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A Mariners move looks to be 50-50

 
Published Oct. 26, 1991|Updated Oct. 14, 2005

Sitting in the World Series ballparks, hearing Georgians chant and Minnesotans roar, absorbing baseball at its most glamorous, exhilarating plateau, only enriches the craving to have the major-league game come to Tampa Bay. "If the Mariners don't say goodbye to Seattle and hello to Tampa Bay, they're crazy," said my sleepy-eyed seatmate on an Atlanta-Minneapolis flight, ESPN baseball analyst Peter Gammons.

Jerome Holtzman, sagacious baseball columnist of the Chicago Tribune, slapped me on the back the night before and suggested, "I'm already on the record as saying the Mariners will play in St. Petersburg next season, and I'm hearing nothing to make me think I'm wrong."

So what is the story?

Pete and Jerry could be right.

During the past 72 hours, as the Atlanta Braves gave the Minnesota Twins a Dixie whipping, I have talked extensively with Mariners owner Jeff Smulyan, general manager Woody Woodward, and executives of five other AL teams.

Here's what I know Smulyan hasn't made up his mind. He's in a business bind but, with admirable personal class and obvious lifetime affection for baseball as a sport, the 42-year-old Indianan is giving Seattle every chance to show sufficient corporate/advertising muscle to keep its team.

"No city should ever lose a ballclub," Smulyan said at his Atlanta hotel, "but if any place has itself in a position to possibly do so, it's Seattle."

Within two weeks, baseball commissioner Fay Vincent's office expects to know whether (a) Smulyan plans to definitely leave the Mariners in Seattle or (b) if he will openly check into relocation possibilities.

Vincent is against a move but owners of 13 other AL clubs are said to favor a shift to St. Petersburg _ if Smulyan decides to make the request.

Smulyan, even now, has access to in-depth studies on Tampa Bay as a potential major-league baseball market. He knows everything the White Sox knew in 1989 when owner Jerry Reinsdorf decided to move his franchise to the Florida Suncoast Dome if Chicago failed to erect a new Comiskey Park.

Smulyan is sold on Tampa Bay. He hasn't been to the 42,000-seat dome, but his sources have. Florida's west coast is not the quandary. If the Mariners exit Seattle, they're ours. Orlando, Washington, Buffalo, Indianapolis, and Phoenix are not in the picture, nor is any other baseball-less city.

My gut feeling is Smulyan, an easy-to-like Indianapolis radio entrepreneur, doesn't want anybody thinking he has stiffed Seattle. His hometown is Indianapolis, where pro football's all-time carpetbagger, Bob Irsay, moved the Colts after slithering out of Baltimore in the dead of night.

Smulyan is no Irsay. Not even close. He cares about Seattle because of a commitment made three years ago. In tough economic times when he can least afford it, Smulyan has lost more than $20-million on the Mariners.

Bank loans to Smulyan are being called in. He can stretch no further without major monetary infusions. That can come from one of three sources:

Seattle business sources can guarantee the Mariners ample new income for 1992 and beyond, convincing Smulyan his franchise should stay. "There's a committee working hard at it," Smulyan said, "and I hope they make it. Washington's governor on Thursday asked a study on the financial impact of the Mariners in the state. We'll see what happens. But, yes, it's got to be real soon."

If the foregoing measure fails, Smul-yan will put the Mariners up for sale to Seattle sources. "I would have a right to ask what I've got in the franchise," he said. "That comes to more than $100-million." A recent independent study of the franchise's worth, if it remains in the Seattle Kingdome, came up with a figure of $69-million. "I can't believe anybody would be foolish enough to pay $100-million to keep the team there," Reinsdorf said.

This is the one Tampa Bay wishes to hear. If Smulyan decides it's not going to work in Seattle, he will seek relocation to Tampa Bay that includes sale of up to 49 percent of franchise stock to mid-Florida investors. "We have potential investors who're most interested," said Rick Dodge, the St. Petersburg assistant city manager who has led the pursuit.

So what are Tampa Bay's chances? Smulyan won't say, but reading between his semi-evasive lines, I'd guess he's thinking 50-50. We should have vital information by mid-November, if not earlier. Vincent will demand to know something definite, at least regarding the 1992 season.

As the Mariners' owner debates with himself, other rumors are surfacing.

"My scenario is that Smulyan, along with owners of the troubled Montreal Expos," Holtzman whispered to me, "will be in separate helicopters, each trying to land at the Suncoast Dome."

My reply was, "No problem, Jer, because Tampa Bay always did want to be a two-team city." Seriously, there are other big-league forks threatening to stir the stew. Holtzman and Gammons see Montreal as a volatile situation, a marvelous city whose baseball love has long been doubted.

"It's a hockey town first, and baseball is second banana at best," Holtzman said. "Also, the San Francisco Giants remain a highly unsettled situation. If (owner) Bob Lurie doesn't get a new stadium deal soon, he'll be fed up and the Giants will be gone."

All I really want is one team that's eager to sink Tampa Bay roots and play baseball forever in a superior facility that sits ready alongside I-275.

"I can't see you going without a team for too much longer," Smulyan said, "wherever it might come from."

Gammons told me the same, and Holtzman, plus a score of other baseball insiders at the World Series.

Fine. But when?

November will do.