THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1996, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Thursday, January 18, 1996 TAG: 9601180273
SECTION: SPORTS PAGE: C1 EDITION: FINAL
TYPE: Column
SOURCE: Tom Robinson
LENGTH: Medium: 68 lines
Throughout our Canadian Football League adventure, there lived the thought that this could be a catalyst, the spark of a baby step in the region's effort to team up on a sports-minded venture.
As the wake apparently began Wednesday for the Pirates, that notion was confirmed. Just not the way club owners Bernie and Lonie Glieberman had hoped.
When Mayors Paul Fraim and Meyera Oberndorf, acting for the City Councils in Norfolk and Virginia Beach, symbolically locked arms to turn the Pirates from our banks, it was a cooperative act rarely seen around here.
So if they're really goners, and before the door hits them in the behind, give the Pirates that - they've helped bring our cities together. So much so that Norfolk and Virginia Beach officials swear they're serious this time, honest, about a joint effort to build a downtown-Norfolk arena and pursue a big-league hockey or basketball franchise.
Is it sheer hindsight to say this thing was doomed from the jump? I don't think so. Even in early November - despite the hopeful musings of football fans or those just begging for something remotely major league - it really didn't smell right. At least not to the people who could make or break it.
Say what you will about the supposedly thrilling CFL product, the odds were huge that our conservative, safety-first leaders would welcome stark strangers to their breast. When unflattering reports of those strangers' financial dealings steadily surfaced, the skepticism factor skyrocketed.
Of course, there was this $400,000 bone of contention that stuck in everybody's gullet. It was the price of a suitable renovation of Foreman Field on the Old Dominion University campus, without which the Pirates could not play.
With ODU athletic director Jim Jarrett taking his cue largely from the cities' negative stance during lease negotiations, it was the hammer over the whole deal.
It fell Tuesday, but it could have happened much sooner. And in fairness to the Gliebermans, who could be forced to fold their team at this late date, it should have fallen weeks ago.
From day one there was little political inclination to receive the Pirates. They reportedly won friends in the business community, but the stadium renovation question put the issue in the hands of the city governments.
If the Pirates were going to be spurned, it should have been done swiftly and openly. Instead, the Gliebermans got foot-dragging and anonymous innuendo as the health of their franchise weakened daily.
Then, when the inevitable decision was reached, Pirates executives had to hear it from a reporter. What was that about? The Gliebermans deserved better than to be blown off without a phone call.
Still, now that it seems done, I'm not convinced there will be much public moping if CFL games won't be played in Hampton Roads this summer. Granted, there was no urgency to buy season tickets, but a couple thousand $50 commitments aren't resounding endorsement.
For three months, the CFL has been an intriguing diversion that's captured a healthy curiosity in many corners of Hampton Roads. It got people talking. It brought Fraim and Oberndorf together.
Ultimately, it kick-started the debate over whether Hampton Roads, with its large but transient population of 1.6 million, small-scale corporate community and below-average household income levels, can lure and support major-league hockey or basketball, which carry outrageous financial nuts.
It's very possible that we can't. But because of the Pirates' impetus, we'll probably find out sooner than later. by CNB