The People You See in Every Star Athlete's Crew

Not to be mistaken with a real financial advisor or accoutant, which many star athletes somehow fail to employ. This member of the crew has sway over much of the athlete's purchasing decisions, which poses its own problems. Although he may earn brownie points for talking the athlete out of dropping a few K on a $3,000 shearling-lined Rick Owens bomber jacket in the summer, it's important to remember his own intentions. Every member of a star athlete's crew is trying to somehow get themselves ahead by using their new BFF—if talking your boy out of buying a $3,000 jacket leads to that money being spent on the table during a night out or in the pockets of a friend for an investment on the side, then it's in that person's best interests to drive the money from the athlete's wallet to his. It always happens too.

This "friend" is the most dangerous person in the crew. He always asks for money for dumb investments like restaurants with liquor licenses, car washes, clothing lines, record companies and about 10 different start-up apps. He will be a star athlete's biggest expense, all while providing a negative ROI. The star athlete gets tricked into helping this friend with money though, because he sees the business proposals as a concerted effort to get the horse to drink. That clouded judgement blinds him to the fact that 1) the ideas are bad, 2) they're costing a few car notes worth of money, and 3) what the fuck does a shithead friend know anything about running a restaurant or programing an app? These types of investments are high-risk and high-reward, and should be handled by, um, people with experience in those industries.

Is he a cousin? An uncle? An actual brother from possibly another mother since he doesn't look anything like the athlete but nobody's really questioned it? There's always one Random Family Member in the crew. During Thanksgiving or Christmas growing up, he was always around making himself at home, playing games—being a real family member. It's important for fam to take care of fam, so having this guy around eases those concerns, and gives the star athlete a potential liason to the rest of the family he doesn't want to know but keeps asking for cell phone bill money.

This person is the most indispensable crew member in 2014, and there's no debating that. When the ACL pops and all the money dries up, every athlete will still have their image to maintain and groom. That's why Terrell Owens is starring in fast food commercials despite being out of the NFL since 2010 (yeah, it's been that long). One soundbite can rule an entire cycle of SportsCenter, and the publicist wants to get that spot, the lead topic on Pardon the Interruption, and a trending topic on Twitter. The game is so multi-faceted for publicists today—there are so many platforms to cover and obstacles to overcome—that publicists need to basically be the Olivia Pope of their shit if they want to win.

It's this person's job to know what's cool, and what's not. It sounds simple, but to know cool, you actually have to be cool, which is like the most difficult part of being a human ever. It's important for the star athlete to think freely and act on his tastes, but sometimes his tastes are just wrong. Like Kevin Durant picking The Blueprint 2 as his favorite rap album, or Cristiano Ronaldo dressing like the pool boy/part-time yoga coach who's Eskimo Brothers with Rafi, star athletes need this person in their lives to avoid these mishaps. Shame on whoever in Russell Westbrook's crew missed the cold pressed juices thing—LeBron's wife is on it.

When shit pops off, the bodyguard is the first, and usually only necessary line of defense. He's so big that actual violence is never needed to defuse a dispute—a bit of flexing and grunting from the bodyguard should do the trick. Bodyguards also double as an important linchpin for any night out on the town, since they have to be sober (hopefully, that's the case at least). Who needs Uber when there's a DMV-approved, Andre the Giant sized man with stick-shift driving skills in tow? Packing heat is optional, but given the seemingly endless waves of athletes getting in trouble with guns, it's not advisable by any means.

If any athlete decides to own a registered gun, it's better left in the hands of a trained bodyguard. Problem is, that decision to own a gun could really mean, "I'll ask my family member or friend to get me one, and then let some dude in my crew carry it just because." Next thing you know, someone gets shot in front of you, the gun turns out to be unregistered, and your career is over. Oops. In addition to gun(s), the Illicit Materials Carrier will hold drugs (for recreational and performance puposes), under-the-table cash, and anything else the star athlete wants to keep around but can't be caught with. In the case of some athletes, this job also involves carrying extensive sneaker collections from city-to-city.

Also known as a manager. He's the brains of the entire operation. He's seen the star athlete come up from a dirt poor country backroad to become part of the American athletic cultural elite. He's been there every step of the way for good and bad, so even if he's not the brightest or best choice to be a manager, there's a level of trust between this person and the athlete that's almost impossible to break. Even though the athlete is the one pulling in all the checks, handling the fame, and physically performing in an extremely difficult profession, the well-being of the entourage rests in the hands of this guy. The athlete may have a strong say in some matters, but in reality, the best friend/manager is the one deciding what deals should be taken, if acting/singing/rapping is a viable second career, what community outreach programs would be a good look, what should and shouldn't be tweeted, and whether pepperoni or italian sausage should be the primary pizza topping. (It's always pepperoni.)

Very important player here. He's working for that money. Unlike most of the crew, who only eats the star athlete's scraps, the agent is the one killing the cow. He's picking and slaughtering that sucker so everyone, including himself, can eat like it's a 12th century Medieval banquet. We're talkin' fixings, goblets of wine, and multiple whole roasted animals, plus desert. If the agent can't provide that, then he's not providing for himself. He and the lifelong best friend/manager will naturally come to blows a few times—the agent wants to maximize earnings, while the lifelong best friend/manager will be working to protect his ride-or-die—but otherwise, the agent is key to finding on and off court success.

The outsiders. The drifters. The guys who only show up with you to clubs or parties. The hangers-on come and go at their leisure/when they've leeched all they can, and the star athlete may not even know their names. But through a friend of a friend of a cousin, they end up in the entourage when the lights are bright and the bottles are flowing freely. An essential part of any crew that wishes to be formidable in size and in bar tabs amounts.