IN THE HOURS leading up to the largest deal in sports history, Steve Cohen was convinced he wasn’t going to be the one to give it out. Cohen arrived at Vitolo in Fort Lauderdale, Florida, to grab dinner with a friend Sunday night feeling defeated. For more than a month, Cohen had done everything he could to convince Juan Soto, one of the most gifted hitters ever to play in Major League Baseball, to spend the remainder of his career with the New York Mets. He sold Soto on the Mets’ future and his place in delivering their first World Series title in nearly four decades. He highlighted the Mets’ family atmosphere, a vital element of the team’s sales pitch to free agents since Cohen bought the franchise in 2020. And still, Cohen feared, that wasn’t enough to preclude Soto from returning to the New York Yankees, the Mets’ cross-borough nemesis.

Then, as Cohen prepared to tuck in to his pork chop with sweet vinegar and hot cherry peppers, his phone rang. On the other end was Scott Boras, the agent who had negotiated billions of dollars in contracts. Soto, the rare player to reach free agency at the tender age of 26, was his pièce de résistance. Boras never offered a buy-it-now price to shut negotiations down. Offers had jumped tens of millions of dollars at a time, and they still weren’t enough. Boras’ carrot-and-stick routine — telling teams they were in the bidding, only to remind them that they needed to go to an even more uncomfortable place to remain so — had worked wonders.

His tone in this conversation differed. And Cohen couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“Usually I’m pretty good at reading the signals. This one I totally missed,” Cohen told ESPN. “Scott called me, and I realized, ‘Holy s—. This could happen.’ I didn’t expect it. I had no expectations it was going to happen. I was blown away.”

Quickly, the veneer of pessimism that swathed Cohen at the beginning of dinner melted. This was it. This was how the New York Mets, a franchise defined more by its dysfunction than success, would be reborn. Soto and his family members had made a decision. He wanted to be a Met, to decamp from the Bronx to Queens, to alter not only the trajectory of Major League Baseball but all professional sports. Cohen’s bonanza offer — 15 years for $765 million with no money deferred and a $75 million signing bonus — had won the wildest free agent sweepstakes in nearly a quarter-century.

Over the next few hours, as Mets president of baseball operations David Stearns prepared to fly to Dallas for MLB’s annual winter meetings, he and Cohen hammered out the fine details of the agreement with Boras. Cohen is one of the 100 richest people in the world. He is worth more than $20 billion and a connoisseur of fine art, a collection that includes Picasso and Pollock and Warhol and valued at more than $1 billion. Only after the news of the agreement broke and Mets fans rejoiced and Yankees fans burned No. 22 jerseys and the emotions that only sports can generate spilled into the ether did Cohen truly understand the gravity of what was happening, a makeover of the Mets as significant off the field as on.

For having spent his career winning, Cohen’s victories were limited in scope — for him, personally, or those at his hedge funds. Convincing Juan Soto to abscond from the most storied franchise in North American sports and join the New York Mets represented a civic triumph, something to be savored by the vast array of people who have spent their lives futilely rooting for a team so snakebitten that venom runs through its veins. “I totally underestimated how people responded to this,” Cohen said. Whether those are the words of a person who cares not to unleash an end zone dance on a Yankees organization he genuinely likes or of someone beginning to understand the tectonic nature of the contract he proffered does not matter.

Juan Soto is a New York Met. And this is how it happened.

EVERYTHING HAS A price, as the old saying goes, and nobody knows that better than a billionaire — or Scott Boras. Sometimes baseball’s owners will ask Boras for a takedown price on his clients — the ceiling bid at which the offer will land a player. During the monthlong negotiations for the slugger, Boston Red Sox owners John Henry and Tom Werner inquired about what that number might be.

Boras explained to the Red Sox owners that in the case of Soto, with his strike zone mastery and his unique ability to lift teammates with his indomitable confidence, there was no such takedown price. The final number would go as far as the bidding billionaires pushed it, and through weeks of meetings and negotiations, the owners kept piling more money into their proposals, fully inspired, wholly invested.

