Stadium For Rent: 12. The Pitch

STADIUM FOR RENT:
Tampa Bay's Quest for Major League Baseball
By BOB ANDELMAN

12. The Pitch

"Bill White came up to me and said it was the best
presentation he had ever seen in terms of professionally
delivering the right information in the right way.
That makes you feel good but
I would trade all that for a sloppy W."
-- Rick Dodge, St. Petersburg's Baseball Point Man

To say that St. Petersburg's city officials, sportswriters and baseball fans did not have a favorite among the three contenders representing it in the expansion sweepstakes would be a lie.

The city administration's tussles with Stephen Porter and Joel Schur over leases for the St. Petersburg Cardinals were not fun and hardly endeared the owners to St. Petersburg. Tom Hammons and Abe Gosman were unknown and considered lightweight competition. Frank Morsani, Mark Bostick and Lance Ringhaver, on the other hand, were local boys who made their bones in the neighborhood. They supported the baseball effort in Tampa Bay before Porter and Schur knew the difference between Tampa and Tampa Bay.

"In terms of spending time and who you knew best, it had to be Morsani and Bostick," Florida Suncoast Dome administrative manager Anita Treiser says. "They had first-hand knowledge of what had transpired. They spent more time at the Dome, they were more aware of the facility. We knew Frank and Mark as friends. We didn't have the same interaction with the other groups."

To their credit, the city employees dealing with the potential ownership groups and the stadium reversed field over the summer from functioning as an appendage of Frank Morsani to dealing equally with all three groups.

"They got a couple of phone calls," Steve Porter says, "between the time of our announcement and the fall presentations in New York. We heard from someone in baseball that the city got some negative information on us. I checked it out with a friend in baseball. That individual called Rick Dodge and said, 'If you want Tampa Bay to be considered, get your nose out of our business. We will decide who the ownership group will be. You will not decide that. Don't lock yourself in with a group because if you lock yourself in with the wrong group and we conclude that you are hostile to the group we favor -- if, in fact, we favor a group -- the city may be out altogether.' I was told that that message was delivered. Sometime thereafter, we started being treated with a certain amount of respect."
* * *

The Hammons group made a call to the Schur group to explore mutual interests. Schur and Porter rebuffed Hammons and said they were not interested "at this time."

"In a way, we were like three pit bulls all trying to occupy the same yard. None of us had the resources to occupy the yard once we had it," Hammons group member Allen Keesler says. "You were dealing with men with huge amounts of money and huge egos. There were few compromises made."
* * *

The National League expansion committee invited the City of St. Petersburg, the Morsani, Schur/Porter and Hammons groups (in that order) to make formal presentations of their baseball bids at the Citicorp building in downtown Manhattan on September 28, 1990. Phoenix and America's Team were also invited on that date. Groups from competing cities were heard the preceding week.

The miscellany of preparing St. Petersburg's presentation team -- a combination of business and political leaders from St. Petersburg and Tampa -- fell to Anita Treiser. She tracked down resumes and photos of the four men on the National League expansion committee so they could be identified on sight. She organized rehearsals of the city's presentation to iron out the rough spots and make the individual business and political leaders work as a team. (To some she offered advice on what to wear.) She coordinated flight arrangements for each speaker, with expenses paid by interest accruing into the Join The Team season-ticket reservation fund.
* * *

On her arrival in the city, Treiser called National League representative Phyllis Collins and asked if the St. Petersburg group could see the conference room ahead of time and use it to rehearse. She left nothing to chance.

In New York, the city crew and speakers met Tampa Bay's three prospective ownership groups to review what the city would tell baseball.

They gathered in a single room for the first time, powerful movers and shakers briefly accepting direction from low-paid city employees, playing by Roberts' Rules of Order before attempting to beat each other out to be No. 1 for a St. Petersburg-based expansion baseball franchise.

