Spit ball

The Fenway megaplex proposal raises serious questions, but the mayor and the Red Sox are in bed together. Answers will have to come from the state legislature and the city council.

When the Red Sox brass unveiled their model for the ballpark-office-entertainment megaplex that they hope will replace Fenway Park, City Hall oozed soothing words.

The Menino administration, working hand in glove with Sox management, assured the public that neighborhood concerns would be met; that City Hall and the Sox would be able to persuade doubters that the Fenway neighborhood was the only location worth considering; and that questions about who would pay for what (in other words, how much would be required in public subsidies) would soon be worked out.

Nearly three months later, it seems clear that Menino and the Sox are determined to force the megaplex down the Fenway's throat and foist on the general public a plan that has been neither justified nor even fully explained.

Anyone who attended the most recent of the three public meetings on the Sox' proposal might think the team was a not-for-profit charitable organization, rather than a multimillion-dollar privately held company seeking a massive infusion of public cash to maximize profits and increase the team's value when it is sold, which must eventually happen under the terms of the trust that owns the Sox.

That, of course, is the genius behind the attempts of the cold-blooded Sox brass to portray themselves as considerate and sensitive neighbors. They are anything but. Until they wanted something, they offered and provided nothing. To those who live and work here, they've been unresponsive, arrogant, and uncaring.

Now the Sox and the city, using public funds, are promising amenities and improvements (such as adequate utility connections) to their long-ignored neighbors, if only those neighbors will roll over and acquiesce to the team's desires. Why weren't those improvements forthcoming before? In our mind, the answer is simple: because neither the Sox nor the city cared about the neighborhood. And now, lo and behold, they do.

At this point, one would think that team management and city agencies would be able to tell us how it will affect the already congested neighborhood if another 800,000 people or more pass through each year. But they can't or they won't.

Instead, the Sox and City Hall bob and weave. The team cites its own study saying that the impact will be minimal, but it has released only summaries of that research. Why not release the full report?

Why has City Hall failed to explain convincingly why a new park -- which the fans and players richly deserve -- might not be built elsewhere? The waterfront area and the South Bay site near the old incinerator along the Southeast Expressway are just two examples of sites where a park might be better accommodated.

The Sox, after all, stand to profit from a new park wherever it is built. And a new park could serve as an important development anchor, creatively changing Boston's cityscape in places that need revitalization. But we've yet to see any solid evidence that the Menino administration has honestly considered any option but the Fenway. That may be a function of political expedience or lack of imagination -- or it may reflect other unrevealed priorities.

The Fenway doesn't need a new ballpark to ensure a healthy future. With little or no help from recent mayors, the neighborhood has been regenerating itself. At this point, the plans for a new park bring more problems than solutions -- increased congestion, more air pollution, and the costly taking of land from already vibrant businesses, to name but a few.

It's well known that the Phoenix has a clear interest in defeating this project. If the Sox' plans go forward, our building -- along with other Fenway businesses, most smaller than ourselves -- will be brushed aside. Years of collective effort and millions of dollars of private investment (and we stress private, for taxpayers' dollars weren't involved) will be lost.

Because we and our neighbors know the Sox management as well as we do, we know that it is opportunistic and disingenuous. After years of living with the crowds, the traffic, the double-parked cars, the shut-down streets, and the litter that the Sox feel no obligation to clean up, the Fenway community has earned the right to view the team with suspicion, if not disdain.

City and state taxpayers would be wise to do so as well. After years of planning, the Sox have yet to announce how they will pay for the new megaplex. If they have private sources of funding, why not make them public? How much public financing will be needed? All we have is an estimate of $550 million (which is guaranteed to grow higher) and a flurry of feel-good press releases, long on rhetoric and short on details.

The "party line" puts the cost of the land-taking alone at $65 million, but some expert estimates suggest that the real cost, after the inevitable lawsuits, could be more than three times that amount. And whatever the cost, the use of eminent domain under these circumstances raises serious constitutional questions about abuse of governmental power.

We don't believe the truth will be forthcoming from either the Sox or the mayor. Clearly, it's going to be up to the state legislature and the city council to get legitimate answers to the legitimate questions posed by this proposal. City Hall, the Boston Redevelopment Authority, the Red Sox, and their army of consultants and PR strategists are seriously miscalculating if they believe they can bully or wear down the people who make their homes and their livelihoods in the Fenway.

What do you think? Send an e-mail to letters[a]phx.com.