Soto’s first team, the Washington Nationals, had offered him $440 million over 15 years in the summer of 2022, but Soto had turned that down, without Boras even countering. What Soto related to Boras then was that he didn’t really know Mark Lerner, who had assumed control of the franchise from his father, Ted, who would pass away the following February. The Nationals traded Soto to the San Diego Padres in late July, and San Diego owner Peter Seidler made it clear to Boras that he fully intended to keep Soto on a long-term deal.

But Seidler passed away after the 2023 season, and a month later, the Padres traded Soto to the Yankees. General manager Brian Cashman made the deal fully understanding that Soto might be just a one-year rental. Early in 2024, Cashman bumped into Mets manager Carlos Mendoza, a former Yankees coach, and Mendoza teased his old boss with a good-natured warning: Cohen would be coming after Soto in the fall.

Soto thrived with the Yankees, posting an on-base percentage of .419, mashing 41 homers and hoisting the team into the World Series with an extra-inning home run in the American League Championship Series (an at-bat so memorable that the owners repeatedly asked Soto about it as he went through his negotiations, the way fans would). After the last out of the World Series loss to the Los Angeles Dodgers, Soto walked slowly to the outfield end of the home dugout in the Yankees’ pinstriped uniform, carrying his cap, glove and bat, and he pointed to the sky. The social media autopsy of the moment began instantly, with everyone wondering: Was this Soto’s way of preparing for his departure from the Yankees? His teammates and club staffers seemed to have no more insight than fans or pundits into Soto’s future preferences, and Soto adroitly fueled the mystery right after that game by telling reporters he was looking forward to hearing from all 30 teams.

The following months mostly bore that out, with teams’ highest-ranked officials involved. Toronto Blue Jays chairman Edward Rogers, a rarely seen presence in baseball decisions, flew to California to helm the franchise’s meeting with Soto, shaking hands with Boras for the first time. John Henry, attempting to restore Boston’s place in the upper echelon of teams after a half-decade of franchise dormancy, was back at the table. The World Series champion Dodgers, poised to become MLB’s first repeat champion since the 1999-2000 Yankees, were never as agog as the other four finalists in the pursuit of Soto but felt good enough about their first meeting with Soto that owner Mark Walter got involved as the process accelerated.

The Yankees’ Hal Steinbrenner, who must operate within the foggy fan perception of his late father, George, had to decide if he was willing to spend to infinity. And Cohen, the wealthiest of all baseball owners, who cast aside the polite distance he maintained during Aaron Judge‘s free agency to go all-in for Soto in the way he’d pursue a Jeff Koons bunny sculpture.

As Boras would say when it was over, negotiating on behalf of a player as dynamic as Soto “was like fishing with dynamite. … Every team kept coming and coming.”

General managers and managers were involved in the conversations, of course. But this process came down to billionaires presenting offers and selling themselves, and what Boras referred to as the Soto Supreme Court — the player and his mother and bench of nine uncles — listening, the numbers soaring to baseball infinity and beyond. Just a year after Shohei Ohtani, widely regarded as baseball’s best player, signed a deal assessed in present-day value at about $461 million, Soto surpassed that number by more than $300 million.

MOSTLY, THE OWNERS and their staffers traveled to meet with Soto, rather than the other way around, in mid-November at a hotel in Newport Beach, California (Cohen proved an exception: He hosted the first conversation at his L.A.-area home.) The conference room in which the Yankees met with him was modest, with team officials seated on one side of a rectangle-shaped table, and on the other side, Soto, Boras and other members of Soto’s representation team. There was no food brought in, and drinks were bring your own. In these meetings, Boras asked questions of the billionaires and their staffers, designed to provide insight for Soto about the owners, teams and their methods.

Any scouting report on Soto usually includes a mention of how bright he is — this is someone who started doing nationally televised interviews in his second language about two years after his first English lesson — and Soto seemed to process what he heard in these meetings in the same meticulous way he takes his at-bats.

The Yankees’ internal perception was that Soto had had a great experience in his one season with them. He and Aaron Judge had flourished as co-stars, helping each other in the lineup, supporting each other publicly. When Judge had started slowly, Soto assured his teammate that there would be a time when Judge would pick up for Soto in the way that Soto was doing for Judge. Soto later acknowledged during his November conversations with teams that his previous relationship with a superstar teammate — in San Diego with the Padres’ Manny Machado — had been difficult, but with Judge, everything seemed to go smoothly.

