ATLANTA (AP) - The Atlanta Falcons didn’t have a pick in the first round of the NFL draft.
Not to worry.
They’re on the verge of landing something far more valuable than some stud running back or fearsome-hitting linebacker _ a new stadium costing nearly a billion dollars.
The economy may be wobbling along, struggling to break free of the worst downturn since the Great Depression, but the stadium business is doing just fine, thank you.
A few days ago, they broke ground on a new palace for the San Francisco 49ers. The good folks in Los Angeles are just clamoring to plop down $800 million or so if the NFL will give them another chance. And now, it seems, the Falcons are all but assured of getting a retractable-roof stadium in the not-so-distant future.
Never mind that the Georgia Dome is just two decades old.
“I used to think, `This had got to be the end of it. Everyone has a new stadium now. We don’t need anymore,’” said Rick Eckstein, a professor of sociology at Villanova University who wrote a book about the public financing of privately controlled stadiums. “But the life span of these places just keeps getting shorter and shorter.”
What should be getting shorter and shorter is our patience.
It’s time _ way past time, actually _ for this fiscal insanity to end. If an owner such as Atlanta’s Arthur Blank (estimated net worth: $1.3 billion) wants a new stadium, he needs to pull out his checkbook and pay for it himself.
In case he hasn’t noticed, the rest of us are busted.
Forget the obvious, that the last thing a city or state needs to be doing in these tough times is chipping in to build a new stadium. We won’t even bring up that it might be more useful to repair all those potholes that have grown to the size of craters, or hire back some of the laid-off police officers who kept those bumpy streets a little safer, or reopen schools that had to be shuttered because there wasn’t enough money to turn on the lights.
Instead, we’re going to talk about the cold, hard numbers: stadiums and arenas are bad for business.
The next economist who says that building a new sports facility makes financial sense to the public at large will be the first. There seems to be unanimous consensus among those who aren’t on the payroll of some owner or politician that no matter how you crunch the numbers, a stadium will drain more dollars out of a community than it ever pumps in. The only real benefit comes right at the beginning, from the flush of the construction dollars that are needed to throw the place up. After that, it’s a wash at best, and probably a net loss.
There’s only a handful of people _ owners, players, team employees, maybe a few businesses around the new facility _ that get any real benefit. For the most part, whatever dollars are being spent at the game are coming out of the same entertainment pot. Money that might’ve been spent on a nice dinner or to take in a movie winds up in the team’s pocket.
That’s why owners are unwilling to build their own stadiums or arenas without at least some government assistance. They know it’s a money-losing proposition, camouflaged behind vague promises of how it will help the community in ways that can’t be measured with pure numbers.