Wednesday, February 4, 2009, 11:28 AM EST
[
General]
In November, the voters of the State of Maryland approved slot machines to be installed for the "primary purpose" of funding education. The ancillary benefit would be to make Maryland's sports and entertainment industry competetive with the likes of Delaware, West Virginia, and even Pennsylvania. After all, we must save the Preakness.
The proposed law came right to the mailbox. No need to trek to the library and dust off an old book penned by Warren Berger. I read it whilst waiting for my dinner to cook. When I read it, I laughed. I told my wife, "The way they wrote this, it makes Arundel Mills [mall complex] a likely site. They want us to think it's going to Laurel [racetrack]."
Alas, proposals were received by the State. The site receiving more than one proposal? Arundel Mills Mall. For the record, I voted for the measure. I'm ambivolent about the fact it's going near the mall. When did the mall become sacred ground from which our vices should be spared? What gets me is the incredulity expressed by neighbors (who likely voted for it), and even...my favorite...the Governor of Maryland.
Either Martin O'Malley knew this would happen all along, and he could play Sargent Schultz, or he does not own a map of the State he governs. By the way, the mall is in Anne Arundel County, which houses Annapolis. So really, a map of the county would have sufficed. Know your own backyard before speaking out on others. (This man, as mayor of Baltimore, criticized the last Governor on Homeland Security issues related to the Port of Baltimore. Naturally, his city has violence, drug, and blight issues).
As with any Economy Watch Wednesday, this aside brings me to the sports world. Specifically, it brings me to Roger Goodell. The administration of Goodell has made Paul Tagliabue look like Pete Rozelle. His ability to give conflicting answers in the same presser is either buffoonery or pure genius. After all, if we can't get to the core of his beliefs, we can't pin him down on anything (hmmmm, familiar).
The NFL has been the least hit by the recession. NFL season tickets were paid for before the September collapse. The season ended before anyone compounded it with $819, $825, $900 billion in new debt. The TV deal still has some legs, and the eight game season can be written off as "a vice I can still afford."
I have previously stated that the NFL has some economic issues. We worship at the altar of the shield, but what do we make of franchises like Cincinnati, Detroit, and Jacksonville? Home blackouts are here. Seat "tarpouts" are a reality in Jacksonville.
Then there is the matter of labor peace. The 2010 season stands to be an uncapped year. This could put Dallas, New England, and Washington in an arms race that only Reagan and Gorbachev could settle. Franchises that thrive in an era of revenue sharing and expense control (Indianapolis, Green Bay, Carolina) may return to the days of Lindy Infante.
On top of that was the October story word that the NFL was trying to secure lines of credit at Bank of America, with their current (and quite favorable) loan structure about to term out. The response to the additional interest costs seems to be layoffs. The number was somewhere around 150 at last glance.
It is said that one of those 150 is NFL Films guru Steve Sabol. If it's true, then we are headed for darker times in the NFL. Granted, Steve Sabol isn't the litmus test for economic success in sports. But Sabol has done more for this league - that shield - than Goodell. Phrases like "Ghost to the Post," "Immaculate Reception," or "Miracle at the Meadowlands" mean nothing without NFL Films.
Take a look at another NFL property, the NFL Network. How many hours of "Total Access" can be viewed before it's time to see something else? What drives the content of that something else? NFL Films drives it. Those team videos that adrenaline infused fans purchase after a good season? NFL Films drives it. The mythos through which we mentally view the glory of the NFL? NFL Films drives it.
Goodell, before addressing everything on such a grand stage, know your own backyard.