About
I started this work in 2017. The first thing I noticed was how transactional it all was.
Athletes were treated like interchangeable parts. Sign them, move them, sell them, replace them. But an athlete is a person, with dreams, goals, strengths, weaknesses, and a life that doesn’t fit in a spreadsheet. I couldn’t justify making a transaction out of human effort and human development then. I still can’t.
I know what’s on the line because I wanted it too. For years, my only dream was to walk into an Olympic stadium under my country’s banner. That’s what athletes carry. Not assets. Not data points. Human lives.
We Are Privateers exists to bring a shred of humanity back into sport. The name has changed along the way. The reason hasn’t. The “we” matters, because this work has never been mine alone.
In practice, that means walking alongside athletes in the sport and in the life that comes after it. It means supporting development where the talent has always been but the pathways haven’t, and standing up for athletes who have no one in their corner.
The through-line is the same each time. Build a real relationship. Care about the person. Help them stay themselves inside a system that would prefer they didn’t.
— Adam

My Story
I figured most of it out myself. That’s kind of the point.
I grew up in sport the way many athletes do, learning by doing. Track and field from Grade 3 through university. I never made it to the Olympic stadium, but I know how big that dream is, because I carried it.
I was never just training. I was studying: coaching methods, training philosophies, anything I could find. I didn’t have a roadmap, so I built one. Eventually I started coaching, and I never really stopped. Today I coach senior girls basketball and soccer at Clarence Fulton Secondary here in Vernon. It keeps me close to the thing this work is really about. A teenager trying to work out who she is, with sport as the place she’s doing it.
That instinct followed me everywhere. At 21, I founded a hydroelectric construction firm to hire and train Indigenous men and women who’d been left out of the labour force. As a Fellow with The DO School, I studied social entrepreneurship and sport for social development. I worked with organizations connected to the Homeless World Cup movement, and I founded Canispora Sports Society to get equipment and knowledge to sport-for-change groups across Southern Africa, including the Nyarugusu Refugee Camp. None of it was a straight line. All of it taught me how people build lives in places that weren’t built for them, and what sport can do beyond competing.
When I entered the international sporting world in 2017, I saw the system clearly, and I didn’t like it. Athletes pushed to their limits, then set aside when results dipped. Nobody asking who they were once the results stopped. So I built something else, on the belief that an athlete’s worth isn’t measured in medals but in who they are and who they’re becoming.
I do this work because I know what it feels like to navigate systems that weren’t built for you, and to need someone in your corner.
I didn’t always have that.
The athletes I work with do.

The Athlete-Centric Model
Most of the industry calls this athlete management, or being an agent. I don’t use those words. They describe someone managing an asset. I support a person.
The model is simple. Everything revolves around the athlete, because they’re the one competing and the one who needs support. Your job is to have their back and no one else’s interests in mind.
It sounds obvious. It has become forgotten knowledge.
In December 2024, the International Testing Agency invited me onto a global panel on the relationship between athletes and the people who support them. I was asked for the most important principle. I said trust. Without it, you don’t get the honest conversations the work depends on. The room’s response told me something. Plenty of people there had known this once, before the protocols and contracts buried it.
Trust gets built one way. You treat the person in front of you like a person. You learn their hopes, their goals, and who they are away from the competition. You stay when the results are good and when they aren’t. You answer the phone.
It also changes what matters. I want my athletes financially secure, and commissions are part of how this works. But they aren’t the end game. The better questions are how my athlete is doing right now, what they need that no one is giving them, and what life looks like alongside sport and after it.
That last question gets forgotten most. For many in this industry, the job ends when the career does. For me, that’s when it matters most. The goal is a transition that feels like a doorway rather than a cliff, with someone still there afterward.
Sport is increasingly reduced to data, rankings, and values. Data has its uses, but it can’t capture who someone is. That only comes from relationship. At the start, the Olympics were human against human. If that’s still what’s happening on the field, the support behind it should be human too, and not reserved for the few who already have the most.
