Travis Kelce's charity raised $1.5 million — kids got $446,000, and the bigger check went somewhere much closer to home
I regret to inform you that we need to talk about a spreadsheet.
Specifically, the tax filings of Eighty-Seven and Running, the foundation Travis Kelce founded in 2015 to help underserved kids — a genuinely lovely mission attached to some genuinely eyebrow-raising math.
The Numbers, Which Are Doing a Lot of Talking
From 2021 through 2024, the foundation reported raising about $1.5 million and spending roughly $1.1 million. Of that spending, around $446,000 went to charitable programs. About $469,000 went to management.
Yes, you read that right. The management line item beat the kids.
That works out to roughly 41 cents of every spent dollar reaching actual charity, which is well below what watchdogs consider acceptable. And here's the part that makes it spicy: a chunk of those management dollars flowed to A&A Management Group, a firm co-founded by Kelce's longtime business managers, brothers Aaron and André Eanes. Aaron Eanes also happens to be the foundation's executive director. The nonprofit has just two board members and no president, secretary, or treasurer, which is less "board of directors" and more "group project where two people showed up."
CharityWatch executive director Laurie Styron did not mince words after reviewing the filings: "That's not how charities work. It's wrong."
The Defense Rests (On an Accounting Error)
Eanes' explanation is that the foundation misclassified expenses on its tax forms for nearly a decade — that operational costs tied to charitable work got filed under management, and corrections are coming. "The (management) costs covered the necessary operational infrastructure for the foundation to operate effectively," he said, adding that management fees dropped to zero in 2025.
Over the foundation's full lifespan, the ratio looks better — about 56 cents per dollar to charity — and no one is accusing anyone of anything criminal. Kelce himself is a three-time Walter Payton Man of the Year nominee whose community work is real.
But "trust me, the paperwork was just wrong for ten years" is a defense that works a lot better when your executive director isn't also your business manager whose firm was on the receiving end. Fame is not a substitute for a treasurer. Someone get this man a third board member.
