Behind the Red Sox shocker
(continued)
by Seth Gitell
The question of what is being sold naturally leads to another:
who will be doing the selling? So far it's unclear whether any of the
Red Sox limited partners not directly tied to the Yawkey Trust will put its
interest in the team up for sale. Will the Aramark Corporation, a food and
drink concessionaire, sell what the Boston Herald reports is a 17.45
percent stake in the team? Will team doctor Arthur M. Pappas sell his 4.66
percent stake? Will Harrington unload his 2.33 percent stake? Harrington has
thus far brushed off questions about his individual interest in the team,
choosing to focus on his duty as a trustee of the Yawkey Trust. On Monday,
Harrington told the Boston Globe he would eventually sell his stake, but
not as part of the Yawkey Trust sale.
Where we stand
The offices of the Boston Phoenix will be displaced if the Red Sox are
allowed to build a new park in the Fenway neighborhood. The Phoenix has
editorialized that players and fans deserve a new park, but that it would be
better placed in a different neighborhood, such as South Bay. To read our
coverage of the issue, visit www.bostonphoenix.com/archive/features/fenway.html.
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The most interesting player is Aramark. What would happen if a new owner didn't
buy out the concessionaire, but wanted to put the food and drink business out
to bid? It's easy to imagine Aramark trying to block a new owner from bringing
in a different concessionaire to handle ballpark food. Morreale acknowledges
that the limited partners have an important role to play in approving the sale
of the team. A majority of them must agree to the new owner for the deal to go
through.
So let's say the deal gets done. Another question arises: what happens to
Beacon Hill's ballpark legislation? The way the legislation is written, new
team owners would be eligible to receive the $275 million in government
aid -- as long as they build in the Fenway. But if a new owner decides to
venture outside this area, all bets are off: the stadium legislation, which
refers to Yawkey Way and Kilmarnock Street, is site specific. There could be
trouble even if Harrington successfully flips his legislative deal to a
deep-pocketed purchaser who intends to build in the Fenway. Generally speaking,
legislative deals hinge on public goodwill, so it's possible that choosing the
wrong owner -- say, a megabillion-dollar media company -- could be fatal to the
project. After all, giving such an owner access to the public coffers seems
wrong.
As everyone in this tribal town never ceases to remark, politicians have
the power to kill deals they don't like. There's nothing to stop House Speaker
Tom Finneran, for instance, from drafting legislation to revoke the Fenway deal
if he wants (no one from Finneran's office returned telephone calls by press
time). Whether that happens is likely to hinge not only on who the new owner
is, but also on how long it takes to complete the sale. When Kansas City Royals
president Michael Herman announced the sale of that team, for instance, it took
two years to finish the deal -- despite heavy interest from potential
bidders. Anything could happen in two years. War could break out, oil prices
could skyrocket, and the United States could plunge into a recession -- hey,
it's been known to happen. Would the state's leaders then be so quick to spend
nearly $300 million of the public's money?
State Representative Byron Rushing (South End and Fenway) is already pushing to
set a deadline for the expenditure of public funds on a new ballpark, after
which the legislation would become void. Rushing was to meet with other
representatives on Tuesday to discuss the matter. Meanwhile, the House must
also correct a technical error in the legislation, regarding the application of
one of the taxes paying for the project. Still, nearly everyone on Beacon Hill
agrees on one thing: no one wants to reopen the deal to give the Red Sox more
protection from cost overruns, especially before we know who the new owner will
be.
Even as speculation swirls about potential new owners, some observers are
asking whether alternate locations for a new ballpark are back in play. When
Mayor Thomas Menino strolled into the Eagle Room at Boston City Hall, baseball
bat in hand, to face eight television cameras for a press conference last
Friday, he forcefully denied that a sale of the Red Sox meant the end to his
Fenway plan for the team. "It's the same location," Menino said. "The site's
the site right now." (Menino first received word about the sale around 12:30
p.m. on Friday, when he was attending a health-care conference in the Indian
Treaty Room of the White House. He insisted that he hadn't been told in advance
and said he was just as surprised as anyone else at Harrington's decision.)
