Free A-Rod: The Many Lives of Alex Rodriguez by Selena Roberts

were there, but they were also trying to establish themselves after college.
    Alex relied on a circle of adults, from Eddie Rodriguez (no relation) at the Miami Boys & Girls Club on Southwest 32nd Avenue to an array of youth coaches, from mentors such as Jose Canseco to agents trying to woo him. His natural impressionability as a teen was heightened by the fact that he had no father standing sentry between him and the many adults who saw a payday in Alex. He was about to make millions. That was clear.
    Alex played to the media craving for a player who was fresh and grounded despite the crush of attention. As Ed Giuliotti wrote in the Fort Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel , “Alex Rodriguez, the object of their desire, smiled, called scouts by their fi rst names and teased
many.” He carried himself with modesty and an air of innocence, often telling reporters how lucky he was to have played in the United States instead of the D.R., where the poverty means no leather gloves or green fi elds.
    The media were enamored of his charisma and awestruck by his numbers. He hit .505 with nine home runs, 14 doubles, 6 triples and 35 stolen bases in 35 attempts over 33 games during his senior year at Westminster. The stats ensured that he was all but a lock to go number one in the June draft. Detroit Tigers scout Steve Sou-choki said, “He’s got instincts you can’t teach. I wish we had a lot of players in our area like him. It would make our job easier, that’s for sure.” A top college baseball coach, Cal State Fullerton’s Augie Garrido, said at the time, “If you were to sit down in front of a computer and say, ‘How would I construct the perfect shortstop?,’
    you’d put all the data in and then you would see Alex Rodriguez.”
    Covering all his bases, Alex had signed a letter of intent to play for the Miami Hurricanes before his senior season, but nobody expected him to walk away from the big money that would come to the number one pick. Every agent worth his Rolex wanted a chance to land Alex. They came with presents and slick talk. “Alex knew not to break the NCAA rules,” Susy says.
    They arrived with pitches and promises. “We interviewed the top four agents,” Susy says.
    The list was then cut to two: Ron Shapiro and Scott Boras.
    They could not have been more different. Boras was a rumpled, hard-core negotiator, relentless in squeezing the last penny out of owners even if it meant fabricating rival offers from phantom teams. He would later be depicted by the media as the man who had ruined baseball by driving salaries beyond the reach of small-market teams.
    Almost always dressed in a tie, Shapiro was a Harvard law school graduate with a reputation for nurturing his clients. He cared about their happiness and always factored in emotional well-being when signing his stars to lucrative deals. He was the agent for Cal Ripken, Jr., and he seemed to be the favorite of the Rodriguez family.
    Shapiro realized that Alex was malleable, vulnerable. “To me it looked like a particularly appealing situation because not only would Alex benefi t from some representation but maybe having someone guide him and help shape some of the values that he would have,” Shapiro says. “One of the things I feared for Alex early on— and I told this to my partner Michael Maas and later shared it with Cal Ripken— was that while he had this tremendous talent, he might be persuaded to take steps that might not build on the happiness quotient for him, on the satisfaction quotient.”
    One adviser Alex leaned on when making the decision between Boras and Shapiro was a family friend who was a fi xture in the Miami community as a businessman and public offi cial. Joe Arriola had been a youth-league coach of Alex and was the uncle of major leaguer Alex Fernandez, a client of Boras. “Alex’s fi rst choice was Shapiro,” Arriola recalls. “And I told him, ‘Look, I know Scott pretty well, and maybe you should talk.’ And that’s how Scott