The life of a soccer agent more grind than glamour
A soccer agent’s life can be glamorous, but mostly it’s a lot of scrambling, hard work and travel
Jordan (not his real name) stood on a dock festooned with chandeliers and lined with couches, admiring the twinkling lights across the expansive Bosphorus river where the European side of Istanbul shimmered under the stars.
The floating dock was the outside extension of one of the hottest clubs in Turkey’s largest city, the exclusive VIP lounge populated by beautiful women, young men in tight shirts and tailored suits, and a certain Brazilian soccer superstar. It was a opulent scene that could have been lifted straight from Dwayne Johnson’s miniseries, Ballers.
Jordan, a soccer agent, had met some friends there, and had no idea who would be joining his party: A smiling, joking, cigarette chain-smoking, Roberto Carlos.
“I was like ‘this is not happening,’” he said. “I’ll never forget it, man Looking at Europe from Asia, and smashing beers with Roberto Carlos. Who does that, right?”
The glitz, the glamour, it all fits the public perception of what a soccer agent’s life is like.
And it can be.
But for other agents, nights at four-star nightclubs are replaced by the mundane. Endless kilometres disappearing beneath the rolling wheels of your rental cars. Hours spent on the phone playing therapist for a distraught, drunk or disenfranchised player. Finding apartments — then finding another one in another city, after a client is unexpectedly sold. Vetting accountants and financial advisers. Booking family vacations or a restaurant reservation. Or even just changing their player’s flat tire.
The world of soccer agents is frequently described as a murky one, where whalesized sharks eat the minnows. They span the spectrum from money-sucking leeches to savvy negotiators to mentors and life managers, and sometimes a combination of them all.
Several agents in different markets were contacted for this story, and all chose to speak on the condition of anonymity, to allow them to speak freely. Their backgrounds are varied: former players, teachers, business owners, but all play their cards close to the chest, lest another agent swoop in and snake their client.
The corruption among player intermediaries in the top-flight European markets is well-documented.
Rui Pinto, a Hungarian hacker who ran Football
Leaks, shook the foundations of the soccer world with his contract revelations, including information that led to the transfer ban for Premier League giants Manchester City.
Sam Allardyce was infamously sacked as England manager after a sting operation by the Daily Telegraph newspaper, where he was recorded discussing with a fake players agency how to get around the FA ban on third-party player ownership.
Premier League agent Giuseppe (Pino) Pagliara was convicted in January of soliciting and accepting bribes in “order to gain influence in the selection, management and ownership of players.”
In another sting filmed by the Telegraph, he claimed to have given Sir Alex Ferguson a $36,000 Rolex to fix a Manchester United match, and said former Chelsea manager Antonio Conte had asked him “for a little coffee” — a payment to smooth a player transaction.
“We become millionaires by gentleman’s agreements,” he told undercover reporter Claire Newell in the sting.
“I don’t want to say it’s agents, it’s the industry. So the dark side is, everybody’s hustling. A lot of deals don’t get done because you know certain … parts of the deal aren’t becoming lucrative for that person,” said one agent.
“So, a deal falls through, when it really would have been maybe a good deal for the player. I didn’t see it in MLS, but in Europe — like the Premier League — oh my God, you see how corrupt it is. If certain people in clubs aren’t getting what they want, then they won’t take the deal. It’s that kind of stuff.
“The stigma around agents is so bad, but it’s like any career or any job. There’s really good ones that work their ass off … (who are) on their phones 24/7 making calls, trying to get new deals. And then there’s just people that are absolutely useless.”
For every mega agent like Jorge Mendes hauling in millions as Cristiano Ronaldo’s rep, there is a John Smith trying to make ends meet working for a large agency with no base salary, and meagre commission. FIFA allows agents up to 10-per-cent commission — higher than all North American sports (MLB, five per cent; NHL/NBA four per cent; NFL three per cent) — with Forbes reporting the top 50 agents averaging around US$68.2-million per year.
