Published 12:01 am PDT Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Reach Ailene Voisin at (916) 321-1208 or avoisin@sacbee.com.
http://www.sacbee.com/content/sports/story/14305096p-15185810c.html
These arena deals are like oatmeal. Eventually all the issues turn to mush. There are legitimate counterpoints for every argument, reasonable responses to every philosophical question and enough dueling experts to fill Arco Arena for a Kings-Lakers playoff game.
But today I want to chat about Joe and Gavin Maloof -- strictly as owners of a professional sports franchise -- and raise the three billion-dollar questions: What caused the erosion of their golden boy image? To what extent does reputation matter? And can the brothers reconnect with their constituents in time for the November election?
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Maybe not.
"It's a leap of faith," said Dr. Barbara O'Connor, a Sacramento State communications professor. "These arena issues are so complicated that the average person ultimately is going to say, 'Do I trust these people?'
Personally, I don't think it's a bad deal. But I think their (Maloofs) people have done them a disservice. They need to be more hands-on and less dropping out of sight. Their absences have hurt them."
As the city/county leaders and the Maloofs strategize for their upcoming campaign, the focus groups and informal inquiries in fact are confirming what has become increasingly apparent, namely, that a segment of the population is skeptical of the Kings/Monarchs' owners, with the fears both fiscal and emotional. In selective bars and back rooms, the brothers are perceived as carpetbaggers eager for the ballot measure to fail so they can return to their poker games and their Playboy bunnies in Anaheim, San Jose, Las Vegas. Or, in the alternative, the deal passes, the taxpayers get duped, and the guys still get the girls.
Well, folks, here comes the news flash.
Paupers don't own franchises.
The brothers are getting a bum rap.
Take it from an unapologetic liberal who would rather hug trees and donate to Amnesty International than spend a nanosecond -- or a dime -- helping the rich get richer. The issue is about enhancing a quality of life and a community's international reputation, and if that necessitates nurturing two single men who can be goofy at times and overly sensitive at others? Who cares? Would you prefer the underfinanced Jim Thomas?
Besides.
These are genuinely decent people.
In their seven years overseeing the franchise, the Maloofs have established themselves as owners who commit the sums necessary ($65 million in player salaries) to compete against large-market franchises. Who contribute huge chunks to local charities ($1.3 million in 2006) as well as international causes ($250,000 to Dikembe Mutombo's hospital in the Congo). Who employ nearly 1,500 residents for arena events at a cost of approximately $33.6 million annually. Who have demonstrated unwavering loyalty to a women's league (WNBA) that several NBA owners have abandoned.
Who -- in spite of the above -- have somehow managed to squander a once-formidable homecourt advantage.
Indeed, the Maloofs nationally are regarded among the premier owners in pro sports, factors discernible both from anecdotal evidence and hard data, including ESPN the Magazine's annual Fan Satisfaction Rankings. (The Kings and Maloofs have ranked among the top 40 of 121 franchises since the poll's inception.)
"They are seen as really progressive owners," added Paul Swangard, managing director at the Warsaw Sports Marketing Center that conducts the study, "and juxtaposed against the other billionaire owners in the league, they come off very well."
The doubts and the image problem -- the roots of their ultimate November challenge -- trace back to the summer of 2004, when City Councilman Steve Cohn proposed a financial limit on the city's contribution in any future arena negotiation. Infuriated by the last-second motion and secretive back-room maneuverings, Joe and Gavin Maloof stormed out of the chambers and thereafter spent limited time in Sacramento.
Rick Adelman's lingering paranoia furthered their sense of alienation; aware their former coach openly resented their presence at the practice facility, they abandoned their customary daily workouts.
Nonetheless, while their anger regarding both matters was understandable, and much of the sniping in the local media undeserved, the result was an immensely damaging two-year sulk.
"We have been pretty surprised by what we're hearing," Gavin Maloof acknowledged quietly. "That has been a little disheartening, because we're the same people. We haven't changed. We're not going to put on airs. We have done everything we said we were going to do. We built a great team, we give back to the community. We're not going to make a huge windfall on this deal. You don't make that kind of money in pro sports anymore. We just have to explain things, work to get the people's faith back."
Perhaps they should steal a script from Arnold and his favorite political consultant, Maria Shriver. To know the Maloofs is to like them. To see them around town is to sense a commitment. Maybe it's not too late.
