Don't Grimace Now
But keeping the Bengals just got more expensive
Obsolete?
Discussing new stadia and how we pay for them is drier than Prohibition. Listening to huckster politicians blab about how we need pro sports teams to be a “major league’’ city is nauseating. Further bloviating re the economic boom that will result from being big-league is beyond nauseating. And false.
What’s that stuff you take to induce vomiting? Syrup of ipecac. Next time you feel the need to purge, skip the syrup. Go straight to the hard stuff and read about the stadium needs of NFL franchises.
If you wanna take the day off from This Space, no offense taken.
But here’s the thing:
It ain’t going away. And what has happened across the country lately, regarding stadium construction, ought to send fright waves up the spines of every Cincinnati Bengals fan.
Nevada is spending $750 million in tax dollars to build the stadium housing the Las Vegas Raiders. That’s topped by the $850 mil the state of New York gave to Buffalo, to help the Bills build their new playpen. That was the most money ever given to a sports team from public coffers.
It’s pocket lint compared with what Tennessee and the city of Nashville have just approved for new digs for the Titans. The Athletic:
The city’s likely approval of $760 million in revenue bonds, combined with $500 million already approved by the state, brings the total public contribution for the stadium to $1.26 billion, far and away the biggest sports subsidy in U.S. history by nearly 50 percent.
The public is paying $800 million or so to pay for PayJoe. Eight hundred million? That’s so 2001. The total cost for the Titans new yard is an estimated $2.1 billion.
It gets worse.
The Titans greased their ask by hiring an independent consultant to share this bit of extraordinary news: To renovate 24-year-old Nissan Stadium to the “world class’’ status the current lease requires would cost roughly $1.8 b-b-b-billion. The city of Nashville would be on the hook for all of it.
The only alternative, other than saying no to the Titans and likely losing the team to, I dunno, San Antonio, was to pony up for a new palace.
Stadiums used to cost less than this guy
Stadium costs are no different than player costs, in one vital way: They set a bench mark. Every time more money gets tossed, the cost goes up. That’s why every owner in the NFL hated it when the Browns gave Deshaun Watson all that guaranteed money, why Bob Castellini hates it when Justin Verlander signs for $40 mil a year and why you should cringe when Nashville will spend three times as much on a football stadium in 2023 as Cincinnati agreed to spend in the late 90s.
Oh, sure, the Titans are acting like they’re making nice. They’ve agreed to waive $32 million owed by Nashville for money spent maintaining Nissan Stadium the past four years. The Titans also will pay off the remaining $30 million in bonds owed for the current stadium. (ESPN.com)
With the NFL, the team also has agreed to cover $840 million of the $2.1 billion cost. Part of that will come from seat licenses. Of course it will.
Buy the right to buy the seat. It’s the NFL Way.
The Titans hail this stadium deal as the best thing that’s happened in Nashville since country music. Burke Nihill, the Titans' president and CEO, said "This is a generational opportunity to address our city's priorities and ensure its health and vitality for the next 30 years. "Our city and our state have bright futures ahead, and we're humbled by the opportunity to continue to be a part of it."
Oh, bullcrap.
Our city’s priorities? Really, chief?
What it is, actually, is the most recent NFL shakedown, in which the rich owners get richer, for providing a product we might love, but absolutely don’t need.
Which gets us back to the Bengals.
In the not-too-distant future, we are going to start hearing back-channel talk about The Lease. PayJoe and Nissan are about the same age. The Bengals have done a remarkable job lately in improving their already high-leverage hold on civic hearts and minds. Every time the Men kick ass, The Fam makes a deposit in the local Leverage Savings and Loan.
Mike Brown loves leverage.
There’s an OK chance that in the next 1-3 years, he’ll deposit a Lombardi Trophy in the bank. How can a city whose team just won a Super Bowl not pony up? Then we’ll all have a choice to make.
If it was going to cost $1.8 billion to renovate Nissan Stadium, what might the PayJoe bill be? Do the Bengals do what the Titans did and say, “Jeez, you know, wouldn’t it be better just to build us a new place?’’
I have no doubt The Fam wants the team in Cincinnati. I do believe some concessions will be made to account for that. Some already have been made, in overdue stadium improvements. I also believe there’s more money to be made elsewhere. And it would behoove the Bengals to take a look.
The Tennessee Titans are spending $2.1 billion to stay major league. Consider the bar raised. Drastically.
Now, then. . .
ON OIL CHANGES. . . For many years, Johnny Thinwallet did them himself. It was cheaper, I could do it on my time and, well, changing your own oil is just a manly damned thing to do, yeah?
At some point, I stopped. I started going to the local “Instant’’ oil change place. The fact that their definition of instant is somewhat different than mine — about half an hour different, actually — is an issue. But not a huge one. The bigger issues are, in no special order:
I have to keep turning my car on and off. Three times. Why?
