Everyone, it seems, wants a piece of the professional athlete. With his flashy moves on the field, his winning ways off it and a seemingly never-ending cash flow, he is hero, role model and Sugar Daddy all wrapped into one.

Yet professional athletes with rags-to-riches tales, those who manage to overcome long odds to emerge from troubled neighborhoods based on an ability to clock the 40 in sub-4.4 time or to hit a round ball with a round bat squarely, are finding that there are more hands held out in front of them than ever.

They are being asked for a little time, a little money. They are being asked to give back to a community that they might rather leave in their past.

Pressure, to be sure, can be applied to those who are slow to participate. No one, not even today's me-first athlete with the slightest hope of landing a lucrative endorsement deal, wants a poor pub for ignoring his roots, for failing to give back to a community he knows first-hand is so desperately in need of his help.

So they give back, even if it hurts to be coersed like some are.

Football was Marshall Faulk's ticket out of the Desire Housing Projects in New Orleans' downtrodden Ninth Ward. His uncanny ability to elude would-be tacklers was honed on the playgrounds near his home, led him to college, where he twice led Division I-A in rushing at San Diego State, and eventually to the NFL. Selected second overall by the Colts in the 1994 NFL Draft, he formed the Marshall Faulk Foundation and soon shared his new-found riches with local charities in Indianapolis. Later, after signing a lucrative seven-year contract with the Rams in 1999, he pledged $500,000 to fund charitable projects in St. Louis.

Still, Faulk came under considerable criticism for failing to fund similar projects in his hometown. Those who once gave Faulk a helping hand along the way, who kept him on the straight and narrow when he needed guidance the most, wondered aloud when he would came back and return the favor. When would he pay it forward, so to speak.

So in July 2000, he went back to New Orleans to make a $10,000 donation to the Desire Street Ministries. A modest, but welcome gift.

A year later, he was back in town with a $35,000 check for the restoration of St. Roch Park and Playground, where he played football as a child. The politicians and community leaders were pleased.

"I like to watch the way players carry themselves," New Orleans mayor Marc Morial said during a news conference that drew city councilmen, inner-city community leaders and local media attention. "Importantly today, here is a man who's giving something back, giving something back to the community that helped make him."

"It's taken me a while to find exactly what I wanted to do," Faulk told those gathered. "I didn't want to just come down here and do a football camp. ... I wanted to make sure that whatever it was I was going to do, that it was going to make an impact."

We here at ESPN.com are interested in your take. Is it fair to pressure athletes to give? And, ultimately, is there a greater onus on an athlete with a rags-to-riches background to give back to their old communities? Send us your comments by filling out the form below. Include your city, state/province and country, and click the "submit response" button.

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