Morsani, Ringhaver and Bostick were there. So were Porter, Kohl and Rex Farrior. And Hammons and his daughter, Nicole, Abe Gosman's two sons, Andrew and Michael (but not Gosman), and Don Drysdale represented the third group. St. Petersburg would present market and demographic detail first, allowing the three groups to subsequently concentrate on the particulars of their individual bids.

"When they came in the room, each of the three groups stood in a separate area," Treiser says. "Only Rick Dodge and I knew all of them. We stood in the front, introducing them to each other. The feeling in the room was one of tension. We did not show any favoritism. I don't think any one ownership group wanted to give a hint of what they were going to do so their input on our presentation was minimal."

One of the ownership groups did recommend that the city explain, face-to-face with Major League Baseball for the first time, why it built the Dome.

Just before the meeting ended, a nervous Rick Dodge asked a question.

"Each group is prepared to be selected independently to represent the area," he said. "But if this committee asks if the groups are willing to merge, what will you say?"

"I am not going to say," Sidney Kohl said. "And don't you say that."

To which Porter said to Kohl: "I am not totally in agreement with that." And then to Dodge: "Just say we're all ready to go forward."

Morsani and Hammons indicated they were willing to do whatever it took.

Afterward, Morsani invited the committee representing St. Petersburg to dine with him that night, but most of the team declined the car dealer's offer, reluctant to show favoritism. Those with the city who did dine with Morsani and baseball consultant Peter Bavasi -- including St. Petersburg Mayor Bob Ulrich, suffering from the flu and barely able to talk -- were again asked to throw the city's formal support behind his group.

"We told Ulrich we thought St. Petersburg owed it to Frank as the local guy," Ringhaver says. "We thought it would make the effort seem more unified. The mayor gave us the indication they would support us as their preferred group."

Speeches were written and rewritten through the night and early morning hours. Dodge slept less than three hours, all of it restless. He woke in a cold sweat, anxious to run through his patter one more time.

When St. Petersburg's presentation team gathered in the morning, Dodge gave the pep talk. He told his group about that morning in Chicago when he was preparing to negotiate with White Sox co-owner Jerry Reinsdorf. Jim Healey had looked Dodge in the eye and said, "Don't screw it up."

"Jim is not here with us today," Dodge told his team, "but . . . Let's not screw it up."

At 9 a.m. the city was given a scant 30 minutes to make its $100-million pitch.

Mayor Ulrich introduced the other members of Tampa Bay's panel -- WTVT-Channel 13 president Clarence McKee, Tampa Sports Authority chairman Johnny Adcock and Pinellas Sports Authority chairman R.W. (Lee) Greene III -- carefully stressing the regional unity represented. Then he turned the presentation over to Dodge.

There were no mistakes and only one unexpected question.

"Rick," Fred Wilpon said, "if we had to make that an open-air stadium, could you do that?"

"If that's what you want," Dodge answered, "we'll figure a way to do it."

Fifteen minutes later, Dodge entered the ballroom at Loews Astor Plaza and flashed the thumbs-up signal to waiting reporters.

"We feel we had an excellent experience," Dodge said. "They had positive comments."

"You would have been proud of your presentation team," Ulrich said. "They knew what they came to say and it was listened to attentively. We've given it a very good shot."

Not all the reporters in the room were the hometown sort. Some of their questions were tougher than the usual softballs:

"Why does baseball need another cookie-cutter domed stadium with a carpet?"

"The other Florida cities say they wouldn't have a problem with rain. Why is St. Petersburg different?"

"How many rain-outs would you anticipate if you had an open-air stadium?"

One reporter asked if Tampa Bay's presentation met with any skepticism. "Only from the media," Dodge said, smiling.

Marc Topkin of the St. Petersburg Times asked Rick Dodge the question on everyone's mind.

"Rick, when you came in you looked jubilant. Can you tell us what made you jubilant?"

"No."

"Did they [the expansion committee] say something to you to make you feel that way?"

"Yes." Dodge grinned from ear-to-ear.