I don’t get it right every time. But that’s the goal.


The Athlete-Centric Model
Most of the industry calls this athlete management, or being an agent. I don’t use those words. They describe someone managing an asset. I support a person.
The model is simple. Everything revolves around the athlete, because they’re the one competing and the one who needs support. A support person’s job is to have the athlete’s back and no one else’s interests in mind.
It sounds obvious. It has become forgotten knowledge.
In December 2024, the International Testing Agency invited me onto a global panel, translated into five languages, on the relationship between athletes and the people who support them. I was asked for the most important principle. I said trust. Without it, you don’t get the honest conversations the work depends on. The room’s response told me something. Plenty of people there had known this once, before the protocols and contracts buried it.
Trust gets built one way. A support person treats the athlete as a person. They learn the athlete’s hopes, their goals, and who they are away from the competition. They stay when the results are good and when they aren’t. They answer the phone.
It also changes what matters. I want my athletes financially secure, and commissions are part of how this works. But they aren’t the end game. The better questions are how my athlete is doing right now, what they need that no one is giving them, and what life looks like alongside sport and after it.
That last question gets forgotten most. For many in this industry, the job ends when the career does. For me, that’s when it matters most. The goal is a transition that feels like a doorway rather than a cliff, with someone still there afterward.
Sport is increasingly reduced to data, rankings, and values. Data has its uses, but it can’t capture who someone is. That only comes from relationship. At the start, the Olympics were human against human. If that’s still what’s happening on the field, the support behind it should be human too, and not reserved for the few who already have the most.
I don’t get it right every time. But that’s the goal.
What I Do
This isn’t a service you buy. It’s a relationship, and it asks something of both sides.
It takes time, because trust isn’t built in six months. It takes honesty about what’s working and what isn’t. It takes mutual investment: I show up for you, and you show up for the work. And it takes a willingness to be seen as a whole person, not just an athlete and not just a result.
I work with a small number of people, because that’s the only way to do this properly. You’re not a roster spot. You might be an athlete, a club, a federation, or a program trying to build something real. Either way, I’m there for the highs, the quiet stretches, the hard decisions, and the moments when the system goes silent.
The work moves between four areas, shaped by who you are and what you’re trying to do.
ATHLETE SUPPORT & CAREER PLANNING
This is the foundation. We build a plan around the whole person: performance and mental health, opportunity and protection, ambition and well-being. That covers competition planning, long-term strategy, and transitions between levels or countries. It isn’t a program. It evolves as you do, and it doesn’t pause when the season ends or the contract gets signed.
ATHLETE PROTECTION
Sometimes the system fails an athlete. Sometimes it was never built to protect them. When relationships with a federation or club turn difficult, when you’re overlooked or mistreated, when the people who were meant to be in your corner have gone quiet, I step in. I help you navigate the politics and the bureaucracy, and I stand with you when the right thing isn’t the easy thing. It’s messy and hard. It matters.
PATHWAY DEVELOPMENT
Whether you’re chasing Olympic qualification, a professional football career, or a different goal entirely, I help you build a route that lasts: finding opportunities, creating structure, and walking it with you through the setbacks and the grind no one sees.
I also work with the other side of that path, the smaller clubs, federations, and programs building infrastructure where there wasn’t any. I choose to work with the underdogs, whether that’s one athlete finding their way through a system not built for them, or an organization building a system where none exists.
LIFE AFTER SPORT
I don’t wait for a career to end before thinking about what comes next. From the beginning, we work on identity, purpose, and opportunity beyond the game, so the transition isn’t a shock. And when it comes, I’m still here. Your value doesn’t end with the final whistle, and neither does my job.
The Athletes I’ve Walked Alongside
Sára Mihalik — Sprint Kayak World Champion. European medalist.
Sára and I started working together when she had no major achievements yet. That’s important. This work isn’t about attaching to already-successful athletes. It’s about believing in someone’s potential and investing in the relationship long before the medals come. She uses the industry’s word for me below. Read what she actually describes, and you’ll see why I prefer a different one.
