Angry Pope
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Is it worth it to bring NFL back to L.A.?
Randy Hill
With camps being set up around the country, it's a fine time to salute Los Angeles ... now celebrating 13 years without the NFL.
Well, not exactly everyone is celebrating. Quite a few L.A.-area citizens have been missing alfresco professional football since the Raiders and Rams bartered their way out of Southern California more than a dozen years ago.
But while L.A. loves the NFL a lot more than outside knuckleheads want to believe, very few tax-paying locals are eager to cough up public loot to make it return. And that's where the salute comes in. With more than $16 billion in public money surrendered to the construction of American sporting venues over the past 15 years, L.A. has contributed relatively little to that total.
Its most recent sporting playpen, the $400 million-plus Staples Center, was built with less than 20 percent in taxpayer money. That's still too much of a public contribution, but it seems a lot more palpable than the fleecing that has occurred in many American cities.
As a target of scorn and ridicule from people who don't live there, L.A. often is considered unworthy of a team. That's just stupid. While its ticket-buying public generally refuses to be defined by the teams it roots for, L.A. is a fine sports town.
An attendance roll call finds the Dodgers, Angels and Lakers as teams with loyal fan bases, with the Clippers checking in way above slouch level. A college football Saturday will lead more than 150,000 fans into the Coliseum and Rose Bowl to watch USC and UCLA, respectively, during overlapping time slots.
I've covered Raider games at the Coliseum that attracted more than 90,000 fans — dozens of them not fighting each other.
Most major sporting leagues in the United States would be greatly diminished without the athletes who grew up or were developed in Los Angeles.
But L.A.'s image as the day-care center for Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan inspires most of the nation to think the region deserves what it doesn't get. Most of these sharpies fail to understand L.A.'s refusal to continue embracing NFL teams that were looking for the public to finance stadium-related windfalls.
Georgia Frontiere, the Morganna of NFL owners, made it known that her lame-duck Rams were off to a big payday — and new domed stadium — in St. Louis. To provoke fans into visiting the beach on Sundays, she hired Chuck Knox to coach the team into a coma.
Al Davis, the managing general swing-your-partner of the Raiders, had spent several years browbeating various L.A.-area entities into subsidizing a new home for the Silver and Black. Unfortunately, he didn't do a very good job in maintaining the greatness of the Raiders.
As the on-field mystique became marginalized, the Raiders did little to prevent the escalation of their outlaw image. Games became more violent in the stands than on the field. A visit to the Coliseum eventually seemed as safe and light-hearted as a sleepover with Hannibal Lecter.
Witness-caliber testosterone was accelerated by the lovely and rhythmic Raiderettes, who qualified as the only NFL cheerleaders to dress more provocatively after the game than during the game.
Anyway, when Oakland offered up its taxpayers on a Silver and Black platter, Al returned to the Bay Area. Raiders fans were rewarded with PSLs and bad — with a couple of playoff-success exceptions — pro football.
Since then, L.A. groups have attempted to bring back the NFL with a Keystone-Kops level of finesse. Doomed L.A. stadium plans have littered the landscape at NFL owners meetings. An expansion-franchise showdown was lost to Houston, where taxpayers coughed up about $320 million to build a stadium for the Texans.
But Houston has nothing on Seattle, where — despite the presence of billionaire owner Paul Allen — taxpayers reportedly funded 75 percent of the cost to create a new home for the Seahawks.
In Dallas, taxpayers will take a $325 million hit for the Cowboys' new stadium, which is about what it cost Arizonans to help finance a palace for the historically mighty Cardinals. Taxpayers in Cleveland provided more than $280 million to resurrect the beloved Browns while the city's schools were in receivership.
The public cost of building a new facility for the Jets and Giants in New York is obscene.
Despite the sticker shock, the investment probably pays off, right? Doesn't the presence of pro football in a gleaming new stadium generate a financial boom for the entire city?
That's a nice theory. But according to recent studies, professional sports teams and their luxury-boxed cathedrals rarely provide more than one percent of a county's jobs or payroll.
While a stadium renaissance is not required to save L.A., one is needed before the NFL returns there. The most recent pitches arrived from the Coliseum, the Rose Bowl and those offering land near Angels Stadium in Anaheim of Los Angeles.
As proof that the league needs L.A. more than L.A. need the league, the NFL is prepared to absorb the base cost of building a venue for a Southern California team. Unfortunately, L.A. mayor Antonio Villaraigosa pledged about $25 million in tax revenues for peripheral costs during the Big L.A./NFL Pitch of 2006.
That pitch included Anaheim dangling a free parcel of land worth $150 million and Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger leading the march by lobbying for two NFL teams to be fielded in the L.A. region.
In the meantime, the Coliseum must consider making a deal to restore a relationship with one long-time tenant — USC football — without killing its goal of landing an NFL team.
Without the Coliseum, the NFL has one less option in its return-to-L.A. portfolio and one less reason to need Los Angeles. And let's not kid ourselves.
The NFL still seems to be doing great without a team in L.A.
L.A. will continue to be a major asset to the league — as a threatened destination for stadium-seeking franchises attempting to hold their cities hostage.
Here's a solution: continue using L.A. by allowing slumping teams to play in the Coliseum until they're all better. We'll refer to it as NFL Franchise Rehab.
