Players & Agents & Choices & Conflicts of Interest

Craig Paquette played parts of 11 years in the big leagues and earned over $8 million.  His agent at the beginning of his career was Scott Boras.  But after the 1997 season, Paquette chose to leave the agent some consider to be the most influential man in baseball over the past 20 years.  Why?  Why leave the guy whose only goal is to get the players he represents the biggest paycheck (im)possible?  Why leave the agent who strikes fear in GM's eyes and knows how to manipulate the rulebook and owners much in the way a beautiful woman can weave her way out of getting a speeding ticket by smiling at the State Trooper?

Because Scott Boras didn't have the time for Craig Paquette.

When an agent signs a player, both parties are generally focused on one subject: Money.  The agent wants to sign a guy he can squeeze the most money out of for the most years possible.  That's not a bad thing.  It's business.   From the player's perspective, he's looking for a guy who can get him the most money for the longest period of time.  Some players call this "security for my family."  But it's money.  That's the bottom line.  The agent and player want to break the bank.

Issues can arise.  In Paquette's case, he wasn't a big enough star.  He didn't put up A-Rod numbers.  He hit some home runs, but injuries had limited his output.  By 1997, Scott Boras wouldn't return Paquette's phone calls, leaving that job to his assistants.

Economists call this "Opportunity Cost."  Opportunity Cost is, basically, when you can't be in two places at one time.  So you choose one thing at the expense of the other.  Boras chose to spend his personal time on clients that would bring in more dollars for his company.  Paquette wasn't meeting the expectations either party had at the time they signed a contract together.  So Boras eventually focused on his other clients who had more potential to break the bank than Craig Paquette.

Here's where a second issue arises, one that former pitcher Brian Boehringer often rails about: Players can only have one agent at a time.  But agents not only have multiple players at one time, they can have signed multiple players who play the exact same position.  Boehringer's point is that if an agent has two similar players - be they Cy Young Award winners or bench guys, and those players are both free agents at the same time, how can the agent represent both players?  In effect, the players are not only competing on the field and competing for a contract in the open marketplace, they're also competing for the time and focus of the agent.  Boehringer believes this conflict of interest should be regulated, or at least looked into by the Players Association.  He says he tried.  But, as Boehringer asserts, since he wasn't an Alex Rodriguez or Derek Jeter, the kind of guy who can be the face of baseball, the Players Association didn't react to Boehringer's request.

Now the agent is going to deny there's a conflict of interest.  He'll talk about his fiduciary duty to his client, stating he's actually putting the interests of his clients above his own.  And, from his perspective, he's probably trying to do that.  An agent's job is to get his clients jobs, first and foremost.  If he can arrange some endorsements, he's more than happy to do that too.  But first, he's got to get his stable of players signed.  It's not easy.  The player thinks the agent just picks up the phone, does some sweet talking, maybe sets up a meeting between GM and players, and the deal is done.  But there's more to it than that.  Much more.

The agent needs to do his research.  He needs to know every statistic from his client's offensive and defensive output.  Than he needs to understand the statistics of other similar players and understand the length and size of those contracts.  Then he needs to find a fit for that player among 30 teams.  This involves phone calls and emails and more phone calls and lots of waiting for some Assistant GM to call back and say they're "waiting for a market to shape" for a particular player.  More phone calls and research and emails, plus throw in some 5-hour flights.  Multiply this times the number of players a guy has, plus the personal needs of not only the anxious unsigned player, who keeps calling asking for an update, and the personal needs of those high maintenance clients who are always complaining about something.  Can you see what the agent has to deal with? 

The player thinks only about himself, as he should.  The agent thinks about the player, but also thinks about the other players he represents and the other players he wants to represent.  One brain isn't always enough.  So sometimes, a guy like Craig Paquette falls down a few notches.  He's not given all of the attention he wants.  And he eventually bails on the agent.

In Paquette's case, he bailed on Boras and started using Dave Meier, a former player who became a player agent (recommended to Paquette by Harold Reynolds).  Paquette then signed a contract with the Mets, one he, in retrospect, didn't think he should have signed.  But after switching agents, he felt he had to jump on the first thing he could get.  The Mets offered him $300,000 and he took it.

Meanwhile, there was a team that wanted him - the St. Louis Cardinals.  But they couldn't get in touch with him while he was between agents and/or couldn't get in touch with him when he had an agent.  The Mets traded Paquette to St. Louis at the 1998 trading deadline and the first thing coach Dave McKay said to Paquette was, "Where've you been?  We've been trying to sign you for the last two years and we couldn't figure out what was going on."

Paquette was finally where he belonged.

But...

The story doesn't end there.  Paquette blossomed in St. Louis.  He hit lots of home runs and became the player he believed he could be.  After the 2001 season, he wanted at least a two-year deal and $5 million.  "Baseball money" he called it.  The Cardinals offerred "barely" what he'd made the year before, "when I felt I'd had a great season."  The Detroit Tigers offered "something that I was looking for."  So Paquette left for the money.

And in hindsight, he realizes today he never should have left.

His time in Detroit was a mess.  He was excited to play under Phil Garner, who got fired after 6 games.  But the new manager, Luis Pujols, came aboard and literally didn't know what position Paquette played.  All the fans did was "boo us everytime we went on the field."

The team was horrible, getting worse.  After one season and one month, he was released.  While his contract was guaranteed, playing time on a baseball diamond was not.  He called St. Louis back.  They offered him a minor league deal.  He took it, with the stipulation that if he didn't get called up in 14 days, he'd leave. 

The 14 days came and went.  Paquette packed up and went home.  Ironically, on Day 15, he would have been called up when an injury to Fernando Vina opened up a spot.  But Paquette had already chosen to go home.  His days wearing a Major League Baseball uniform as an active player were over.

It's the choices players and agents make, together and on their own, that determine the fate of a player's career.  From both perspectives, all these guys want to do is succeed.  Get the deal, get the money, and pop the champagne cork.  Only sometimes the champagne doesn't taste as good as expected.  That's not just baseball, that's the baseball life.