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COMMENTARY
Labor unease reflects poorly on Tagliabue
By LARRY FELSER
3/5/2006
The Golden Goose that made the National Football League the most profitable enterprise in sports has a temporary reprieve before it faces a firing squad armed by greed. But the "united front" of owners claimed by Commissioner Paul Tagliabue is as flimsy as a cardboard playhouse.
To the public, which was surprised by this sudden malfunction of a league where players and coaches have been getting rich and owners getting richer, it's your basic management-worker dispute, with some sort of work stoppage threatening the 2008 season if the matter isn't resolved by Monday.
But it's far more complicated than that. It's a battle between owners of large-market, high-revenue teams against owners of small-market, relatively low-revenue teams. The Buffalo Bills, whose ticket prices are below the NFL average and who do not reap a financial whirlwind from their broadcast and advertising contracts, are among the latter.
The NFL has been a top-to-bottom financial success because for five decades it has practiced socialism for the well-to-do. It has pooled its television revenue evenly among all its teams and mandates that for every game the visitors receive 40 percent of the gate receipts.
For the last decade, however, the age of American elitism has taken over pro football with luxury suites, "official" sponsorships of everything from paper cups to the naming of stadiums. That extra income, which is humongous in places like Dallas and Denver, does not have to be split with their partner teams. Now, if the salary cap disappears as a result of the inability of the league to sign a new collective bargaining agreement with the Players Association, the large-market teams will be able to convert pro football into what reigns in major league baseball - yearly domination by fewer than a dozen teams with the rest as bottom feeders. The owners of small-market NFL franchises want to avoid this by creating some sort of pool of that extra income, subsidizing smaller franchises in order to maintain equality and parity and keep 32 stadiums relatively full each season. The large-market franchise holders are balking.
How did the Golden Goose get into such jeopardy? The answer begins with Tagliabue.
His inability to coax, reason or strong-arm a half-dozen owners like Jerry Jones of Dallas, Daniel Snyder of Washington, Bob McNair of Houston and Robert Kraft of New England is a major reason for the current crisis.
Tagliabue has been commissioner for 17 years, succeeding the late Pete Rozelle in 1989. During his tenure, especially after the merger between the AFL and NFL, Rozelle mother-henned the league into its position as the most popular sport in America and a titan of public popularity on television. Tagliabue followed his path.
But what Tagliabue has become was made clear in a recent profile in Sports Illustrated. In it the commissioner made it plain that he is above his present position, and that he has become bored with running a football league and his real interests now lie with other things "like international agriculture."
He was a powerful corporate lawyer before he joined Rozelle's staff and the profile presented a man who thinks it was him who blazed the trail for the NFL's unparalleled success. In no part of the story did he credit Rozelle with the special leadership that made him beloved by the people who worked for him and most of those who paid his salary. His successor comes across as arrogant to the point of suffocation.
The scene of the magazine's profile was Mexico City in mid-October at the first regular-season game played on foreign soil in NFL history. In one vignette, Tagliabue's wife describes the cocktail parties surrounding such games as more interesting than football.
I imagined the reaction of the Rooney family of Pittsburgh, the Browns of Cincinnati, the Maras of New York, the Bidwills of Arizona, the Fords of Detroit, much less confirmed members of the anti-Tag club such as Ralph Wilson and Al Davis, when they read the piece.
This dispute should never have reached the crisis stage. There was plenty of time to get it settled a long time ago, but Tagliabue, seemingly uninterested, held himself above the fray.
The Golden Goose received a reprieve, not a pardon. If he doesn't get that pardon by Monday, pro football may never be the same.
(Larry Felser, former News columnist, appears in Sunday's editions).
Labor unease reflects poorly on Tagliabue
By LARRY FELSER
3/5/2006
The Golden Goose that made the National Football League the most profitable enterprise in sports has a temporary reprieve before it faces a firing squad armed by greed. But the "united front" of owners claimed by Commissioner Paul Tagliabue is as flimsy as a cardboard playhouse.
To the public, which was surprised by this sudden malfunction of a league where players and coaches have been getting rich and owners getting richer, it's your basic management-worker dispute, with some sort of work stoppage threatening the 2008 season if the matter isn't resolved by Monday.
But it's far more complicated than that. It's a battle between owners of large-market, high-revenue teams against owners of small-market, relatively low-revenue teams. The Buffalo Bills, whose ticket prices are below the NFL average and who do not reap a financial whirlwind from their broadcast and advertising contracts, are among the latter.
The NFL has been a top-to-bottom financial success because for five decades it has practiced socialism for the well-to-do. It has pooled its television revenue evenly among all its teams and mandates that for every game the visitors receive 40 percent of the gate receipts.
For the last decade, however, the age of American elitism has taken over pro football with luxury suites, "official" sponsorships of everything from paper cups to the naming of stadiums. That extra income, which is humongous in places like Dallas and Denver, does not have to be split with their partner teams. Now, if the salary cap disappears as a result of the inability of the league to sign a new collective bargaining agreement with the Players Association, the large-market teams will be able to convert pro football into what reigns in major league baseball - yearly domination by fewer than a dozen teams with the rest as bottom feeders. The owners of small-market NFL franchises want to avoid this by creating some sort of pool of that extra income, subsidizing smaller franchises in order to maintain equality and parity and keep 32 stadiums relatively full each season. The large-market franchise holders are balking.
How did the Golden Goose get into such jeopardy? The answer begins with Tagliabue.
His inability to coax, reason or strong-arm a half-dozen owners like Jerry Jones of Dallas, Daniel Snyder of Washington, Bob McNair of Houston and Robert Kraft of New England is a major reason for the current crisis.
Tagliabue has been commissioner for 17 years, succeeding the late Pete Rozelle in 1989. During his tenure, especially after the merger between the AFL and NFL, Rozelle mother-henned the league into its position as the most popular sport in America and a titan of public popularity on television. Tagliabue followed his path.
But what Tagliabue has become was made clear in a recent profile in Sports Illustrated. In it the commissioner made it plain that he is above his present position, and that he has become bored with running a football league and his real interests now lie with other things "like international agriculture."
He was a powerful corporate lawyer before he joined Rozelle's staff and the profile presented a man who thinks it was him who blazed the trail for the NFL's unparalleled success. In no part of the story did he credit Rozelle with the special leadership that made him beloved by the people who worked for him and most of those who paid his salary. His successor comes across as arrogant to the point of suffocation.
The scene of the magazine's profile was Mexico City in mid-October at the first regular-season game played on foreign soil in NFL history. In one vignette, Tagliabue's wife describes the cocktail parties surrounding such games as more interesting than football.
I imagined the reaction of the Rooney family of Pittsburgh, the Browns of Cincinnati, the Maras of New York, the Bidwills of Arizona, the Fords of Detroit, much less confirmed members of the anti-Tag club such as Ralph Wilson and Al Davis, when they read the piece.
This dispute should never have reached the crisis stage. There was plenty of time to get it settled a long time ago, but Tagliabue, seemingly uninterested, held himself above the fray.
The Golden Goose received a reprieve, not a pardon. If he doesn't get that pardon by Monday, pro football may never be the same.
(Larry Felser, former News columnist, appears in Sunday's editions).
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