Out of Their League

Credit to George Plimpton for the headline. It’s the title of a book he wrote in the 1960s about pitching to big leaguers at an All-Star game. They lit him up, as ballplayers would say, destroying the author’s Walter Mitty dream of diamond glory. These days big leaguers still are lighting up amateurs. The action now, however, takes place not on the field but in city halls, where team owners wield the heavy lumber.

Somehow, as if by secret signal, city governments up and down California now find themselves working furiously to appease professional sports teams. Forget about potholes. Sports is the new meat of municipal government. It is not enough to make the buses run on time. Now the buses must run on time to a new Sports Palace.

It is happening here in San Diego, where the city fears it might lose the Chargers and Padres without $78 million in stadium improvements. It is happening in Sacramento, where a basketball mediocrity known as the Kings threatened to leave town unless the city sweetened its arena deal by $70 million. It is happening in Fresno, where the latest of countless “visions” for downtown requires the city to cough up $40 million for a minor league baseball stadium.

It is happening in San Francisco, where the baseball Giants want a new ballpark downtown and the football 49ers are angling for an improved stadium--complete with a $400-million shopping mall for tailgaters. And it is happening in Greater Los Angeles, which not only has lost its football teams to lesser Oakland and St. Louis, but now must calculate the ransom required to keep the post-O’Malley Dodgers. At least the Humboldt Crabs are staying put. For now.

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In these cases the details vary--and within the details, as they say, lurks the devil. What might make sense for San Diego and Jack Murphy Stadium, say, does not necessarily pencil out for Fresno. Still, there are broader strokes that apply to all. In almost every instance, for example, a mayor has not slept for many nights out of fear of losing a franchise. In almost every instance, another city is perched, buzzard-like, set to snatch up the team should negotiations falter.

The sums of money involved are enough to levitate Howard Jarvis. Cities where cops can’t be found and where school roofs leak talk grandly of spending $40 million . . . $70 million . . . $100 million to provide a ritzier playground for the pros. Typically, the talks center on more “luxury” boxes, a great concern of populists everywhere. But oh, the city officials promise, not a dime will come from taxpayers. THIS PROJECT, they fairly shout, WILL PAY FOR ITSELF, adding in more whispery tones:

At least in the foreseeable future.

With a few exceptions.

Under most conditions of the lease.

While there are successes, such deals all too often do not pan out as promised. (See Oakland, currently hobbled by the overly sweet contract it threw Al Davis’ way to woo back the Raiders.) In this game, city politicians simply are outmatched. They find themselves across the table from operators who have made fortunes in the big poker house of high-stakes commerce.

“They are intimidated,” said a former team owner who has been there many times. “Either they cave, or they go the other way and stupidly fight a deal even when it’s to their advantage. Either way, they cost their city.”

He ended the thought with a chuckle.

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Of course it can be cumbersome, negotiating with a gun pressed against the ear. Professional sports leagues represent a last haven for American monopolists. By seducing senators with vague promises of future expansion franchises back home, the leagues have maintained permission to end run antitrust laws and hold down the number of teams. This creates an artificial scarcity, giving owners ultimate leverage: Play ball, or we shuffle off to Buffalo. Or Irwindale.

City officials make matters worse by wanting these teams beyond all economic reason. They have become hypnotized by the voodoo of the multiplier effect. They have come to believe, wrongly, that it is the foremost duty of municipal governments to act as venture capitalists. Besides, it’s an opportunity to pal around with the quarterback.

In his book “Playing the Field,” Charles C. Euchner, a political science professor at Holy Cross, observes: “Stadiums and sports teams are luxuries that fiscally strapped cities can ill afford--yet have great difficulty bypassing because of the potency of symbolic notions like ‘renaissance’ and ‘major league status.’ ”

To take his thought further, the modern city leader senses that there is limited glory in working to keep libraries open, or put more cops on the beat, or maintain the waterworks, or any of the other prosaic business of city government. Much more thrilling to play at being a sports impresario. That taxpayers bankroll the game can only add to the fun.