The Tampa Bay Rays Are A Sports Underdog Story That’s Hard To Root For.
It’s become a terminal cliche that American sports fans love an underdog story, the unlikely hero that overcomes the odds to take home the championship against a seemingly unstoppable opponent, David slaying Goliath. Think Eli Manning’s New York Giants defeating the juggernaut New England Patriots in the Super Bowl- twice. Butler’s back to back runs to the Final Four in a starmaking performance from young head coach Brad Stevens. The list goes on. As this year’s Major League Baseball playoffs emerge, there is a developing underdog story that seems tailor made to be an all time classic. The Tampa Bay Rays, who in the regular season won 96 games despite having the lowest payroll in baseball, trailed the Houston Astros (owners of baseball’s best record) by two games to nothing in the American League Division Series, yet have rallied to force a decisive Game 5, which will be played tomorrow. Going by the classic underdog narrative, the default for any sports fan not from Southeast Texas should be pulling for Tampa. If that is the case, why does the thought of that leave a bad taste in this sports fan’s mouth?
When sports fans and pundits talk about the success story of this year’s Rays team, the first thing that comes up is their payroll- namely, how low it is. The Rays’ payroll of roughly $64 million for 2019 is the lowest of any of MLB’s 30 teams, and by far the lowest of any playoff team- the next lowest is the Oakland A’s, famous for their “Moneyball” creative frugality, but their payroll checks in almost $30 million higher. But is this success on a low budget really something to be celebrated?
On paper, Tampa shouldn’t be such a poor franchise- the Tampa-St. Petersburg metro area is the 11th largest television market in the U.S. according to Nielsen, and is an increasingly attractive destination for affluent millenials. And yet, Tampa’s attendance is shockingly poor for a winning team- second last in the league, less than the 108-loss Baltimore Orioles. The oft-cited reason for this poor attendance is their ballpark, Tropicana Field. Built in the 1980s in the hopes of attracting an existing Major League team (the White Sox and Giants flirted with Tampa before staying put), it is a derelict relic frequently ranked as the worst park in the majors. Beyond the park itself, it’s location in St. Petersburg makes it a difficult commute for residents of the Tampa side of the bay, or the Orlando/I-4 corridor who might otherwise make it up to games.
Another factor for attendance is the fact that, anytime that the Rays have a homegrown star player, someone that could attract fans for years and generations, that player is seemingly never around for the long haul. Ben Zobrist, David Price, Evan Longoria, and more sit on the list of All-Star caliber players who Tampa drafted, developed and subsequently let go. Longoria seemed to be the lone exception, as the Rays inked him to a long-term extension in 2012. But it was not to be, as the Rays dealt him to the San Francisco Giants in 2018 for a prospect package that has yet to develop into any productive big leaguers. The trade sparked a backlash from fans on social media against the front office and owner Stuart Sternberg (more on him later). Although the third baseman is no longer the perennial All star he once was, in 2019 he still would have been one of the more productive players in the Rays lineup according to Wins Above Replacement, a sabermetic measurement of player value on the field calculated by the website Fangraphs.
Even so, the Rays should more than be able to field an at least somewhat higher payroll. TV ratings for games are high, and in 2018 they signed a lucrative broadcasting contract with Fox Sports Sun. And yet, the payroll numbers speak for themselves, leading to a strong suspicion that ownership is crying crocodile tears about the stadium while pocketing a massive surplus of profit. Fans aren’t the only ones who are suspicious- in 2018, as the new TV contract was being finalized, the MLBPA, the players’ union, filed a grievance against the Rays (along with three other clubs) over ownership’s lack of spending.
Now, back to that ownership. When Sternberg, a New York investment banker (and, as some Rays fans will bitterly point out, a lifeling Mets season ticket holder even after buying the Rays), bought the team in 2005, he initially earned some goodwill from fans by bringing in a savvy, analytically inclined front office in the mold of Billy Beane’s A’s, and the team would make the postseason and the World Series for the first time in 2008. But the aforementioned issues, and also the belief that Sternberg’s cries of poverty and public criticism of the Tampa fan base were meant to bully local government into (at least partially) footing the bill for a new stadium. In 2019, the Rays began making overtures to Montreal about an unusual arrangement where the Rays would play half their games there, widely believed to be a warning shot about moving the team should government not play ball. To punctuate this statement, Sternberg invited Stephen Bronfman, the head of a group of investors determined to bring baseball back to Montreal, to watch the Rays’ wild card game victory with him. Sternberg comes off particularly poorly in contrast to another Tampa sports owner- Jeff Vinik of the NHL’s Lightning. Vinik’s combination of community outreach and investment in the on-ice product has turned his team into a perennial Stanley Cup contender and, improbably, turned a fanbase in sunny Florida into one of hockey’s best.
So, here is the dilemma. For the players on the Rays, they are, in spite of everything, great underdogs fighting against the odds. Furthermore, they seem like a likeable group- my favorites are left-handed pitcher Blake Snell, whose public appearances betray a quirky, fun personality in a sports landscape where it is so easy to be bland, and former San Francisco Giant Matt Duffy. But their efforts will ultimately go towards lining the pockets of a man who will only keep them on his team as long as their salary is low, and one whose record shows a callous lack of respect for the people who make the long drive out to his stadium or tune in to watch his team on TV. Ownership of a sports franchise is a business, and every owner, including Jeff Vinik, is in it for profit. But Rays ownership seems to be a particulary egregious case of extracting a particularly nasty form of profit out of his customer base, and he might move the team away anyway. That’s why, although the players on the team should no doubt celebrate and be celebrated should they win the World Series, any Rays win will have a black cloud hanging over it that taints what would otherwise be a classic Cinderella story.