Reach Ailene Voisin at (916) 321-1208 or avoisin@sacbee.com.
http://www.sacbee.com/content/sports/story/14305096p-15185810c.html
These arena deals are like oatmeal. Eventually all the issues turn to mush. There are legitimate counterpoints for every argument, reasonable responses to every philosophical question and enough dueling experts to fill Arco Arena for a Kings-Lakers playoff game.
But today I want to chat about Joe and Gavin Maloof -- strictly as owners of a professional sports franchise -- and raise the three billion-dollar questions: What caused the erosion of their golden boy image? To what extent does reputation matter? And can the brothers reconnect with their constituents in time for the November election?
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Maybe not.
"It's a leap of faith," said Dr. Barbara O'Connor, a Sacramento State communications professor. "These arena issues are so complicated that the average person ultimately is going to say, 'Do I trust these people?'
Personally, I don't think it's a bad deal. But I think their (Maloofs) people have done them a disservice. They need to be more hands-on and less dropping out of sight. Their absences have hurt them."
As the city/county leaders and the Maloofs strategize for their upcoming campaign, the focus groups and informal inquiries in fact are confirming what has become increasingly apparent, namely, that a segment of the population is skeptical of the Kings/Monarchs' owners, with the fears both fiscal and emotional. In selective bars and back rooms, the brothers are perceived as carpetbaggers eager for the ballot measure to fail so they can return to their poker games and their Playboy bunnies in Anaheim, San Jose, Las Vegas. Or, in the alternative, the deal passes, the taxpayers get duped, and the guys still get the girls.
Well, folks, here comes the news flash.
Paupers don't own franchises.
The brothers are getting a bum rap.
Take it from an unapologetic liberal who would rather hug trees and donate to Amnesty International than spend a nanosecond -- or a dime -- helping the rich get richer. The issue is about enhancing a quality of life and a community's international reputation, and if that necessitates nurturing two single men who can be goofy at times and overly sensitive at others? Who cares? Would you prefer the underfinanced Jim Thomas?
Besides.
These are genuinely decent people.
In their seven years overseeing the franchise, the Maloofs have established themselves as owners who commit the sums necessary ($65 million in player salaries) to compete against large-market franchises. Who contribute huge chunks to local charities ($1.3 million in 2006) as well as international causes ($250,000 to Dikembe Mutombo's hospital in the Congo). Who employ nearly 1,500 residents for arena events at a cost of approximately $33.6 million annually. Who have demonstrated unwavering loyalty to a women's league (WNBA) that several NBA owners have abandoned.
Who -- in spite of the above -- have somehow managed to squander a once-formidable homecourt advantage.
Indeed, the Maloofs nationally are regarded among the premier owners in pro sports, factors discernible both from anecdotal evidence and hard data, including ESPN the Magazine's annual Fan Satisfaction Rankings. (The Kings and Maloofs have ranked among the top 40 of 121 franchises since the poll's inception.)
"They are seen as really progressive owners," added Paul Swangard, managing director at the Warsaw Sports Marketing Center that conducts the study, "and juxtaposed against the other billionaire owners in the league, they come off very well."
The doubts and the image problem -- the roots of their ultimate November challenge -- trace back to the summer of 2004, when City Councilman Steve Cohn proposed a financial limit on the city's contribution in any future arena negotiation. Infuriated by the last-second motion and secretive back-room maneuverings, Joe and Gavin Maloof stormed out of the chambers and thereafter spent limited time in Sacramento.
Rick Adelman's lingering paranoia furthered their sense of alienation; aware their former coach openly resented their presence at the practice facility, they abandoned their customary daily workouts.
Nonetheless, while their anger regarding both matters was understandable, and much of the sniping in the local media undeserved, the result was an immensely damaging two-year sulk.
"We have been pretty surprised by what we're hearing," Gavin Maloof acknowledged quietly. "That has been a little disheartening, because we're the same people. We haven't changed. We're not going to put on airs. We have done everything we said we were going to do. We built a great team, we give back to the community. We're not going to make a huge windfall on this deal. You don't make that kind of money in pro sports anymore. We just have to explain things, work to get the people's faith back."
Perhaps they should steal a script from Arnold and his favorite political consultant, Maria Shriver. To know the Maloofs is to like them. To see them around town is to sense a commitment. Maybe it's not too late.
