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The hidden cost of athletic glory

Carson Hamill’s dad never complained when he rousted him and his younger brother, Zach, in the wee hours of the morning to get to hockey practice by five or six a.m.
Carson Hamill
Financial advisor Carson Hamill earned an athletic scholarship to play hockey at a U.S. university, and his brother, Zach, was drafted into the NHL, but their parents had to put a lot of their own financial goals on hold to help them get there.

Carson Hamill’s dad never complained when he rousted him and his younger brother, Zach, in the wee hours of the morning to get to hockey practice by five or six a.m.

When they needed new sticks, or new skates, the money was always there, as it was for trips to tournaments and extra coaching.

The Hamill brothers were chasing their hockey dreams. They were oblivious to the price of that pursuit. And it’s not like their parents were going to let family finances stand in the way of those aspirations.

“It’s like an iceberg,” said Hamill, whose play in the BC Hockey League earned him a scholarship to Lindenwood University in St. Louis, Mo., where he completed a degree in International Business. “You don’t see all the work, effort and financial burden.”

That burden can come in unexpected ways, said Heather Austman, whose daughter, Larkyn, is one of three Canadians competing in women’s figure skating at the 2018 Winter Olympics in Pyeongchang, South Korea, this week. Her self-employed husband, Leonard, had to take five weeks off work when Larkyn skated at the Canadian national championships in Vancouver in January, then accompanied her to a special training camp in Colorado Springs for two weeks, and now as the family is in South Korea to cheer her on.

Add that lost income to hard expenses like $900 for a pair of custom skate boots and $600 for the blades, fees for ice time, year-round private coaching, a choreographer, dance teacher, and fitness trainer, the cost of physiotherapy, massage, as well as a chiropractor to deal with the aches and pains brought on by intense training, plus costumes, travel and the services of a sports psychologist; it’s little wonder the Austman’s have lived in the same Coquitlam house for 30 years, put off renovations and big holidays.

“We don’t live an extravagant life,” Austman said. “We live humbly because this is what we do. When you have kids, you live your life for them.”

It’s a powerful instinct, but one that can have implications years after the kids have left home, said Hamill, who’s now a financial advisor with a special interest in working with families of competitive athletes. Parents will put off saving for their retirement or dip into inheritances to fuel their kids’ athletic ambitions, they’ll use emergency funds for new equipment, often without a second thought.

“You have to have a plan,” Hamill said. “You have to balance your needs with your kids’ desires.”

But it’s not always easy once you’re on the competitive sports’ treadmill, Austman said.

“When you get in this deep, you can’t say ‘I’m sorry, we’re done,’” she said. “When you keep climbing the ladder, you just go with it.”

But very few kids ever reach the top of the ladder, be it the Olympic Games, a pro contract or an athletic scholarship.

Hamill cautions parents should never think their financial investment in their kids’ sporting ambitions will have a payoff at the end. In fact, he said, investing money in an RESP instead of spending it on private coaching or tuition at a sports academy to push their kid further up the competitive ladder can be used to create a self-funded scholarship, while their kids continue to enjoy their athletic pursuits with less pressure.

“Families have to educate themselves,” Hamill said. “They have to learn about the athletes who don’t make it.”

For even those few athletes who do achieve their dream, the reality may fall short of expectations. Scholarships may not cover all the expenses of living and studying away from home, and they can be withdrawn if the student-athlete doesn’t live up to academic or athletic expectations. Pro contracts are often short, offer little security.

While Hamill’s brother, Zach, was drafted by the Boston Bruins in the 2007 NHL entry draft, he played only 20 games with the team over the course of three seasons. Mostly he knocked around the minor leagues, from Providence to Hershey to San Antonio to Milwaukee to Utica before he headed to Europe where he’s played for seven teams in six different leagues in six years.

“It’s a very uncertain career path,” Hamill said.

Even Olympians have to think about the years between Games and those following the end of their competitive careers, said Austman.

While Larkyn’s ascent to Canada’s national team will provide a level of funding, it won’t cover all her athletic expenses, let alone the cost of just living her life.

“When this is all done, she’ll have to figure out how to create some buzz,” Austman said. “We’ll have to explore possibilities for her to earn the income to support what she does.”

 

Angel investor helps Olympic dream

Larkyn’s Austman’s fourth-place finish at the 2017 Canadian national skating championship put a spot on Canada’s Olympic team for the 2018 Winter Games in Pyeongchang tantalizingly close — if only she could improve her standing at the 2018 nationals by one position.

But to achieve that the Coquitlam skater knew she’d need more intensive coaching, perhaps another trip to a high-performance training camp in Colorado Springs where she could work with world-class coaches and other athletes. Those don’t come cheaply, so last summer she launched a GoFundMe page to raise money.

The online crowdsourcing effort brought in several thousand dollars, but not nearly enough. More importantly, though, it caught the attention of Google.

That’s how Horatio Kemeny found her.

The North Vancouver tech entrepreneur and film producer was searching online for a private skating instructor for his daughter, Sophia, when he started reminiscing about the 2010 Winter Games in Vancouver and wondering who might be representing Canada at this year’s Olympics. He stumbled upon Austman’s fundraising site which was far short of its $25,000 goal.

Kemeny called a family meeting to poll his wife and kids about the idea of financially supporting Austman’s Olympic dream.

“What’s involved in taking the absolutely the best shot at this?” Kemeny posted on his Facebook page.

The money Kemeny contributed helped send Austman to Colorado Springs to take her skating to the next level.

“That was the turning point of her season,” said Heather Austman, Larkyn’s mom. “Those are the kinds of things we would never have been able to do.”