A House Divided...

In 1990, a decades-old dream was finally realized. It started with a visionary named Albert Lang, who, way back in 1914, decided he wanted something to help bolster the tourism and appeal of the bayside hamlet of which he was the visionary mayor. Then, sixty years later, the leaders of the now-burgeoning city realized St. Petersburg's best days were behind them: crime was rampant in the southern and downtown parts of the city, and the northern reaches were relegated to nothing more than over-glorified retirement communities. The tax base was way down for even the most basic of emergency services, thereby straining the coffers to the point of breaking. "White Flight" was just as prevalent here as it was in the Rust Belt. Something needed to be done, and they had an epiphany: they needed to use the one thing that still brought the people back every spring and make it a more permanent fixture, bringing people here to spend their money in the dead of summer so they can realize it's not a bad place to live and bring their money with them full-time.

Thus, the Florida Suncoast Dome was born. Of course, like Rome, it wasn't built in a day - or a decade for that matter. But eventually, after much fighting regionally between St. Petersburg and its bigger sister across the bay, Tampa, and in-fighting within St. Pete's city limits itself, a site - and a design - was finally chosen. Fast forward back to 1990, and the builders, city leaders, and design critics all call the lopsided dome with concentric, self-supporting rings holding its roof aloft "the stadium for the 21st Century." It's the jewel of St. Petersburg - even though the then-commissioner of Major League Baseball told the city that just because they build it, they won't necessarily come - and a state-of-the-art masterpiece in all of its air-conditioned glory.

Then, Camden Yards is built....

Now, the stadium that was built only two short years prior - the year in which the dome (now renamed the Thunderdome) is inhabited by both the NHL's Lightning and AFL's Storm - is now "functionally obsolete" for the original purpose it was built, a sport that hadn't even been awarded to the area yet and won't be for another four years. Everyone "in the know" now wants their very own Camden Yards in their downtowns; apparently, what works in one city is a goldmine everywhere, or so the thinking goes.

So, with that in mind, the 9th-newest stadium in Major League Baseball when the Rays first took the field is today the 9th-oldest (soon to become the 8th-oldest in 2012 with the opening of the Marlins' new house in Little Havana). Tropicana Field, as it's now called, is a relic long before its time. By declaring his intentions on June 21, Stu Sternberg has said, without a shadow of a doubt, that the Trop is done and needs to be replaced. And, he's not mincing words, either:

“Baseball in the Tampa Bay area does not belong to Stu Sternberg, just as it doesn’t belong to St. Petersburg or Tampa, Pinellas or Hillsborough. It is a regional asset. It belongs to our fans throughout the region. For this asset to be preserved, a comprehensive process to explore a new ballpark must begin."

So, as you can see, he's trying to force "regional cooperation" in determining the next site of the Rays base of operations. Personally, I'd love to see that myself, because for far too long, Tampa and St. Pete have acted like fierce rivals in some sort of chess match for total domination of the region. However, as a St. Petersburger, I can understand why residents on this side of the water feel constantly at-war with their neighbor to the northeast.

We are not like other "twin cities" in the country, namely Minneapolis/St. Paul and Dallas/Fort Worth. In those regions, they work together more than just philosophically; they share tax revenue from the areas' attractions - including their sports teams - along with spending money equally for regional services. Even now, here in Tampa Bay regional transit is beginning to take shape...with each county paying its own way, but only if the citizens of those counties vote to approve it at all in their borders. We do not cooperate like the Twin Cities or the Metroplex because we prefer to act independent - and bitch about it later when we can't afford luxuries we became accustomed to anymore.

When St. Petersburg built the Suncoast Dome 20 years ago, it was with St. Pete and Pinellas County money. Tampa brought nothing to the table, nor did Hillsborough, Manatee, Pasco, or any other county government for that matter. Basically put: if St. Pete loses the Rays, we lose not only a team or a piece of our civic pride, we also lose the money brought to this city by them each and every year since we were the only ones to bear the financial burden. This city and county had to go it alone, and sadly, this is how pretty much any public works project goes around here, and until that mentality changes, I can completely appreciate why the city of St. Pete refuses to listen to a suit from New York tell them how to "cooperate".

However, that leaves only three options to solving this mess, and none involve the lame - and tired - argument of "enforcing the contract through 2027 via legal proceedings"; let's face it: if the Seattle SuperSonics, original Cleveland Browns, and Baltimore Colts can all get out of their contracts relatively unscathed, so too can the Rays:

1. St. Petersburg must come to the table with a kickass proposal to be located in the Trop's current parking lot - something that will satiate Stu's wanderlust - while understanding we're going to have to probably front about 67% of the costs; not doing this will cause the city to lose a massively substantial tax base and, by extension, lose even more city services,
2. Tampa and St. Petersburg - along with all the surrounding counties, as well as others in the demographic area (Polk, Hernando, Sarasota, Citrus, Sumter, Hardee, and Desoto) - need to finally put "regional differences" aside, realize we need each other to survive in the 21st Century against the Charlottes, Austins, and Portlands of the country, and start working on a regional sales tax to pay for public works projects that affect more than 60% of the metro's population base, such as public transit, tourism advertising, and (yes) stadiums, or
3. Pack Evan Longoria's bags for him to move with the team to Norfolk/Virginia Beach, San Antonio, or Vancouver (What? Canada's hungry for another team!).

That all said, we're really not left with many choices. As much as Stu Sternberg is being vilified by the region (myself included) for telling us how to run our lives, his concise assessment may actually be something that will help us all much sooner than anyone expected. He said something that needed to be said for a long time, but no one has the muscle - or balls - to say it until now: we're a broken region with our petty parochialism. It's our own fault, though, but now's our chance to shine and make up for the shortsightedness of our parents. What was seen as a good idea with "home-rule" in the '50s is holding us back from becoming the next great region today.

However, tomorrow's another day, and hopefully we'll have come a long way by then. Hell, at least our grandparents had enough foresight to fly the world's first commercial "airline", as well as build the then-world's longest bridge, all in attempt for cross-bay cooperation. Maybe we can take a lesson from them instead and put it to use in 2010....