Editor’s note: This article is excerpted from Jerry Crasnick’s book License to Deal, now available for purchase at the Rodale bookstore It’s a blustery San Francisco morning, and Matt arises early and rubs the bleariness from his eyes. He’s sleep-deprived, and his insides do flips if he forgets to take his stomach medication. His wardrobe–gray Polo T-shirt, blue Toronto Blue Jays workout shorts, and flip-flops–seems more suited to a frat boy gearing up for a fantasy league draft than an agent presiding over the future of 15 aspiring big leaguers. The only certainty today is that Matt and the other members of the Sosnick-Cobbe contingent will order out for lunch. Matt keeps delivery menus from a local pizza joint and an area sushi restaurant handy, in much the same way an asthmatic keeps an inhaler within easy reach. His reliance on takeout food for sustenance is a running joke among those who know and love him. When Matt’s sister, Alisa, was in college, she broke up with her boyfriend and lapsed into a state of emotional disrepair. “Come on over and you can sleep at my house,” Matt told her. Shortly after her arrival, Alisa told Matt she was hungry, and he replied that he had…