Menino bristled at the idea that other locations for the new stadium might be
reconsidered. "The thing I have an issue with is that we've shown you the other
sites," he said. "The Red Sox picked the site -- unless the deep pockets want
to buy block after block of city land." He also seemed annoyed at the notion
that another mayor -- such as Dorothy Kelly Gay of Somerville, Thomas Ambrosino
of Revere, David Ragucci of Everett, or Jim Sheets of Quincy -- might make a
grab for the team. "A lot of mayors might make an offer," he grudgingly
acknowledged. "But why keep changing the sites?"
But the new owner = new site equation is being calculated all over
the city -- if for no other reason than because it breathes new life into a
tired story line. On Tuesday, Boston Globe columnist Joan Vennochi wrote
about a waterfront plan -- not the old Fort Point Channel scenario, but a new
one that includes developer Frank McCourt. McCourt's involvement is interesting
because he is one of the few players in town who have something that everyone
else wants -- land, in his case 25 acres of it. That's enough land, as it
happens, to build a baseball park on. By gaining McCourt's help in exchange for
a piece of the team, a new owner could shave millions of dollars off the costs
of land acquisition and preparation -- which are currently estimated at
$140 million for the Fenway, but may be much higher (see "Fenway
Neighborhood May Be Too Expensive for the Red Sox," News and Features, May
25).
Another scheme involving McCourt could see him exchange partial ownership of
his waterfront parcel for partial ownership of the land where Fenway Park
currently sits. This way, the new owners of the Sox could build a stadium on
the waterfront at a relatively low price. McCourt, meanwhile, would get to
develop land in the Fenway. Almost any scenario involving McCourt is plausible
for two reasons -- not only because he owns enough land, but also because from
Boston City Council president Jimmy Kelly is sending new, more moderate
signals. Kelly was deeply damaged by his role in the South Boston linkage
affair -- and he may be willing to compromise on a waterfront ballpark deal if
the political price is right.
Before Harrington announced his plans to sell the team, the city council
appeared ready to strike down the ballpark deal. (The council must approve land
takings and debt for such public projects by a two-thirds margin.) Once the
sale was announced, even the minimal momentum for the project abruptly ceased.
"If the Red Sox continue to take the stand that they're going to get the deal
done before the sale, they are in outer space," says Councilor Michael Ross. He
adds that new ownership offers a chance for the team to come up with a more
creative plan and look at other locations.
Even if there's nothing to the McCourt-Kelly scenario, what about the Joseph
O'Donnell-Suffolk Downs scenario? O'Donnell, an owner of concessions companies,
has an interest in Suffolk Downs and could put the team on the East
Boston-Revere line in exchange for an ownership stake. Larry Moulter, who
helped orchestrate the construction of the FleetCenter and now works as the
chief marketing officer of Mirror Image Internet, says, "If a McCourt or
O'Donnell owns the land, that's a significant equity contribution to the deal
that the Red Sox were unable to make."
The names of both men -- along with others, such as David Mugar, Steve Karp,
and Staples chief executive Thomas Stemberg -- will be in the running until the
sale of the Red Sox is announced. Any major corporate entity that seeks to buy
the Sox would need a local frontperson to help navigate the usual array of
Boston political personalities. "Any group that comes in is going to have to
have a strong, visible local partner," says Moulter. "That's just how business
gets done here."
The last question, and perhaps the most intriguing of all, is this: now that
Harrington has flipped himself out of the hot seat and flipped Menino back in,
what's the mayor going to do? The full story of how the Red Sox were forced to
make a plan for the Fenway has yet to emerge. With the Yawkey interests out of
the picture -- and their legacy of charitable giving gone as well -- 11 of 13
city councilors are now on record against the plan. The legal problems
surrounding the project, the constitutional issues surrounding eminent domain,
the exorbitant cost of the land takings -- all these obstacles remain as long
as the ballpark must be built in the Fenway.
What Menino must do now is either signal an opening to the team to build
elsewhere or try to find an owner with Grand Canyon-size pockets who can pay
for everything. But even that solution has problems: does a mayor who made his
reputation on what he did for the neighborhoods really want to go down in
history as the executive who forced the Red Sox to move to Somerville?
Stay tuned.
Seth Gitell can be reached at sgitell[a]phx.com.