Unfortunately for Williams, the NBA-related organizations best suited to help him have closed their checkbooks to him. The NBA Legends Foundation, which awarded him grants totaling more than $10,000 in 1996 and 2004, denied his recent request for help. So did the NBA Retired Players Association, which in the past year gave him two grants totaling $2,000.

“When I played the game, they always talked about loyalty to the team,’’ Williams said. “Well, where’s the loyalty and compassion for ex-players who are hurting? We opened the door for these guys whose salaries are through the roof.’’

One thing Williams especially wants them to know: Unlike many troubled ex-players, he has never fallen prey to drugs, alcohol, or gambling.

Williams, 55 and diabetic, wants the titans of today’s NBA to help take care of him and other retirees who have plenty of time to watch games but no televisions to do so. He needs food, shelter, cash for car repairs, and a job, and he believes the multibillion-dollar league and its players should treat him as if he were a teammate in distress.

“Ray is like many players who invested so much of their lives in basketball,’’ said Mike Glenn, who played 10 years in the NBA, including three with Williams and the New York Knicks . “When the dividends stopped coming, the problems started escalating. It’s a cold reality.’’

A former top-10 NBA draft pick who once scored 52 points in a game, Williams is a face of big-time basketball’s underclass. As the NBA employs players whose average annual salaries top $5 million, Williams is among scores of retired players for whom the good life vanished not long after the final whistle.

“They say God won’t give you more than you can handle,’’ Williams said in his roadside sedan. “But this is wearing me out.’’

Williams, a generation removed from staying in first-class hotels with Larry Bird and Co. in their drive to the 1985 NBA Finals, mostly wonders how much more he can bear. He is not new to poverty, illness, homelessness. Or quiet desperation.

The 10-year NBA veteran formerly known as “Sugar Ray’’ leans back in the driver’s seat, drapes his legs over the center console, and rests his head on a pillow of tattered towels. He tunes his boom box to gospel music, closes his eyes, and wonders.

POMPANO BEACH, Fla. — Every night at bedtime, former Celtic Ray Williams locks the doors of his home: a broken-down 1992 Buick, rusting on a back street where he ran out of everything.

Charles D. Smith, an NBA veteran who heads the retired players association, said Williams has not taken advantage of efforts to help him find work.

“You can only do so much for any one player because there are a lot of guys who need help,’’ Smith said. “Ray needs to let us help him help himself.’’

Problems in transition Hall of Famer Bob Cousy, who helped create the Legends Foundation and serves as a director, understands the financial pressures squeezing many NBA retirees. Cousy himself auctioned his NBA memorabilia in 2003 to help support his daughters and grandchildren. As for Williams, Cousy said, the Legends Foundation generally limits former players to two financial grants. Hall of Famer Bob Cousy, who helped create the Legends Foundation and serves as a director, understands the financial pressures squeezing many NBA retirees. Cousy himself auctioned his NBA memorabilia in 2003 to help support his daughters and grandchildren. As for Williams, Cousy said, the Legends Foundation generally limits former players to two financial grants.

“If a client comes back a third time, he needs to make a very compelling case,’’ Cousy said. “Ray just hasn’t done that.’’

The rejections angered Williams. He said he wants to work but needs transportation to reach a workplace.

“I’m in the middle of an emergency, and they’re going to turn their backs on me?’’ he said. “How about all these [NBA] guys with big contracts? Are they going to help?’’

Times have changed since Williams joined the NBA. As the 10th overall pick in 1977 out of the University of Minnesota — he played there with Kevin McHale — Williams signed a four-year, $500,000 contract with the Knicks. He received no significant endorsements.

By contrast, 19-year-old Brandon Jennings, the 10th pick last year, received a two-year, $4.5 million contract with the Bucks after landing a $2 million deal with Under Armour and playing a season in Italy for $1.65 million.

Jennings earned more in his first two years as a professional than Williams made over a decade. After Williams led the Knicks in scoring (16.8 points a game) over his first four years in the league, he signed his richest deal — a three-year, $1.5 million contract with the Nets in 1981. But his production declined after the deal expired, and he retired in ’87 without a college degree or professional skill.

A generation later, Williams has little more than memories to show for running NBA floors with the likes of Bird, Magic Johnson, and Michael Jordan.

“Ray is like a lot of us who had trouble maintaining our pride and dignity in new environments after we left professional sports,’’ said the Reverend Woody Bennett, a former NFL running back who has supported Williams.