Two years later, Dodge finally revealed why he was so happy that morning.

"One of the owners in the room -- who I am not going to identify," he says, "shook my hand and said, 'You're going to get a franchise.' "
* * *

The public didn't get a whiff of Frank Morsani's financial problems until three days before he was due before the expansion committee in New York.

Tampa-based Southern Exchange Bank sued the auto dealer for defaulting on a $500,000 loan.

Needless to say, the timing was lousy. For Morsani, that is. For his competition, the timing was perfect.

Money was not Frank Morsani's only concern.

Someone threatened Morsani with bodily harm as a result of an unrelated business deal and he was now often accompanied by a bodyguard.

"He said some guy he won a lawsuit against had threatened his life," Ringhaver says. "He obviously had a lot of pressure on him."

* * *

When their turn came, the expansion committee didn't have too many questions to ask of the Morsani group following their presentation of two videotapes. The first was a Dome montage, from construction to completion, plus concert footage. The second was a greatest hits tape from Morsani's long "baseball career." Highlights included the recording of the "Join The Team" theme song and clips from Morsani's many local TV appearances promoting season-ticket reservations and baseball in general. Slides showed Morsani shaking hands with Ronald Reagan and George Bush. At one point the voiceover underscored the point: "No group in the Tampa Bay area has given more to the community."

Considering Morsani's personal warmth and congeniality, it seemed odd that he relied so heavily on videotapes in a face-to-face meeting.

Morsani chatted up the Florida Suncoast Dome; Ringhaver spoke of philosophy; Bostick explained the finances. The committee members appeared comfortable and familiar with Morsani and posed only polite inquiries to him and his new partners, whom they were meeting for the first time.

"The owners didn't have too many questions about our financials," Ringhaver says. "They asked what Frank's position was, how much he was putting in. Frank said he was getting 10 percent and I said that was sweat equity for work he put in early on. We kept thinking they might check our financial background a little more. But they never asked us any questions about our financing of the team."

In making his presentation, Morsani fudged a little by including net worth figures from Mack and other TBBG members because they were entitled to a small percentage of the group. It would have been interesting to read Wilpon's mind. Was he wondering why his neighbor, Bill Mack, was not present, sitting between Morsani and these other two? Or did he already know why? (Wilpon declined to be interviewed.)

Then came a glitch. Bill White asked if Morsani's group would be interested in getting together with one of the other groups.

"We said if they wanted, we'd talk," Ringhaver says. "But we'd already talked to Sarasota [Hammons] and they didn't have anything to offer. And we talked to Kohl but couldn't come to any agreement. We felt we were in the leadership position and that we didn't have to share control. We felt after the meeting we were No. 1. We thought we had gotten the nod."

Morsani and his partners thought the team was gift-wrapped and on its way to Tampa Bay.
* * *

The Morsani group emerged from its presentation after an hour. Morsani was exuberant, cheery and smiling as he met the press, but his partners, Bostick and Ringhaver, looked uneasy.

Before taking questions, Morsani played his videotapes for the press.

Times reporter Marc Topkin asked Morsani what kind of reception the committee gave him.

"We didn't have any surprises," Morsani said. "It's like looking for a job. If you're looking for a job, you've got to sell yourself. By golly, we planned on doing that and that's what we attempted to do today."

Ringhaver and Bostick said little until specifically asked to comment on the meeting.

"They certainly seemed to know Frank," Ringhaver said. "He was not a question mark. But Mark and I were pretty nervous. They did not give us any indication that we were in any position vis-a-vis the other groups. Higher or lower? It's difficult to say."

A reporter asked Morsani to enumerate the differences between himself and his competitors.

"They said [to Tampa and St. Petersburg], 'Get together.' We did that. We owned 42 percent of the Twins. They asked us to give it up. We did that," Morsani said. "We all live [in the Tampa Bay area]. We have total local ownership. Maybe I'm prejudiced but I don't think these Johnny-Come-Latelies have anything on us. Anybody can get Smith/Barney to write them a check."