In her own words —
“I started working with Adam Favel at a time when I had no significant sporting achievements to my name. That alone says a lot about who he is as a manager and as a person: he doesn’t seek success by attaching himself to already successful athletes — instead, he helps humble, hard-working ones reach success through his genuine dedication and belief in their potential.
Despite living on the other side of the world (I was based in Hungary at the time, while he was in Canada), and despite the difficulty of finding sponsors in the sport of canoe sprint, Adam still managed to help me alleviate my financial challenges. Through his management, I was able to access equipment and nutritional supplements at discounted or no cost, and he also helped establish partnerships with organizations willing to provide financial support. But perhaps most importantly, he didn’t just “give me the fish” — he taught me how to “use the net.” He showed me how to manage and represent myself as an athlete, a skill that I continue to use even after retiring from professional sport. In that sense, he guided me through one of the hardest transitions any athlete faces: life after sport.
Even more valuable than his professional support was Adam’s unwavering human presence. From the very beginning of our cooperation to the end of my sporting career — and even beyond — he was always there. During the difficult seasons when even some of my coaches gave up on me, Adam stood by my side, helping me climb back to the top. He supported me quite literally around the clock, often during his own late-night or early-morning hours due to the time difference.
When I eventually decided to transfer from representing Hungary to competing for Finland, Adam once again played a key role. The process was complex and emotionally demanding, but he made it much easier — both by handling the administrative side of the transfer and by providing the emotional support I needed at that time. Thanks to his help, I was able to rise from one of the lowest points in my career and return to the World Championship podium.
In summary, Adam is not only an exceptional manager — organized, proactive, and resourceful — but also an extraordinary human being whose empathy and commitment make all the difference.”
— Sára Anna Mihalik
World Champion, Canoe Sprint and Marathon
Sára now works with Salzburg Global, bringing what she learned on the water into a whole new part of her life: the discipline, the resilience, the way of showing up. She made the leap that so many athletes dread, and she made it on her own terms. I couldn’t be prouder of her.
The relationship didn’t end when her competitive career did. That’s the point.

Blog
Sport is a human act before it’s a commercial one. The stories around it should be human too.
Here I write about sport, about culture, and about the places where the two collide, because they always do. Some pieces will make you pause. Some will just make you curious. All of them are written the way I’d tell them across a table.
If reading isn’t your thing, listen instead. Every piece also lives as audio under We Are Privateers on Spotify.
Ramblings of a Privateer
Before any of this, it was just me, writing. These are longer, slower pieces that take their time saying what they mean. I release them in Volumes, meant to be read start to finish rather than scrolled through.
Two Volumes are available now, with more on the way.
Get in Touch
If you’ve read this far, you know how I work and what I believe. The next step is a conversation.
I don’t have a script and I don’t do pitches. I’d rather hear who you are and what you’re trying to do, and work out together whether this fits. Every message comes to me personally, and I answer all of them, though it can take a few days during travel or competition windows.
Write if you’re:
- An athlete working out your next step
- A parent trying to make sense of what your child is going through
- A coach, club, or federation looking for someone in an athlete’s corner
- Someone who isn’t sure what kind of help you need, but knows you need some
I won’t always be the right person. Sometimes the fit is wrong, or the timing is, or the help you need lives somewhere else. If so, I’ll say so and point you toward someone better. The conversation costs nothing either way.
If you’re reaching out about mistreatment, abuse, or unsafe conditions, you’re not writing the wrong person. I’m not a legal service, but I take these situations seriously. I can offer support and strategy, and I can help connect you with the right people or organizations. Write directly to adam@weareprivateers.com and mark the subject line however feels right. I’ll respond personally.
If you or an athlete you know is in immediate danger or in crisis, please contact emergency services or a trusted mental health professional first. Then write to me too, if it would help.
I read every message myself. Take your time.