PSL Players Who Are Broke: The Harsh Reality Behind the Glamour

Behind the flashing lights, big stadiums, and social media stardom, lies a hidden and uncomfortable truth—many players in the Premier Soccer League (PSL) of South Africa are broke.

Despite signing lucrative contracts and living glamorous lifestyles during their peak playing days, a shocking number of former stars have ended up with little to their names.

Some are struggling to pay bills, while others have faded completely from the spotlight, trying to rebuild from financial ruin.

Football is often seen as a ticket out of poverty, and for many South African players, it is.

But what happens when that ticket runs out, and there’s no plan for life after the game?
The truth is, while a few PSL stars manage to build wealth and sustain it, others fall victim to poor money management, reckless spending, and lack of long-term planning.

And when the fame fades, so does the money.

One of the most heartbreaking examples is former Kaizer Chiefs midfielder Jabu Mahlangu, formerly known as Jabu Pule.

Once considered one of the most talented players in South Africa, Mahlangu’s career was marred by off-field issues.

Alcohol abuse, poor decision-making, and a flashy lifestyle drained both his reputation and his bank account.

Though he has since turned his life around and become a motivational speaker, Mahlangu has openly admitted in interviews that he went broke during his career and had to rebuild everything from scratch.

Another player who made headlines for financial troubles is Lerato Chabangu.

A former Bafana Bafana winger with stints at Mamelodi Sundowns and Moroka Swallows, Chabangu shocked fans when he revealed in a TV interview that he had gone from earning tens of thousands of rands a month to living off handouts.

He admitted that most of his money was spent on alcohol, parties, and trying to impress people who are no longer around.

Chabangu’s story serves as a powerful warning about the dangers of living for the moment with no financial structure in place.

The list doesn’t end there.

Ex-Orlando Pirates striker Thabiso “Skapie” Malatsi was once a rising star known for his speed and energy.

Today, very little is heard from him, and reports have suggested he too fell into financial hardship after retirement.

Many players, especially those who never secured overseas transfers or national team bonuses, find themselves without a safety net once their contracts end.

Some end up coaching at amateur level, while others disappear from the football scene entirely.

The PSL is not short on cash.

Top players can earn between R100,000 to R500,000 per month, not including bonuses and sponsorship deals.

So why do so many of them go broke?
Financial experts point to a mix of poor financial literacy, pressure to maintain a luxurious lifestyle, and lack of post-career planning.

Unlike in Europe, where players often have financial advisors and structured retirement programs, many PSL players are left to manage their money without guidance.

There is also the issue of “black tax”—a cultural reality in South Africa where successful individuals are expected to support extended family members financially.

While this practice is rooted in love and responsibility, it can quickly become unsustainable, especially if the player doesn’t set boundaries or manage expectations.

Add to that the pressures of fame, peer competition, and sometimes being exploited by friends and fake business opportunities, and the road to financial ruin becomes alarmingly short.

The lack of education also plays a big role.

Some players leave school early to pursue football and never return to complete their studies.

When their playing days are over, they struggle to find employment or start businesses because they lack the qualifications or skills.

A few attempt to open ventures, but without knowledge of business management, many of those initiatives fail.

In recent years, there has been growing awareness of this issue within the football community.

Organizations like the South African Football Players Union (SAFPU) have launched financial literacy programs and post-career support initiatives.

Clubs such as Mamelodi Sundowns and Kaizer Chiefs have reportedly begun offering counseling and business workshops to their players.

Still, the reach of these programs is limited, and often only the top-tier players benefit from such resources.

Another factor that leaves players vulnerable is the short duration of football careers.

Most professionals retire by the age of 35, and some even earlier due to injury or being released from contracts.

Without proper financial planning, players find themselves in their mid-30s without income, job skills, or direction.

The transition from fame to obscurity is often emotionally brutal, and mental health struggles frequently go unnoticed.

Fans often see the lifestyle—expensive cars, designer clothes, luxury vacations—and assume players are wealthy.

But what they don’t see is the debt, the pressure, and the lack of long-term security.

Some players take out massive loans to maintain appearances, not realizing that football money has an expiration date.

Others are victims of fraud, falling for investment scams or fake partnerships that promise high returns and deliver nothing.

Stories continue to emerge about players who now work regular jobs, live in modest homes, or are dependent on family after once being national heroes.

While there is no shame in working after football, the tragedy lies in how preventable many of these financial collapses are.

With better systems, education, and mentorship, more players could retire with dignity and stability.

The lesson is clear: talent may open doors, but wisdom keeps them open.

Football is a short-term career with the potential for long-term impact—but only if players use their earnings wisely.

As the PSL continues to grow and generate more money, it must also take responsibility for preparing its players for life beyond the pitch.

Until then, the stories of broke former stars will continue to haunt the game, reminding us that behind every goal scored and jersey worn, there’s a life that must be built, sustained, and protected long after the final whistle.