If I Were Commissioner

Franchise abduction: the next victims may be Phoenix hockey fans.

The former Winnipeg Jets, now Phoenix Coyotes, are embroiled in a legal fight between the NHL and the current ownership over a proposed move to Southern Ontario.

The league says the only way another team will play anywhere between Toronto and Buffalo is if it is an expansion team.

As for the Coyotes, if the league fails its attempts to keep them in the dessert, the best option would be to return them to Winnipeg.

For more details, see Kevin van Steendelaar's article on the subject at B/R.  Kevin van Steendelaar  

With all due respect to the prospect of playing ice hockey in a climate where triple digit temperatures are the norm before the playoffs end, I'd vote for returning the team to Winnipeg no matter what, though the second-best option would be to keep them where they are.

The point is, except for extreme circumstances (extreme enough to be at least of the 100-year flood severity) sports franchises in every league should stay put.

It should be an assumption of all concerned that franchises are not portable. If I were commissioner of any of the major leagues, I would work to carve that in stone.

The photo above reflects the move that still sticks in this writer's craw, after thirty years. After only three seasons the Buffalo Braves of the NBA were a franchise on the way up.

With Hall of Famer Bob McAdoo and NBA All-stars such as Randy Smith, Jim McMillain, Tom McMillen, Ernie Digregorio and many more, the Braves had a loyal fan base in Buffalo (a hockey town) won as many as 49 games in a season, and challenged the two Eastern powers of the era, the Knicks and the Celts, for dominance in the Conference.

But by year eight, when the local owner needed to sell, the league had no problem with allowing the team to be stripped and sold off for salvage before moving the skeletal remains to San Diego and eventually to Los Angeles as the Clippers.

Similar pain is still felt in numerous cities by any true fan old enough to remember the original Cleveland Browns, the Baltimore Colts, the (fill in the blank) NFL Cardinals, the New Orleans Jazz, the Seattle Supersonics, the Kansas City-Omaha Kings and their precursors, the Cincinnati Royals.

Add the Washington Senators, half of the NHL (including the Jets/Coyotes) and the list gets unwieldy.

Yes, I realize professional sports is big business, and I generally tend to be a strict free market adherent.

But I'm at the point of concluding that while professional sports could and should be a profitable operation in just about any metropolitan area with a million-plus population, it is business with a unique civic responsibility.

In the United States and Canada, our professional teams are linked exclusively and explicitly to the cities or regions in which they play.  Their capitalist owners depend on the region getting behind the team to make the business a success.

If tickets aren't sold, the business fails. In many cases, the host city or county or state or some super- regional government entity is expected to put out hundreds of millions of dollars to provide a new venue every 20 years.

Yet, despite the emotional, psychological, and financial commitment that's required for any local team to succeed financially, owners play fast and loose with those loyalties, threaten to move the team if the next generation stadium isn't built, and/or are easily lured to the next town offering a better deal.

Well, the owners can't have it both ways. You want loyal fans? You want butts in the seats even when the team is losing? You want the city to pay for all or part of the next arena or stadium? Then you have to agree, as part of your contract of ownership, that you will not move the team.

If you need to raise money, sell some shares to the fans. There would be no shortage of bidders for a piece of the beloved team. And, one more thing, Mr. or Ms. Owner.

You have to live in the city in which your team is located, at least during the season. You have to make it your primary residence. You have to pay taxes there, right along with the fans.

Too much to ask? Why? Many cities require their police officers to live in the town they protect, so why not demand that the team owners live in the town their teams represent. 

The same is true in government. If you want to be Senator from Alaska, you have to live in Alaska.

There are few forces in any metropolitan community or region that inspire as much civic pride and morale than major league professional sports teams. Communities and individuals derive more than a little sense of well being and belonging from the presence and influence of these teams.

When a team leaves, real economic damage is done. There is a measurable loss in hometown self-esteem.

It could be argued, that the loss of a major league franchise does more long term damage to a community than the loss of a major employer. One can argue the appropriateness of this phenomenon but not the reality of it.

This being said, as franchises are bought and sold in the future, it would behoove the leagues and their respective commissioners to look for a different sort of owner.

The Green Bay approach to fan ownership, now curtailed, should be reconsidered as not only an option, but as a desirable option.

Syndicates of local business and industry should also be encouraged to take a stake. Local and regional governments should be eligible and should consider making a serious bid.

Further, revenue sharing should be expanded so that smaller market teams are protected and preserved not only for survival in their current venues, but for competitiveness.

The leagues benefit from parity and from a presence in the Buffalos, Green Bays, Portlands and Clevelands as much as in the mega-cities and the glamour towns.

There is an extra dimension of narrative in a game between LA and Buffalo or Green Bay and New York that can't be replicated if there are no small market, blue collar entries.

The Cinderella effect is what has made March Madness "mad" and the presence of small market, unglamourous cities in major league competition is the professional equivalent of March Madness.  

Without the stepsister at the Ball, the story loses a good deal of its intrigue.