But only two per cent of players, according to a FIFPro report of 14,000 players across 54 countries and 87 leagues, make more than US$720,000 per year. In fact, 45 per cent surveyed made under less than $1,000 per month, with the median net monthly salary ranging between $1,000 to $2,000.
That’s not a lot of fat left on the bone for agents to make a living off of, especially in the MLS, Canadian Premier League and United Soccer League ladder.
“In the North American market, you’re eating peanuts. Absolutely peanuts,” said one agent. “It would be so hard to sustain economically. The only way to do it, economically, is to work for one of the big companies.
“And you’re working your ass off to pull in clients, supporting them and hoping that they make it, while you’re given a pittance ... and the rest is siphoned off into the company. It’s like a pyramid scheme — you’ve got to buy in, work your way up. It’s a very, very, very difficult market to get into.”
The massive geographical region in North America also makes it challenging to be an effective and available manager, with most contact done by phone, email or the industry’s lifeblood — WhatsApp.
In Europe, not only is it home to the most lucrative leagues, they are all in close proximity. One agent based in Germany doesn’t have to go outside a three-hour driving radius of his home, and save for the occasional overnight or bimonthly trip to the U.K., is able to take his children to school and get home in time to pick them up every day.
“We have an office, but … my office is in the car. But I see my son more than if I had a straight, normal job,” he said.
He works on contract with a mid-level agency, with his cars, phones and travel all paid for. The pressure is on him to find, sign and support players to his company, and doing that also requires him to project a certain image.
“You have to have swagger. It’s really, really, really important,” he said. “I don’t like that. I don’t want to have to wear a Rolex. Sorry, I just don’t. And when I go out to certain things, (my boss) puts a Rolex in my hands, gives me his (Audi) A7 sports package and says ‘No, you don’t go in your family SUV. In a business like this, you need to be very, calm, very confident — not cocky — but confident.
“It’s like Texas Hold ‘Em. If you have good cards, doesn’t mean s**t if you don’t have a good bag of chips, you know? And my stack of chips, it’s my clientele. I have a client base, and I have a decade of market knowledge. And I’m good at it.”
From the club side, agents can either be a valuable resource or a nuisance. In MLS, most player representatives are there for the initial signing, then submerge until the next contract or deal is done, at which point they resurface.
“I call them ‘Submarine Agents,’” joked Whitecaps sporting director Axel Schuster.
The scourge of the industry is the deal broker; agents who have no connection to either party. They’ll contact a player, saying a club has expressed interest, then contact the club, saying the player has expressed interest, then usher the deal all the way through to the bargaining table, where they demand a cut of the commission.
“For me, they’re like wedding crashers,” said Schuster. “These are the agents who only try to get money by connecting people who might connect anyways. This part has become more popular and makes (my) work tough.”
Hundreds of emails will hit Schuster’s desk every day with agents claiming to represent a player, which he will generally ignore. He has a short list of agencies he’s worked with in the past, and usually provides them with an profile of what he’s looking for, or will even ask them about a player who might be a teammate of one of their clients.
If he likes what he hears or is presented with, he’ll contact the player directly to find out exactly who his rep is.
MLS has been a different experience for the former FC Schalke director, with its centralized league structure. There’s no crazy asks that are common overseas, like fivestar hotel rooms, unlimited business class flights for family, jobs for their spouses, or just straight-up kickbacks.
“In the world I was before, it was more Wild Wild West. No one will stop you paying the player $100 a year and the agent $500 a year,” he said. “If some agent comes and says ‘I want to have 20 per cent,’ I can tell you ‘That’s nice. Our business is done already, because the MLS won’t allow it.’
Being a player rep is tough, but it’s rewarding, and, of course, lucrative, if you can find success.
“I didn’t want to be an agent,” said Jordan, a former player. “I didn’t think it would ever be possible. I didn’t study for it. And I took this up because it presented itself, and that’s what life does. And it’s great. It’s a bloody fantastic job.”