They tell me how crummy my car’s condition is. Battery’s about done, left front turn signal needs replaced, air filter looks like an LA smog bank. You could use some new wipers. When I leave the place, I feel like I should just drop my car off at Goodwill.
They want to put those little stickers on my windshield. Yeah? No.
It’s enough to make an OG bust out the old set of ramps and get ‘er done in 10 minutes. Who’s with me?
I SORT-OF READ a story from The Athletic, about Topps, the card company that is now wining and dining big-time baseball prospects at a place in Arizona. Topps sees a huge market in rookie cards, so it wants to get these manchild commodities all in one place, with their wrists and fingers blowing through boxes of cards.
Yeah, OK. Whatever. The only part that got me was that one of these cards signed by one of these kids could be worth $1 mil someday.
Well.
That’s impressively better than what you’d pay for a Ken Griffey Jr. card that’s never been affixed to a bicycle spoke. Bing.com:
Ken Griffey Jr. rookie cards have different values depending on the brand, condition, and rarity of the card12345. The most valuable card is the 1989 Bowman Tiffany card in a PSA 10 grade, which sells for near $14,000
Point is, collecting baseball cards for profit is annoying. I loved Roberto Clemente as a kid. I had a chance to meet him in 1969, at the old Forbes Field in Pittsburgh. The Great One stood before a game by the front-row seats next to the Pirates dugout. Kids were everywhere, jabbing pens and paper at him. I just wanted to say hello and shake his hand. No pen, no paper. Just an acknowledgement, a chance for his eyes to meet mine.
How dumb was I?
Not at all, really. “Hi, Mr. Clemente,’’ said 11-year-old me. I stuck my hand out. I don’t know if he liked it that I called him Mister, or that I wasn’t asking anything from him. I’m sure I imagined that he liked it all. No matter.
He shook my hand, asked me if I were a “ballplayer.’’ Bool-play-yer.
Yes.
“What position?’’ he wanted to know.
Second base.
“You have good hands?’’ Goo-hands.
I don’t know.
“You need good hands.’’
Would you rather have Clemente’s signature on a piece of notebook paper? Or have that conversation?
TUNE O’ THE DAY. . . The best tunes evoke the best memories. We all associate songs with where we were when we heard them, and what we were doing. For example:
Steely Dan, My Old School: Teen Club dance, 7th grade.
Elton John, Goodbye Yellow Brick Road: Spring of 1975, senior year, Winston Churchill HS.
ZZ Top, Beer Drinkers and Hell Raisers: Summer of 1978, cruising with my best friend Fred in his ‘69 VW Beetle, 8-track tape held in place by a matchbook. Nothing was so broken that a Miller pony couldn’t fix it.
Remember Miller ponys? The beer, not the animal.
And this one, another cruising staple, usually while on the endless search for a house party.
The interaction with Clemente was far more invaluable than the autograph would have been. If you're still recalling that conversation with him from 50-plus years ago, then it had an impact on you that his name in pen, on paper, would not have.
It reminds me somewhat of my experience with two Cincy legends -- the Hit King Peter Edward Rose and boxing Hall of Famer Aaron "The Hawk" Pryor.
Rose I met in Cooperstown in 2012, and I found the most ridiculous photo of Pete for him to autograph -- standing at his locker, eyes half open, rubbing his hand through his hair like he just woke up. It wasn't the autograph I was desiring, but rather just the chance to meet him and get his reaction to me wanting him to sign a photo of him that I have never seen before or since. Other folks in line thought I was nuts having Pete sign such a photo (it was that bad) and not a typical one of him batting or sliding headfirst into a bag.
When my turn in line came up, I went up, called him "Mr. Rose," told him how I admired his play since I was a kid, and handed him the photo. He took a look at it, and stated "Oh, that was a bad night. I swear I wasn't drunk, though!" and proceeded to sign it with a grin on his face. That interaction alone, for me, was worth more than the autograph.
With Pryor, I met him at a charity basketball game at Fifth Third/Shoemaker back in the mid-2000s, while home on leave from the Army. He had a booth set up on the concourse, with memorabilia and such, and I couldn't believe that one of the greatest junior welterweight champions that graced this earth was standing there. I went up and said hi to the champ, told him he was a great fighter, and how I'd watched him as a kid because my dad, who enjoyed boxing, would watch his fights often.
We talked for a few minutes, and he then proceeded to sign a photo of himself -- of him in the corner before the start of Pryor-Arguello II -- and hand it to me. No charge.
It might sound crazy, but I was over the moon to even talk to either of those guys.
Your handshake is way better than an autograph.
My business associate and I were having lunch in Chicago and in walks Ernie Banks. My associate had met him previously and we asked him to join us for lunch and he did. When his check came I grabbed it even though he protested.. I said I wanted to tell folks that one time I bought Mr. Cub’s lunch. ( a glass of Chablis and a bowl of clam chowder)