As Soto prepared to walk out of Yankee Stadium for what would prove to be the last time in his tenure with the team, he made a point of thanking Jason Zillo, the team’s head of media relations, for helping him through a year of high scrutiny — an uncommon gesture in Zillo’s decades of experience counseling players. Despite how impressed they were with Soto, and how good the Yankees felt about his time with the team, there was some pessimism about whether they could retain him. In their experience with Boras clients through the years, the player often seemed to take the highest offer, and at the outset of the negotiations, the Yankees thought there was a good chance that Cohen would outbid them. Before Soto began his meetings with teams in November, one front office assistant was asked about the odds of retaining Soto. “Thirty percent,” he said, a number that reflected the Yankees’ belief that Cohen would be hyperaggressive.

In the Yankees’ meeting, some of Boras’ questions were meant to give Soto insight into Steinbrenner, who he really didn’t know. Hal Steinbrenner’s inflection is similar to that of his father, the tone of his words and the staccato in which he delivers them. But he and his father are quite different, in the eyes of many who have known both. George Steinbrenner gravitated toward cameras and maintained a steady dialogue with reporters, while Hal Steinbrenner holds one scheduled media session over the seven weeks of spring training. George often overpowered, overruled and ignored employees; Hal Steinbrenner delegates. George seemed to bask in the glow of the stars he collected, while Hal’s habit is to give them a respectful space. He has gotten to know Judge and ace Gerrit Cole, but even when Judge was a free agent, it was the player who initiated the last conversations that pushed across the finish line. Soto indicated to an associate that he was surprised he didn’t know Hal better, and according to two sources in the meetings, Steinbrenner explained he didn’t want to overwhelm the player in his first year in New York.

As Boras dealt with Steinbrenner during the process, he felt this was someone who had grown increasingly comfortable in his role as owner — and his final offer was far beyond where some Yankees staffers believed he would go.

“Hal Steinbrenner really stepped up to find a way to retain Juan Soto, and I’m certainly proud of his efforts,” Cashman told reporters Monday. “Certainly went well beyond what I would have expected.”

FOR ALMOST A week, Boras and Soto sat down with contingents from interested teams. In all of those meetings, Soto asked questions about on-field plans for him on the rosters. In the sit-down with the Dodgers — a meeting which included president of baseball operations Andrew Friedman, GM Brandon Gomes and manager Dave Roberts, who had cut a vacation in Europe short to return for the occasion — Roberts was asked how he would structure the top of his lineup with Soto.

He answered: Ohtani would lead off, then Soto hitting second, Mookie Betts third, Freddie Freeman fourth. In an effort to give Soto some insight into how Roberts thinks, Boras asked the Dodgers manager to identify a moment in which he felt the World Series slipping away — and Roberts explained that when the Yankees took a 5-0 lead in Game 5, he had called on hard-throwing reliever Michael Kopech to pitch the fourth inning, because Roberts wanted somebody to dominate the Yankees’ hitters, to reverse the shifting momentum.

Soto and Boras also focused on issues off the field. The Yankees had worked to accommodate Soto, but that had not been seamless. After Soto agreed to terms, reports emerged that there had been an episode between Soto’s father and the Yankees’ security earlier in the season. Soto’s father had gone to the clubhouse door before a game, sources said, in the hope of bringing food to his eldest son. But he was turned away, in a routine enforcement of rules that were put in place by MLB in the aftermath of the steroid era; in some cases, personal trainers and some family members were found to have served as PED mules.

Another time, someone intending to drive Soto home at the end of a game wanted to wait in a crowded parking lot, and the driver was told to stay outside the area until after the game, per team rules. (Neither Boone nor Cashman was made aware of the two security episodes until well after the World Series.)

The policing of ballpark and clubhouse access varies from organization to organization, and when Soto was with the Nationals and then the Padres, there was more deference given to Soto and his family. After the Nationals’ wild-card win in 2019, Soto’s father joined the on-field celebration almost immediately, in his excitement. “It’s pretty clear that his family is really important to him,” said a team staffer, noting that Soto’s family would enter a ballpark through the players’ lot, which is not common in most stadiums.

