In a bizarre twist of fate, the ball field to blue lives transition seemingly took an errant pass for Christopher Pazan, a one-time standout quarterback for the University of Illinois, and current – albeit temporarily unemployed – Chicago police officer. The erstwhile sports star and now-accused lawman has found himself in the unenviable spotlight of legal trouble, all over a $300 mishap involving baseball cards. No longer in the predicted Hall of Fame trajectory, the former athlete is on deck instead for a June court date.
This unanticipated chapter in Pazan’s life took a turn on a regular Wednesday afternoon when attempt at a heist unfolded at a perfectly unsuspecting Meijer location in south suburban Evergreen Park, Illinois. The 41-year-old former athlete allegedly enacted an amateurish attempt to abscond with the goods, which instead landed him in cuffs. A keen-eyed security officer spotted Pazan on surveillance footage, artlessly inserting packs of those prized cards into a yard waste bag, akin to a scene from “The Slippery Slope of Sporting Goods Espionage” series.
As per the immediate narrative, Pazan went so far as to pay for the yard waste bag – a gallant gesture of honesty – but conveniently neglected to pay for the cards. This ill-considered oversight caught up with him quickly, leading to his arrest. This former pigskin hero, who traded the gridiron for the chance to don the badge in 2015, now finds himself under the judgmental glare of the same legal system he once swore to uphold.
Stripped of his police powers, pending an internal investigation, Pazan has perhaps more on his docket than he could have ever imagined when he chalked up yards for Brother Rice High School back in Mount Greenwood. His illustrious high school career earned him All-American honors, and he went on to play at the University of Illinois. Later jumping into a coaching role before making a monumental career shift into policing, he seemingly chose the law enforcement route out of a yearning for more significant service, as he shared with gusto in a 2015 Chicago Tribune interview.
Despite a salary that reaches heights of $111,804 without overtime – a hefty sum by average Illinois standards – Pazan’s finances have been in disarray. A shadow of irony hovers over his case, given his assignment in the police force dealt with financial crimes, arson, and alike. His personal financial tumble has been anything but obscure; marked by a foreclosure refinancing attempt to cater for legal costs compounded by a divorce, police work is paralleled by constant personal skirmishes with economics.
Navigating rocky financial terrain, debates with debts have adorned Pazan’s timeline in recent years. Fifth Third Bank once stumbled attempting to retrieve arrears over $4,000 but dropped the case when the quarterback-turned-cop played an unexpected vanish-through-the-tunnel. JPMorgan Chase came calling in 2022, when another overbearing $15,000 claim surfaced. Ultimately reaching and marking it settled by 2024, Pazan tied a bow around yet another costly chapter.
His penchant for living on the fiscal edge occasionally raises old eyebrows among cohorts and partners; city hiring guidelines sternly underline financial stability to resist yielding to pressures that might otherwise ensnare the honorable occupation he joined. Yet, irony plays deep as his acquaintances ring noisily over an unpaid $5,800 to previous legal counsel – an obvious Rembrandt of mounting woes accompanied by pleas from lawyers threatening spectral motions of owed dues.
From all-American blue-eyed football hope to alleged baseball card conspirator, Christopher Pazan now suits up for a different league – the court of law. Mark the calendars for June 23 at Bridgeview, where he stands to answer the charges stacked against him. For Pazan, the road ahead might demand a playbook that includes legal strategies instead of football plays, as he prepares to approach his new challenge – not with shoulder pads but with solemn respect for due process, hoping the team’s spirit of justice allows room for fumbles in personal plays.
