Hockey’s pay-to-play system is failing Canada’s youth

One hundred thousand dollars.

This is roughly the cost of four years at Dalhousie University, two 2026 Toyota Hybrid Camrys, or a measly 54,000 medium coffees at Tim Hortons. 

This is also what the captain of Dalhousie’s men’s hockey team, Zak Smith, and his parents contributed financially to support his hockey career.

If that number wasn’t alarming enough, it’s merely the expectation for parents if they want their kids to have a shot at playing high-level hockey in Canada. 

“They gave up a large portion of their lives to help me live my dream,” says Smith. “They sacrificed so many weekends in the winters and the summers.” 

The average Canadian household has an income of $75,500, according to the most recent Statistics Canada survey in 2024. In Nova Scotia, one season of U13 rep hockey can cost up to 21 per cent of an average family’s yearly earnings. 

According to a 2023 report by Canadian Tire Jumpstart Charities, 44 per cent of Canadian parents said they cannot afford to register their children in organized sport. Similarly, a 2025 version of the report noted that 32 per cent of parents indicated stress about affordability.

So who gets to play?

The Canadian dream has traditionally been one of opportunity, and success is embedded in the nation’s fabric. 

However, in Canada, professional sports struggle to accurately represent the athletes who wish to play. The stories of thriving athletes are not always the ones that best reflect ultimate passion or drive, but rather ones of individuals who can afford to sustain their commitment. 

Hockey Canada’s age divisions begin at the U7 level, and local associations have the option to register players as young as four years old. This often marks the start of years of financial and emotional investment from the athlete and their parents. 

This was the case for Danny Walters, a forward for the Halifax Mooseheads, who says he owes his career to his parents.

“They were working non-stop to keep us happy … and provide for us,” says Walters. “They did such a phenomenal job getting [me] where I am now.” 

Walters has played hockey since he was three years old and, like Smith, also estimates he and his parents have spent roughly $100,000 on his hockey career.

Even if athletes could save enough to cover the immensely high participation costs, private coaches, gas and other travel costs leave a hole in parents’ pockets equal to thousands of dollars. These numbers increase substantially when factoring in off-season training expenses.

“A lot of people sacrifice hours at work to drive their kids to hockey,” says Smith. “There’s a lot of different costs that I don’t think people see.”

When these high costs dominate sports, it’s no surprise an unrealistic, toxic narrative emerges: the price is only worth it if you go pro. 

This suppresses the dreams of many willing children and lets the organized sports system keep operating as it does — prioritizing those who can afford it. 

In 2021, a government poverty analysis found the income gap between racialized and white Canadians sat at an average of $6,300. For families looking to put their kids into competitive sports, this number restricts the options available in a country where the average costs sit at $3,064.

The overwhelming lack of diversity is most apparent at the highest level of hockey. The 2026-27 NHL season includes 723 players —  less than 50 identify as people of colour. A sport directly influenced by Mi’kmaw traditions now has only four Indigenous players, and the number of Black players could fill a single 23-man roster. 

Rising costs, accompanied by a lack of representation, have created an athletic environment filled with exclusivity, going against everything that Canada should stand for. 

“Hockey is not a very diverse sport,” says Kristi Allain, an associate professor in the department of sociology at St. Thomas University, who specializes in research about winter sport and Canadian identity. 

“It’s one of the most expensive sports to play, and this is really emblematic of some of the problems with pay-to-play models and the increasing rationalization of sport that requires near-constant training.”

The pay-to-play system has proven to be an inaccessible process for many potential athletes, and the overarching issue is we aren’t seeing enough change from all links on the chain. 

Allain proposes that Canadians should challenge their policymakers and demand that the current funding model, which prioritizes elite-level sports over recreational sports, be changed to better support the general population.

“A system where children have valuable experiences, ones that translate into forms of physical competence that help them be successful and happy children … is a successful model of sports for me,” says Allain. 

“I don’t care if we win Olympic medals. That’s a national project, not one that serves most Canadians.” 

These essential changes are only possible by instituting legislation that reframes our system to be more equitable, more cost-efficient and ultimately more enjoyable for everyone. 

One example of a highly successful youth sports model lies in northern Europe. 

Norway has a population of just 5.68 million people — just 13.6 per cent of Canada’s — and yet their athletes are packed with talent. With a rising cohort of athletic superstars and more than 2 million citizens registered in national sports federations, questions linger about what we could learn from them. 

The Norway youth sports model holds the preservation of childhood enjoyment at its centre. Guided by the Children’s Rights in Sports framework, the system restricts the use of rankings in competitions and travel for athletes until they’re 11 years old. Financially, it aims to keep the annual cost for a young athlete under USD $1,000 or $1,400 Canadian per family. 

It may sound useless to give everyone a participation trophy and mandate they train at a developmentally appropriate level, but it works. Norway’s youth participation sits at  93 per cent — over 20 per cent higher than Canada’s. 

The Norwegian model shows Canadians what it would look like to put the child’s well-being before the price tag.

Jackie Oncescu, a professor of kinesiology at the University of New Brunswick, presents a different solution for Canada. Oncescu, who focuses on human-centred and system design approaches in community sport and recreation, believes one of the main flaws in our system is the lack of support for the families behind the athletes.

She says it makes it harder for parents to afford the hotels and travel needed for their child to play in tournaments, effectively reducing potential progression.

“The last thing [parents] can do is take the weekend off to go take their kid to a soccer tournament,” says Oncescu.

Ultimately, when a system depends on high financial resources, it sets up its participants to fail. As long as Canada continues to place financial obstacles in between its citizens and organized sports, fewer people will reap the benefits of physical activity, community and personal development. 

Those who make it to the next level will look around and find themselves embedded in a community of people just like them — a direct disservice to the foundations of the country they play for. 

“We’d have such a better country … if we centred community versus sport,” says Oncescu. “I just can’t imagine what sport would actually be.”