Morsani announced that if his group were chosen, proposed ticket prices to see his "Florida Panthers" would be $5-$12. He called the team "Florida" Panthers rather than "Tampa Bay" to take advantage of being the state's first baseball team. He was cocky enough to believe that not only would he be awarded a team but that it would be Florida's only team.

"I think we are the competition," Morsani said. "The Tampa Bay area. We feel we are the competition in the sense that we offered the best combination of market, facility, governmental and corporate support and ownership groups to be presented to the National League for consideration."

The car dealer assumed one of the two franchises was spoken for; the other contenders were fighting over the second new team. He had his.

Someone asked whether the committee inquired about Morsani's loan trouble.

"That did not come up," he said. "The problem is being resolved. I would hope in the next few days there will be a resolution to that problem."

Meanwhile, in Tampa, another financial institution, The Enterprise National Bank of Tampa, filed sued against Morsani for defaulting on a second loan -- this one for $600,000.
* * *

By the time the Schur group completed its meeting with the expansion committee, a pattern had emerged: Potential owners could lose points in New York but they couldn't make them. The four men running the NL's dog-and-pony show made polite conversation, asked the right questions and nodded politely at the answers.

Steve Porter went before the committee believing their minds were already made up. He was probably right.

There was one unplanned moment following the Schur group's presentation.

"[Houston Astros owner] John McMullen tried to justify the $95-million price," Porter says. "He decided to say what it was that got the price where it was. Nobody asked him. We weren't going to sit there and talk about the price. That was their price. They hadn't yet announced the terms -- if there were any terms. You signed up and you expected to pay the price and they didn't say whether it was all cash, whether it was part cash. We took the position among ourselves that it was $95-million cash.

"Well," Porter recalls, "McMullen said, 'We figure that it costs us X-million a year to operate our minor league operations and that out of that every year we get two players. If you amortize the minor league operations every year against two players, that's the cost per player. In our draft we give you X number of players and therefore that comes out to $95-million . . . '

"I thought, 'What a bargain this is. I don't want anything for nothing, you know. $150-million? Whatever you say.' "
* * *

When the second ownership group's meeting ended, Steve Porter entered the press room, ebullient.

"We thought our presentation went very well," he said. "We have the feeling that the panel was very impressed with the Tampa Bay area, understood its significance. We feel very good about the success of Tampa Bay ultimately getting one of the franchises."

Porter explained that he and his cousin Joel Schur purchased the St. Petersburg Cardinals minor league team to establish ownership of the territory and to develop an understanding of baseball operations. So, he added, "We're the local baseball people in town."

A reporter asked what would become of the minor league team if Porter brought a major league franchise to St. Petersburg. "I don't think [the Cards] would draw too well if a major league team was in the Dome," he said. "We'd have to relocate. It's going to change all kinds of spring training and minor league operations."

Did the committee ask about merging with Morsani's group?

"No," said Porter.

Would a merger be considered if the expansion committee urged it?

"We said we'd be happy to talk to the other participants. The marketplace has to rule. There are three groups. They have their own organizations, financials and balance," Porter said.

Porter -- insisting his lack of Tampa Bay residence could not be construed as a weakness -- said, "I consider it somewhat presumptuous of me to go out and buy a house, retire from my law practice and watch the Florida Panthers."

Near the end of their press conference, Times reporter Topkin asked Schur -- who had been silent -- his perspective of the meeting.

"So you're familiar with Cousin Stephen and myself," Schur said, "my role has been to organize and arrange and get our group set. That's what I've devoted my energies to. Stephen has accepted the draft, which was prearranged, that he will be the general partner."

("Joel got himself involved in a document storage business in New Jersey," Porter says. "And the Kohls never intended to be the leaders of the group, so I took over. As a matter of fact, when we filed our application we filed with me as the managing general partner. We never had to amend anything. As far as baseball was concerned, they never saw anything that said Mr. Schur was the managing general partner.")

