COMMENTARY : Sacramento Raider Bid a ‘Success’

Groucho Marx used to insist that he wouldn’t belong to any club that would have him for a member. I got through my hard, lonely teens by embracing a corollary of Groucho’s idea: I wouldn’t want any girl who wasn’t bright enough to want me. Utica, N.Y., alas, was full of those.

I offer this now as a way for Sacramento to cope with the apparent rejection of Raiders owner Al Davis:

Why weep for a guy who’s too dim to want us?

And beyond that, who’d want a league that would have Al for a member?

Ah, well, that’s probably stretching it.

But life will go on here should Al pass the town over as the home for his football team--which, from all available evidence, is a virtual lock. The city’s deadline on its $50-million bribe is just two days away. City fathers (and mothers) have vowed no extension. Davis has said he won’t seek one. And his discussions with the people in Oakland have been productive, we’re told.

He will either keep his team in Los Angeles or move it to Oakland, and Sacramento is no longer an option, apparently.

The truth of it is, it may never have been.

That would come as no great surprise, though we never will know--assuming that Al doesn’t spring the surprise of his life in the next 48 hours. The only man who can know about his intentions for sure is Davis himself . . . and he isn’t likely to submit to a sodium pentothal quiz.

Right from the first, however, those who know the man wondered if Sacramento was merely a bargaining chip in Al’s plan. Our sports entrepreneurs bought Al’s pitch. Our politicians did too. And you could see how they might. Al is cunning and charming. He can be quite convincing.

But what shakes out is this: We were probably used.

Still, it’s simple enough to make a case that we’ll come out ahead either way, that we’re a little the better just for doing the drill.

For one thing, Sacramento got $50-million worth of credibility without spending a dime.

It could be, without really meaning to, that we used Al a little.

The whole country is aware now that this town is a player in the quest for new teams. We did more than talk. We put our dough where our mouth was, and it won’t go unnoticed.

Gregg Lukenbill, the developer who bought the city a basketball team and built its arena, knows now that the political backing is there when he sits down to talk, even if he has dropped a ball or two. He didn’t blow smoke here. He had Davis’ ear. He even had his unlisted phone number.

And if he didn’t deliver this time, there’s no reason to blame him. He says, and there is no reason to doubt it, that there are other interested parties to talk to.

Moreover, the market for a baseball franchise and the city’s financial resources to lure one remain undiluted. There is only so much that a town of 1.4 million people can be expected to patronize.

Professional sports, like anything else, is a numbers game. If you have a million people, say, you can probably support one average team or two outstanding ones, and if the one team is bad, it might not survive. If you have another 400,000, like Sacramento, you can support one awful team awfully well, or a couple of average ones.

But Sacramento is small enough that three would be risky.

No city this small has major league baseball. The World Almanac lists Sacramento as the nation’s 27th-largest metropolitan area, its numbers based on the cities’ contiguous urban area.

(In terms of “media markets”--based on people within 50 miles of the city center--Sacramento fares better, 19th.)

Kansas City, No. 24 with 1.54 million, is the smallest town with major league baseball. But K.C. also has football.

Of the 36 largest U.S. cities, all but five have more than one of the following within 50 miles: big league baseball, football, basketball, hockey or a Division I power. Tampa-St. Petersburg (1.9 million) is the largest with only one (football). They’re pushing hard to get baseball there.

Sacramento is next.

There is also Sacramento’s growth rate to consider: 21.5% since 1980. In ‘80, the town numbered not quite 1.1 million. Only five of the 26 bigger cities are swelling that quickly.

The point is a simple one: A lot of clubs, baseball, football, perhaps even hockey, would be only too happy to have us for members. Unlike Groucho, however, I doubt we’ll refuse.