The Yankees’ roster has long been filled with stars, and in almost all cases, protocol is honored. With the Yankees, there is no facial hair, no free suites and no special clubhouse access for the families of favored players. Derek Jeter, the captain, wasn’t bestowed a private suite, because if Jeter had been given one, well, then that treatment would be expected by other stars. The feeling in the organization is that to do it another way was to invite problems. Through the years, incoming players have said that the Yankees have been helpful and welcoming for families while maintaining workplace boundaries.

With the Mets, under Cohen, the culture is different. When Francisco Lindor was acquired and signed his record-setting $341 million deal, some members of the clubhouse were initially suspicious of his friendship with Cohen. But Cohen and his wife, Alex, have extended themselves to others, inviting many of the Mets’ players to their home. Alex Cohen has a consistent presence at Citi Field, and as Cohen acknowledged, he typically spends time on the field about once a homestand.

During Soto’s negotiations with the Mets, one of the perks discussed was a family suite at Citi Field — and Cohen greenlighted it immediately. “I don’t view it as an issue,” Cohen said this week.

AS THE WEEK after Thanksgiving began, Boras continued to field offers, informing teams that he expected Soto to make a decision soon. The Yankees were told there would be no more face-to-face meetings. In fact, there was at least one more. On Dec. 6, Soto and Boras sat with Cohen and Stearns at Cohen’s home in Florida. Boras later explained that the exception for this meeting with Cohen was made because the first get-together with Cohen had been cut short because of other business.

“I didn’t really get a good feel for Juan the first time we met,” Cohen said. “I felt like I needed to get more time to know the person. This was obviously going to be a big contract. I wanted to hear him out and get to know him as a person. The first meeting was a get-to-know-you, hello-how-are-you. I wanted something more substantial. It was an opportunity really to sit and talk about baseball and what’s important to Juan.”

By the time Cohen sat with Soto again, there was doubt in the Red Sox organization about the possibility of signing the slugger. The bidding was climbing beyond $700 million, a benchmark that the Boston offer — comprised of some deferred money — did not reach, according to team sources. (A source in the Soto camp disputed that, mentioning that overtures are not always funneled in the same way.)

But Boras was not giving anyone a benchmark at which to shoot, no takedown numbers. He would inform teams only when their offers were behind, the team executives operating within the hollow echoes of their information silos. On Saturday, the bidders knew only that Soto hadn’t decided, the anxiety growing by the day. Other coveted players, like infielder Willy Adames, had started to land in the market.

Cohen was unsure of his chances. The Yankees, having negotiated with Boras many times through the years, still had no real feel about which way Soto was leaning. Early on Sunday afternoon, with no update from Boras, a Red Sox team official involved in the bidding assumed they were out, predicting that Soto would return to the Yankees.

At that point, the Mets’ offer had reached $750 million, $50 million a year for 15 years, and then increased to $51 million a year, for $765 million — with a $4-million-a-year kicker that the team can use to void Soto’s opt-out, taking the potential sum of the deal to $805 million. The Yankees, preferring to keep the annual average salary at $47.5 million, added a 16th year, moving from $712.5 million to $760 million, including a $60 million signing bonus and the same fifth-year opt-out the Mets offered but without the voiding element.

Boras began to call the runners-up Sunday afternoon. In his call to Cashman, Boras said that a decision was coming within an hour. “I think Juan is going in a different direction,” he told Cashman.

This week, Boras dismissed the notion that the Yankees had done anything wrong in these negotiations. “It had nothing to do with what the Yankees didn’t do, and everything to do with what the Mets did do,” he said.

Cashman relayed Soto’s decision to Hal Steinbrenner and team president Randy Levine in a text. At the precise moment that the wheels of Aaron Boone’s flight into Dallas on Sunday night touched down, his phone lit with a news notification: Soto had chosen the Mets over the Yankees.

“It’s become such a big story — I didn’t know that it would be a national story,” Cohen said this week. “There’s a lot of stuff with the Yankees and the Mets — I kind of hate that. There’s room for both of us in the city. We competed for a player. People got excited about that. But the reality is that’s rare. I like the guys over there. They’re good guys.”

On Sunday night, Cohen spoke to Soto on the phone right after the deal was complete, speaking over the din coming through the phone (“It was a little noisy,” he said this week with a laugh).

“Welcome to the Mets,” Cohen told him. “I’m so thrilled to have you. The fans are going to be elated.”