And so Schur stepped back and Porter forward. The Schur group was now the Porter group.
* * *

Tom Hammons & Co. were the last to be heard.

"Our fate," Don Drysdale boomed as he entered the press room, "is in baseball's hands." The sportswriters swarmed around Drysdale, almost ignoring Hammons. The charm of a Hall of a Famer easily overwhelmed any interest in an unknown expansion contender.

Hammons announced three more businessmen had joined his group: Florida Power president Allen Keesler; St. Petersburg developer and former USFL Jacksonville Bulls owner Fred Bullard; and Orlando developer Lee Chira. He said his group was proud of its local roots.

"We emphasized that we have an all-Florida group and we have three owners who live directly in the Tampa Bay area," he said. "We offer a unique blend of finance and baseball talent. We want baseball in Tampa Bay. We will cooperate with the National League, the City of St. Petersburg and do anything possible to get that [team]."

Abe Gosman, principal investor and chairman of the group, was accompanied onstage by his sons Andrew and Michael. They put an odd spin on the group's pitch by connecting their effort to be awarded a team with a well-intended, if convoluted, anti-drug and anti-alcohol campaign.

"Mr. Gosman told the press that he'd be great for baseball because he could put together a good anti-drug program," Steve Porter recalls. "It seemed to me that was not a subject that baseball wanted to hear. It might be a very important subject, and I don't minimize it, but it was not the subject that was on everybody's mind insofar as expansion baseball was concerned. I think he left an impression, quite frankly, that he was buying a toy for his sons."
* * *

A hasty meeting was arranged at the office of Sidney Kohl's New York attorney immediately following the morning presentations. The goal was to see if there was any common ground upon which to blend the two groups.

The meeting lasted an hour. Kohl, Porter, Schur, Ringhaver, Morsani and Bostick were present.

"Mr. Kohl did all the talking," Ringhaver says. "They felt they were going to be awarded a team; we had some pluses on our side so they would consider letting us in on it. He made it clear he'd control it. Kohl told us that they were going to put enough money in so they wouldn't have the problems some teams have."

Percentages were set in his group, Kohl said. The original members didn't know if they wanted to take a lesser role. He wasn't opposed to a merger -- but on his terms only.

Kohl tried to bully Morsani into giving up his pursuit.

Morsani, who referred to Sidney Kohl as "Daddy Warbucks-Kohl," said his group had the locals in it and there was no way he could stand behind out-of-towners. "We felt that was non-negotiable," Morsani says, "not from our own point of view, but what we had been told by baseball. Kohl said, come in as limited partners or partners but Steve Porter is going to run it and you will disappear.

"I am not sure I could ever work with him," Morsani says. "He kind of talked down to us."

The way Kohl took charge of the meeting, Ringhaver and Bostick wondered whose group it really was. Porter took the public reins from Schur, but did Kohl call the shots?

"I suppose that's not a terribly unfair characterization," Porter says. "That was probably part of the reason there was this tremendous misunderstanding about the group. Sidney acted like it was his group internally with us. Sidney has a way because of his business experience where he comes into a meeting and he kind of takes over. Sidney has a way of making it look like he is dictating terms -- and he can."

Kohl's breast-beating didn't move the Morsani partnership.

"We'd be giving up majority ownership by joining that group and giving up local [control], which baseball didn't want," Ringhaver says.

Ringhaver was impressed with Kohl, however, whom he calls a "solid businessman, somebody I wouldn't mind being a partner with. No-nonsense, straight-forward, honest. Not a braggart -- the opposite of a Bill Mack. He made no bones about it; he felt his group was it. But that's what kept us from ever getting together."

"They were supposed to get back to us and make a proposal," Porter says. "We never heard from them."

"They were being told that they were going to get it," Bostick says. "And we were being told that we would get it."

END CHAPTER 12

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