Randy Hill
With camps being set up around the country, it's a fine time to salute Los Angeles ... now celebrating 13 years without the NFL.
Well, not exactly everyone is celebrating. Quite a few L.A.-area citizens have been missing alfresco professional football since the Raiders and Rams bartered their way out of Southern California more than a dozen years ago.
But while L.A. loves the NFL a lot more than outside knuckleheads want to believe, very few tax-paying locals are eager to cough up public loot to make it return. And that's where the salute comes in. With more than $16 billion in public money surrendered to the construction of American sporting venues over the past 15 years, L.A. has contributed relatively little to that total.
Its most recent sporting playpen, the $400 million-plus Staples Center, was built with less than 20 percent in taxpayer money. That's still too much of a public contribution, but it seems a lot more palpable than the fleecing that has occurred in many American cities.
As a target of scorn and ridicule from people who don't live there, L.A. often is considered unworthy of a team. That's just stupid. While its ticket-buying public generally refuses to be defined by the teams it roots for, L.A. is a fine sports town.
An attendance roll call finds the Dodgers, Angels and Lakers as teams with loyal fan bases, with the Clippers checking in way above slouch level. A college football Saturday will lead more than 150,000 fans into the Coliseum and Rose Bowl to watch USC and UCLA, respectively, during overlapping time slots.
I've covered Raider games at the Coliseum that attracted more than 90,000 fans — dozens of them not fighting each other.
Most major sporting leagues in the United States would be greatly diminished without the athletes who grew up or were developed in Los Angeles.
But L.A.'s image as the day-care center for Paris Hilton and Lindsay Lohan inspires most of the nation to think the region deserves what it doesn't get. Most of these sharpies fail to understand L.A.'s refusal to continue embracing NFL teams that were looking for the public to finance stadium-related windfalls.
Georgia Frontiere, the Morganna of NFL owners, made it known that her lame-duck Rams were off to a big payday — and new domed stadium — in St. Louis. To provoke fans into visiting the beach on Sundays, she hired Chuck Knox to coach the team into a coma.
Al Davis, the managing general swing-your-partner of the Raiders, had spent several years browbeating various L.A.-area entities into subsidizing a new home for the Silver and Black. Unfortunately, he didn't do a very good job in maintaining the greatness of the Raiders.
As the on-field mystique became marginalized, the Raiders did little to prevent the escalation of their outlaw image. Games became more violent in the stands than on the field. A visit to the Coliseum eventually seemed as safe and light-hearted as a sleepover with Hannibal Lecter.
Witness-caliber testosterone was accelerated by the lovely and rhythmic Raiderettes, who qualified as the only NFL cheerleaders to dress more provocatively after the game than during the game.
Anyway, when Oakland offered up its taxpayers on a Silver and Black platter, Al returned to the Bay Area. Raiders fans were rewarded with PSLs and bad — with a couple of playoff-success exceptions — pro football.
Since then, L.A. groups have attempted to bring back the NFL with a Keystone-Kops level of finesse. Doomed L.A. stadium plans have littered the landscape at NFL owners meetings. An expansion-franchise showdown was lost to Houston, where taxpayers coughed up about $320 million to build a stadium for the Texans.
But Houston has nothing on Seattle, where — despite the presence of billionaire owner Paul Allen — taxpayers reportedly funded 75 percent of the cost to create a new home for the Seahawks.
In Dallas, taxpayers will take a $325 million hit for the Cowboys' new stadium, which is about what it cost Arizonans to help finance a palace for the historically mighty Cardinals. Taxpayers in Cleveland provided more than $280 million to resurrect the beloved Browns while the city's schools were in receivership.
The public cost of building a new facility for the Jets and Giants in New York is obscene.
Despite the sticker shock, the investment probably pays off, right? Doesn't the presence of pro football in a gleaming new stadium generate a financial boom for the entire city?
That's a nice theory. But according to recent studies, professional sports teams and their luxury-boxed cathedrals rarely provide more than one percent of a county's jobs or payroll.
While a stadium renaissance is not required to save L.A., one is needed before the NFL returns there. The most recent pitches arrived from the Coliseum, the Rose Bowl and those offering land near Angels Stadium in Anaheim of Los Angeles.
As proof that the league needs L.A. more than L.A. need the league, the NFL is prepared to absorb the base cost of building a venue for a Southern California team. Unfortunately, L.A. mayor Antonio Villaraigosa pledged about $25 million in tax revenues for peripheral costs during the Big L.A./NFL Pitch of 2006.
That pitch included Anaheim dangling a free parcel of land worth $150 million and Gov. Arnold Schwarzenegger leading the march by lobbying for two NFL teams to be fielded in the L.A. region.
In the meantime, the Coliseum must consider making a deal to restore a relationship with one long-time tenant — USC football — without killing its goal of landing an NFL team.
Without the Coliseum, the NFL has one less option in its return-to-L.A. portfolio and one less reason to need Los Angeles. And let's not kid ourselves.
The NFL still seems to be doing great without a team in L.A.
L.A. will continue to be a major asset to the league — as a threatened destination for stadium-seeking franchises attempting to hold their cities hostage.
Here's a solution: continue using L.A. by allowing slumping teams to play in the Coliseum until they're all better. We'll refer to it as NFL Franchise Rehab.
