An open letter to Scott Boras

Courtesy: Deadspin
The only power baseball fans should fight is this guy’s.

Dear Mr. Scott Boras,

We don’t know each other personally, nor do I have any predilection to do so. Not that I couldn’t use just one of your paltry commission checks to send my children to college. Twice. But it’s simply that…well, how do I put this delicately…you suck.

Now, I don’t mean that literally, as in a lemon through a leaf blower, but more metaphorically as in “Scott Boras is absolutely terrible for this great game of baseball.”

And this just isn’t my opinion. You see, I’ve asked around. I have done research. I have read articles. And without equivocation, no one likes you. Shoot, half of your clients don’t like you. If they could put your salesmanship ability into one of those cheap blow-up dolls at an adult store, they would.

I’m sure you are proud of yourself with your heinous contracts and holding owners hostages with their superstars. And why not? Greg Maddux was the first $50-million in baseball. Kevin Brown was the first $100-million man. And then, A-Roid stole $200-million from the Rangers. All your doing. Who knew this reign of terror would have began in 1983 when you negotiated $150,000 for Tim Belcher the moment he was drafted? Also a record — one that deserves to be scratched, cracked and melted into candle wax.

I’m certain every time you break an MLB record with your multi-million-dollar negotiations, you break out that deep, throaty, genuine laugh, which reminds others of the sound a dog makes just before it throws up. Following the relief of said emesis, you smile and hand your sweaty Mont Blanc (engraved with “Scott Boras: Master of the Universe, Slave to Uranus”) to the latest sucker…owner whom will sign over 2/3 of his team’s income on one of your overpaid, overhyped and often over-the-hill clients.

I was reminded of your vile ways to manipulate the game when I read that you believe Cincinnati Reds’ diva-in-the-making Shin-Soo Choo could earn a cool $90 – $100 million this winter. 

“As a custom of the industry, prognostications by executives this time of year are dramatically divergent from the real market,” Boras told [’s Jon] Heyman. “I don’t think anyone correctly predicted what Jayson Werth or Carl Crawford got.”

Choo has never made an All-Star team. He doesn’t have a ring. And Reds’ GM Walt Jocketty believes he can’t even afford Choo. And this was before he saw “Scott Boras: Baseball Antichrist” on his cell phone. Don’t get me wrong, Choo is a nice (31-year-old) player and I would love to have his speed and bat in the Rangers’ lineup. However, your client in the field is ‘meh’ at best. Sure, speedster Billy Hamilton would be a welcome addition for the Reds outfield but conversely, his bat isn’t so great.

Choo should thank the fans. They are the ones paying for Boras’ intervention.

Is Choo worth resigning? Yes. Is Choo worth the Scott Boras special Vaseline job? No. Will that ever stop you from holding a gun to the GM’s head? Never, you portly, sweat-ridden sadist.

Your magic benchmark of $100 million has now become an American tradition. You know, like fathers chasing their sons around the yard with power tools, only instead of the casual drill acting as a .357 magnum, you are using a miter saw because Scott Boras will chop off anything for his clients. Even if that means the fans’ access to see your clients on the field when ticket prices go up exponentially and hot dogs are mysteriously worth $15.

Mr. Boras, on behalf of all baseball fans — even the bandwagoner ones — you are bad for baseball. Sure, you are good for your clients but your pilfering of baseball teams for some player hitting a hot streak is bad for the sport. Your contracts never pay a good return on investment. Actually, neither does your presence. Those moves of playing the hot stove and turning it into an inferno is as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

As a real baseball fan, I almost loathe the leaves the changing and the weather dropping because I know the winter meetings are coming and the Scott Boras specials are looming. I almost fear knowing if any of my favorite team has a Scott Boras client. Why? Because I know we will either say goodbye to a good player or pay like a third-world country looking for a fresh water well.

Well, you are making all baseball fans die of thirst, ironically enough. Not in the way you think, but in the way fans can’t afford a damn adult beverage at the game with their pretzel because of one your cockamamie 10-year, umpteen million-dollar contracts. So, thanks for your indelible and unintelligible mark upon this great game, Scott Boras.  Congratulations on your success but just know you are underhandedly killing a game that millions of fans love. Why? You can’t take families to any other game because of ticket prices, parking prices and concession prices. Baseball is affordable for now. And unless you have a partial stroke coming soon, it won’t be for long.

Good thing I have a large TV because I will be forced to use it as I do for every other game on the planet. Maybe I can get my kids into croquet, badminton or ladies’ softball. Unless you have some clients there too. We’d appreciate a heads-up before the suckage begins.

So, good luck with your client Mr. Choo, Scott Boras. Just know your tactics to fleece every team in Major League Baseball really blows…like a sneeze. Ah…ah…ahCHOOOOOO! See what I did there? Yeah, we see you too.

Warmest regards,

Baseball Fans Across America

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