Residents ask: What’s it worth to us?
Residents in West Tampa are concerned how a Rays ballpark proposed across from Raymond James Stadium, shown here on March 25, would affect their neighborhood.
Residents in West Tampa are concerned how a Rays ballpark proposed across from Raymond James Stadium, shown here on March 25, would affect their neighborhood.
A recent Times story highlighted three aspects of the fast-moving Tampa Bay Rays stadium deal that deserve more attention, from the concerns of surrounding neighborhoods and the legacy of the Bucs’ handout years ago to the mistake today of having the team drive the discussion about what it wants from our community — instead of the other way around.
My colleagues Nicolas Villamil and Nina Moske penned a wonderful read last week that marks the perfect starting point. Their article gave voice to the many residents of West Tampa and Macfarlane Park who’ve been on the short end of the stick since Raymond James Stadium opened nearby three decades ago as the new home of the NFL’s Tampa Bay Buccaneers.
The stadium’s location is tough enough, built along traffic-choked Dale Mabry Highway cocooned by street-level parking as far as the eye can see. But on game days, the barren landscape turns into a chaotic mess, with cars cutting through the neighborhoods, fans trampling in droves across shrubs and lawns, and the remnants from tailgaters littered behind long after the final whistle.
“Everybody uses our roads,” Missy Martin, of the Macfarlane neighborhood, told the Times. “You can see the condition.”
Jaime Jones, of West Tampa Heights, said the residents most affected by a stadium should benefit, too. “We want to be a priority,” Jones said, as the Rays and Tampa-area officials negotiate a ballpark envisioned nearby, at the site of Hillsborough College. “We want to be heard.”
That didn’t happen in 1996, when the Bucs pushed hard and fast for a new stadium. West Tampa, a heavily Hispanic neighborhood, is home to many generational residents, and to some, that sense of being ignored only compounded the indignity of watching local tax money fund a stadium for millionaire team owners, souring the image here of what a partnership between taxpayers and professional sports teams.
This is the political environment the Rays’ owners face. It explains why residents are energized but guarded, seeking road and drainage improvements, better traffic management, maybe even a neighborhood improvement fund financed by a surcharge on game tickets. It explains why the Rays are promising to address these concerns through a Community Benefits Agreement, a legally binding pledge to provide certain concessions. And it explains why the toughest road to a stadium deal may be through the Tampa City Council, whose members are already gearing up for next year’s city elections.
These are the prices team owners pay for building in established urban neighborhoods. Even decades after the Bucs handout, skepticism remains high. While Rays and local officials may have developed some familiarity over months of closed-door negotiations, it’s worth remembering that any Community Benefits Agreement unveiled as part of a deal is likely just a starting point — a floor to measure the public’s appetite for its share of the pie, which will likely increase over time.
That, of course, raises the final point. We’ve known from the outset what the Rays wanted. They wanted a new stadium, wanted it in Tampa, wanted it heavily subsidized and wanted it buttressed by new commercial development. They wanted a stronger revenue stream, a larger home base market, and a 21st-century fan experience. They wanted a deal cut quickly, involving government land, public money and the displacement of an existing college. They also wanted their redesign of a Tampa neighborhood to reflect this community’s vision.
But only now are our local officials trying to attach public pieces to someone else’s puzzle, whether that’s a sidewalk, internships, affordable homes or a pedestrian bridge over an F-rated roadway. The leverage in the ongoing discussion is out of whack. And the public payback remains too intangible.
The Rays appear to grasp the politics in play, shaped by the Bucs’ experience, and how that episode clouds stadium talks today. But whether they’ve learned from it or not, the legacy’s still remarkably bitter and a tough one to overcome.
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