Scott Boras, His Missing Wallet With $2,300 Inside and a Poor Surf City Man Who Found It
The column leaves you wishing Chad Cronkite had a hard-ass, fulla himself, uncompromising agent representing himself against the agent some credit with ruining Major League Baseball.
|Photo by Jennie Warren/OC Weekly|
|Scott Boras shines his balls.|
The sports agent absent-mindedly left his wallet and Blackberry atop his car as he exited the restaurant parking lot onto PCH.
Cronkite, who manages apartments owned by his mother, was driving north on PCH before it bisects Bellflower Boulevard where he noticed an oversized wallet in the right lane.
"Cars were driving over it," he tells the columnist. "I immediately made a U-turn, and went back and picked it up."
All sorts of credit cards, a driver's license, a passport and $2,300 were still inside. So was a name Cronkite recognized. After all, Boras is famous/infamous for repping Alex Rodriguez, Mark Teixeira, Barry Zito, Manny Ramirez and many more top major leaguers, after all.
- The Boras Factor: Some fans and team officials think he's the devil. His player clients think he's an angel. Everyone agrees that super agent Scott Boras has changed baseball--but for better or worse? And what does he want now?
The apartment manager got on the Internet, looked up the phone number of Boras' Newport Beach offices and amazingly got through to someone. A couple hours later, Jeanette Boras, Scott's wife, came over to the Long Beach home of one of Cronkite's friends to pick up the wallet. Fully intact.
She offered nothing more than a thank you, and Cronkite did not expect any more than that.
Not that he couldn't use some dough. As Krikorian writes, Cronkite was a general building contractor disabled by severe arthritis. He and his wife were recently forced to sell the Long Beach home where they had resided for 30 years and relocate to the Huntington Beach apartment building he now manages.
Boras' personal assistant, Rachel Viglietta, tells Krikorian Cronkite was offered four Angel tickets and Diamond Club passes--including dinner--to a game of his choice, but she never heard back from him.
That's because, to Cronkite, four Angel tickets mean as much as a stupid Grammy. He's not a baseball fan. "Now if they had offered me USC football tickets," he tells Krikorian, "I'd have scooped them up."
Of course, a professional sports agent having unlimited access to USC football tickets would make the sanctions imposed on the Trojans in wake of the Reggie Bush scandal seem like an offside penalty in comparison.
Boras tells the sports columnist that Cronkite was offered a choice of the Halos passes or a financial reward. Cronkite insists no financial reward was offered to him. Krikorian ends by noting the found wallet made Boras richer and Cronkite no more so.