It's time to stop the stadium money train

Charles Rex Arbogast/AP

Big-time sports are one of the most valuable commodities in the world, up there with oil, real estate and rhodium.

Why? Because they are highly prized, rare, desired. They are finite, perfect for observing, broadcasting, analyzing, gambling on and — critically — watching in real time. This guarantees audiences. And audiences guarantee money. And money . . . well, enough said.

The NFL, NBA, NHL and MLB are boomtown growth industries because of audiences.

In 2022, the NFL took in an estimated $18.6 billion. The Cowboys, the team that nearly made owner Jerry Jones weep with its playoff ineptitude, led the league in sponsorship deals in 2023. The league total was $2.35 billion, up 15% from the year before, according to SponsorUnited, a global sports and entertainment data-collection company.

The Cowboys always seem to be in front, but the interesting thing about the NFL sponsorship revenue stream is that last season, according to SponsorUnited, ‘‘the largest year-over-year percentage growth came from the Cincinnati Bengals, Cleveland Browns and Denver Broncos.’’

Those are three pretty average teams, folks. The point is, money flies to big monopolistic sports leagues, regardless of their member teams’ successes or failures.

Consider that the 10-team Indian Premier League generated almost $1.1 billion in revenue in 2023. And that’s for cricket.

So here we are in Chicago, and once again our major pro sports teams are grubbing at the trough.

As Sun-Times reporters Tim Novak and Robert Herguth wrote Sunday, White Sox chairman Jerry Reinsdorf not only is seeking $1 billion in taxpayer money for a new baseball park, but a group he’s connected with also is buying up parking lots all around the United Center on the Near West Side.

The United Center is home to the Reinsdorf-controlled Bulls and the Wirtz family-owned Blackhawks. Reinsdorf and the Wirtzes co-own the building, and the purchasing of parking lots nearby only can mean arena expansion and development of the area are in the works.

‘‘It would be premature to discuss specifics at this time,’’ a spokesman for the parking-lot venture told Novak and Herguth.

You’ve gotta salute the corpo-speak, but, if you have a brain, you know what’s up. Never forget that Reinsdorf made his fortune in real estate and the Wirtzes in alcohol distribution.

The Bears, of course, are also restless in their lair, searching about for a windfall area to build a new stadium because Soldier Field is something of a jury-rigged atrocity and has been since the giant toilet-seat ‘‘renovation’’ took place in 2003.

All these teams want money from us, as they always do. Help build our stadiums, give us tax breaks, roll out bonds, treat us with respect — or else. And with Reinsdorf, the ‘‘or else’’ means ‘‘I’ll leave.’’

He has said it before. And he means it. If you’re old enough, you’ll remember 1988, when the Sox’ bags were packed for St. Petersburg, Florida, until Reinsdorf was appeased by the state at the last minute.

These sports businesses are called ‘‘Chicago’’ teams, so we feel they belong to us, are part of our culture, our birthright. We buy season tickets, build rooms in their honor, wear their uniforms, get their logos tattooed on our bodies.

But they don’t belong to us.

We can’t control their wins, losses, trades, location, anything.

We are pawns on a chessboard they control.

There are 32 teams in the NFL and NHL and 30 in MLB and the NBA. No new teams have been added to the NFL since the Texans 22 years ago. And that was bogus because the Oilers had moved from Houston to Nashville, Tennessee, in 1992.

Likewise, there has been nothing new in baseball in a quarter-century (Rays and Diamondbacks in 1998). This is the definition of a cartel, each of these leagues. So good for them. They won the lucky-dude pool.

But when four of our city’s five major pro teams are on the make, expanding or begging for new stadiums, we need to beware. Maybe we can’t change much, but we can be informed and try not to get extorted.

What about the Cubs? Good question. The Ricketts-owned franchise is sated — briefly — with its Six Flags Over Wrigleyville expansion that includes a hotel, bars, rooftop seats and the like.

The Cubs were worth about $900 million when the Rickettses bought the team in 2009; they’re worth $5 billion now.

But they’ll be back at the trough someday, hat in hand. Count on it.

And good luck to us then, as always.