health advocacy work
Drew Brees – 5+ Jimmy John’s franchises in Louisiana (ate there since college)
Michael Strahan – 20 Burger King locations in Virginia (partnership with other athletes)
Hank Aaron – 20+ Popeyes Louisiana Chicken locations in Georgia, founded 755 Restaurant Corporation
The Difference Between Legacy and Business
Some athlete restaurant owners open restaurants because they want their name on something permanent. A building. A menu. A place people gather. That’s legacy thinking.
Others see restaurants as portfolio diversification. Cash flow. Real estate. Tax advantages. Wealth preservation after the contract money stops. That’s business thinking.
The best athlete restaurant owners blend both. Jordan’s steakhouse is legacy—a fine-dining experience that reflects his brand. But he also launched Cincoro tequila and licenses his name strategically. Magic’s Starbucks deal was business—proven franchise model, high-traffic locations, predictable returns. But it was also legacy—bringing economic opportunity to communities that needed it.
Shaq and LeBron lean business. They’re not trying to reinvent dining. They’re buying stakes in established brands, scaling through franchises, and building wealth that outlasts their playing careers. The restaurants aren’t passion projects. They’re chess moves.
The athletes who fail in the restaurant game are the ones who think their name is enough. That fans will come just because a jersey hung in the rafters once. Nostalgia gets you through opening weekend. Quality keeps you open for a decade.
What Survives After the Crowds Leave
There’s a Michael Jordan’s Steakhouse in Chicago. There’s no Mickey Mantle’s. There’s no All-Star Cafe. There’s no Britney Spears Nyla.
The difference isn’t fame. Mantle was a legend. The All-Star Cafe had backing from Planet Hollywood. Britney Spears had massive name recognition.
The difference is execution. The athlete restaurant owners who succeed treat restaurants like businesses, not vanity projects. Jordan partnered with people who knew how to run a restaurant and stayed out of the way. Shaq bought franchises with proven track records and let the system work. Magic identified underserved markets and brought established brands to them.
They either buy into proven systems or hire people who actually know hospitality. They understand that your name gets people in the door once. The food and service determine if they come back.
Opening a restaurant is easy. Keeping it open for 20 years? That takes more than a championship ring.
