Pay Dirt is Slate’s money advice column. Have a question? Send it to Kristin and Ilyce here. (It’s anonymous!)
Dear Pay Dirt,
I’m currently in university, where I play a sport at a very high level. I (and my coaches) expect that I will be drafted professionally less than a year from now. I have worked for this since I was a kid. But overshadowing the excitement is the stress about my dad, who has long looked forward to my professional career and the money that I will be earning.
He was very disappointed to find out that my college scholarships “just” paid for my education and living expenses and didn’t come with extra bonus cash that he could have (I was very relieved that the way my scholarships worked meant he couldn’t touch any of it).
But now that I will be getting a large check, I don’t know how I will be able to put up boundaries with it. I know that he feels entitled to some of the money I will get for raising me and paying my junior sports fees and buying uniforms for all my teams, etc., and I do get that. I hate feeling like I owe him anything anyway, and so I would like to get rid of this debt he thinks I owe him. But I also know that there will never be enough for him. He will expect me to pay him forever. I do not want to do this. Do you have any suggestions on how I might decide on a fair number that I “owe” him so that I can pay him that from my first checks and then tell him I’m not giving him any more money?
—Stressed Son
Dear Stressed Son,
I’m sorry you have to deal with such complicated family dynamics. But hear this loud and clear: You don’t owe your father a single dollar for raising you. Not even one cent. Raising a child—feeding them, housing them, driving them to practice, buying uniforms—is what parents are supposed to do. It’s not a loan. It’s not an investment with expected returns. Or a lottery ticket. It’s called parenting.
If it makes you feel better, you’re about to face something nearly every professional athlete encounters: the moment you sign that contract, family and friends crawl out of the woodwork demanding “their share” of your earnings. Your dad’s just getting started early. This is so common that financial advisors who specialize in professional athletes spend half their time helping clients set boundaries with entitled relatives.
Your instinct is exactly right: whatever you earn, whatever you give him will never be enough. You could write him a check for $100,000 and he’ll be back in six months asking for more.
Instead, set your dad and his financial demands aside while you focus on setting yourself up for success.
Here’s what you do: Before you sign anything or get that first check, build your financial team, including a financial advisor, attorney, accountant, and perhaps a business manager, all of whom specialize in professional athletes. Talk to your university coach about the situation and start putting together a list of professionals who can help. You can also talk with the university’s development and alumni teams, as they will be delighted to connect you with resources with the hope you’ll remember them fondly for a donation down the line. Once you sign with a team, many leagues have programs connecting rookies with vetted professionals who understand exactly this situation.
Your money won’t just come from your team salary; you’ll have endorsement deals and other income streams that, managed properly, can set you up for life. Your team will help you structure accounts your father cannot access and create ironclad financial boundaries.
That doesn’t mean your dad won’t ask you for money. He will, and when he does, say this: “Dad, I’ve hired professionals to manage my finances and ensure my long-term security. I’m not giving money to family members, including you. I’m sorry.” If you want to give him a gift occasionally, fine—but that’s your choice. He isn’t entitled to anything. Again, he’s your parent, not your agent.
You might consider finding a therapist who works with highly-accomplished people on their family dynamics. What your father is doing is financial abuse, and you’ll need support navigating it. Good luck, and let me know if you need more help.
—Ilyce
Classic Prudie
My partner and I have been essentially aunt and uncle to the two children of friends since their birth, and they are now young adults making their way in the world. One of them has a habit of dropping off communications radar—not responding to texts or messages—for fairly long periods of time, but popping up when they need something from us, like advice or a contact.