The Player
“That stuff is so outdated,” Rosenhaus says now of his early indiscretions. “When I got started, there was more of a need to distinguish myself from my competitors. That’s all changed. There’s nothing villainous about me.”

Before the Monday night game, we stop at the Omni to see one of Rosenhaus’ players. Gliding into the lobby, the agent is  immediately recognized. He stands six feet tall in boots, designer jeans, and a black leather jacket. Outsize pecs poke through his white T-shirt, flanking the S in the Rosenhaus Sports Representation logo, modeled on Superman’s S. Rosenhaus is not exactly hiding his Superidentity.

Upstairs, Ravens running back Willis Mc­Gahee greets Rosenhaus with a thug-hug, then pokes his pecs and makes a face. Rosenhaus starts to make excuses but McGahee laughs it off. (Every summer Rosenhaus holds workouts with his clients where they lift weights and run wind sprints.) McGahee was a potential number-one overall pick coming out of Miami until he suffered a catastrophic knee injury in 2003, which could have pushed him into the third round. While he rehabbed, Rosenhaus ran a publicity campaign claiming his client would be ready to practice that fall. Then, at the draft, he phoned McGahee—who was sitting next to him—to create the illusion teams were calling. The Buffalo Bills picked him 23rd overall, and he was on the field before the end of the year.

Scooting away from a stack of cash on the table, I ask McGahee to explain his choice in agents. He speaks calmly while dressing, clearly a man used to being questioned in his underwear. “Drew was like a little kid,” he says, grinning. “He was like one of us, always working out, playing video games. I liked being around him and his brother. They made me laugh.”

Every one of Rosenhaus’ players said the same thing: Their agent gets a bad rap. “People stereotype agents as money-grubbing guys,” says Lawrence Timmons, a rookie linebacker with the Steelers. “But when you see the guy for yourself, you see how he is.” Why wouldn’t his clients love him? He pumps muscle into their paychecks. As for Rosenhaus, there’s an element of hero-worship in play. The kid playing with toys is now surrounded by flesh-and-bone star athletes. As Rosenhaus juggles his phone, we hear him reinforce Kellen Winslow’s ego after the Browns tight end caught 11 balls with a dislocated shoulder. He reminds Panthers center Justin Hartwig that playing through a broken thumb will improve his nego­tiating leverage. He seems to need the players as much as they need him. “These are my brothers. It’s no longer just Batman,” he says, referring to himself. “It’s Batman, Robin, Nighthawk, and Batgirl.”

Control Freak
Rosenhaus’ rivals see another side. They claim he pilfers clients, an act punishable by the NFL Players Association. Last October, for example, Chicago Bears receiver Bernard Berrian heard a rumor that his agent was to be suspended, so he switched to Rosenhaus—but it turned out the rumor was false. Rosenhaus denied involvement, but Berrian didn’t go back, so suspi­cious types put two and two together. Excuses, says Rosenhaus. “When you lose players, it’s because you’re not doing a good enough job.”

Fans are more concerned with Rosenhaus’ reputation for engineering holdouts, cemented when eight of his biggest clients threatened to skip minicamp as leverage for new contracts in 2005. In Green Bay, Brett Favre publicly called on receiver Javon Walker to get a new agent. In Philadelphia, Terrell Owens reported for camp only to take verbal jabs at owners and teammates. After a fight with retired Eagle Hugh Douglas, Owens was effectively fired by the team. Rosenhaus backed him in an emotional rant at the now-infamous “next question” press conference (YouTube it). “It was a circus act,” says Mark Lepselter, who once lost a client to Rosenhaus. “Send in the clowns. The whole thing was pathetic.”

As for Rosenhaus’ ability to control games, his top 53 players could probably crush the Patriots. He represents Bears linebacker Lance Briggs—about to become a free agent—and Berrian, Winslow, and Cowboys running back Marion Barber. He’s also got Bengals wide receiver Chad Johnson, rumored to be mulling a trade request to a team in a larger market. Rosenhaus can influence to a large degree which player goes to which team. Thus, he can tip the balance of power from one team to another.

Team executives understand his clout. “If the agent represents multiple players on the team, you want to make sure you’re not burning any bridges for the next negotiations,” says Cliff Stein, lead negotiator for the Chicago Bears. Another agent puts it more bluntly: “You’re never going to get a club to say the truth about Drew Rosenhaus, because they’re going to have to deal with him at some time. They’ll tell me he’s an ass, then next time they see him they’re buddying up to him.”

“As far as the weeping competitors that I consistently knock the crap out of,” Rosenhaus says, “it only motivates me more when they whine and make excuses. It’s so cowardly to take these shots. They never say anything to my face. It doesn’t make any sense. I’m one of the guys who has done the most for the profession over the past 20 years.” Asked how he has changed his industry, Rosenhaus settles on the obvious: “I’m not sure there was a face to the business before me. Whether people think it’s good or bad, now there is.”

Kick Off
Now picture Rosenhaus as he stalks the Pittsburgh sideline before kickoff, peering over the security guard standing between him and the Steelers bench. From the line of Steelers jogging onto the field, cornerback Bryant McFadden calls Rosenhaus’ name, forcing the guard to step aside, demoralized. Player and agent embrace, shouting in each other’s ears. As McFadden trots off, Rosenhaus beams. “By far the coolest thing for a guy like me is to be down on the field before the games,” he says. “I adore the athletes. They remind me of superheroes: the size, the strength, the explosiveness. I do find myself wanting to be like them.”

The players love their agent. Everyone else hates him. Who is the real Drew Rosenhaus? Let us clear this up: He’s actually an overgrown  nerd. He’s really Batman and Robin and Nighthawk (and even Batgirl), a fearless crusader aim­ing to line his Superclients’ pockets with Superdollars. He’s a brilliant businessman and a kid who never grew up, and he’s a pro at using the media, from a cameo in Jerry Maguire to the article in your hand. While he may have Superpower-like influence in the NFL, we can’t vouch that he’s not deeply in touch with the dark side.

Nothing evil about him? We don’t buy it.