Mid-July in Portland is supposed to be about summer activities. The weather is usually warm. The roses are just past bloom, but it’s a great time to boat on the river, hike in the mountains, or head to the coast for a weekend of fun and relaxation. This is about the time that Portland Trail Blazers discussion transitions too, as the old season and the NBA Draft fade into memory and the new year starts peeking over the horizon.
Unfortunately, July, 2026 holds a few unresolved topics in Blazers Land. The chief-est among them is the battle of the Trail Blazers and their new owner Tom Dundon versus the City of Portland over publicly-funded renovation to the Moda Center, Portland’s NBA arena. While state and county funding for the project came relatively quickly, the city wants more assurances and details before committing $120 million of municipal funds.
This is fairly standard. The City of Portland owns the arena. They’re the entity most associated with the Trail Blazers and most affected by their decisions. City leaders will look foolish if they spend tens of millions on the project only to watch the team move to Las Vegas five years later anyway. Long-term leases and tax arrangements are of paramount importance to them alongside the renovation (along with—you know—knowing what’s actually going to be renovated). Accordingly they’ve [sent a proposal to the team](/trail-blazers-analysis/109032/portland-trail-blazers-moda-center-arena-fight-tom-dundon-oregon-legislature-bill-funding-taxes) detailing their asks in the negotiations.
The response from the Blazers is about what you’d expect. So far it has amounted to, “The state and county had less information when they approved these measures months ago, so what’s the hold-up with you?” Could the Blazers be more helpful, forthcoming, and collaborative? Sure. Do they have to? No. And at this point, the Blazers don’t appear to be doing anything they don’t have to.
Long story short, we appear to be stuck. And each party is pointing fingers at the other.
We [foreshadowed this exact scenario back in February](/trail-blazers-analysis/109032/portland-trail-blazers-moda-center-arena-fight-tom-dundon-oregon-legislature-bill-funding-taxes), anticipating the debate over public funding of the arena. If you want a brief on leverage and the tactics being used, that article might be a good place to start. It also offers an alternative perspective, one that—to this point—neither side has embraced fully. But we’ll see. Negotiations are at their midpoint, not an end. There’s still room for people to move.
In this in-between time, let’s reset our view on the issue, cut through the fear and misdirection, and reorientate. What’s really going on? Here’s a basic summary.
This is the big question on the minds of all Portland fans. The answer is, we don’t know yet. It’s impossible to know, because those decisions are in the hands of a small group of people.
In the short-term, they lie in the province of Portland’s civic leaders. They hold the power to grant the $120 million and make this problem go away (for now) or withhold it and force the Blazers to escalate. The main question will be how much they can extract out of the team for the funding: how long a tenure, how much financial renumeration, how much control over the project and use of facilities. That’s what they’re trying to buy with the renovation money.
In the long-term, ongoing residence lies in the hands of Tom Dundon and the NBA. Nothing is going to change that. Though they’re negotiating with public entities and using public funds, the Blazers and the NBA remain a private business. If Dundon decides to move and the league approves it, the Blazers will move.
That doesn’t mean that the owner and the league want the franchise to move, necessarily. They’re negotiating in the opposite direction from the city, trying to extract as much financial benefit as possible with as few concessions as necessary. They want to retain power and dollars instead of passing them across the negotiating table to the opponent.
It would be possible to conduct these negotiations in a mutually-collaborative, friendly manner. Right now we could be watching Dundon and Portland Mayor Keith Wilson, arm in arm in front of a podium, vowing to keep the Blazers in town no matter what.
We’re not hearing that. The bargaining has turned adverse, with each side implying that the other is operating in some level of bad faith.
Given that, we all should be aware of one key factor that outweighs all others in adverse bargaining: When negotiations get contentious, the one who cares the least gets the most.
You already understand this instinctively. Think of a dating scenario where one person really, really wants to go out with the other, but the object of their affection is lukewarm. What happens? Flowers, candy, Spotify playlists and repeated texts, all going from the person who cares most to the person who cares least.
Think also of auto lot negotiations. One of the first pieces of advice that Dad gives you when you go off to buy a car is, “Never let them know that you want it.” As soon as they’re aware of that, discounts disappear and extras cost money instead of getting thrown in free.
This applies to the Moda Center situation too. The City of Portland wants the Blazers to stay. You and I care a lot about this team too. That automatically puts the public at a disadvantage when negotiating with the team. They know you want them. You know you want them. Otherwise we wouldn’t even be here, talking about this. Does Tom Dundon care about the Blazers staying in Portland? You don’t really know, do you? And that’s the exact point.
We all wish the friendly scenario would play out, that Dundon, Adam Silver, and the Blazers would vow to stay in Portland forever. If they did this, they’d be giving up their main leverage in the negotiations. That’s why you’re never, ever going to hear them say those words…at least not until the money is handed over. In fact, you’re going to hear the opposite. Commissioner Silver will say, “Our goal is to keep the team in Portland, but…” The organization itself will act like it could care less, seeming quite willing to move at the drop of a hat. This cements their power, giving them the best chance at a good outcome from their perspective.
Having said that, we can probably read tea leaves and guess what things weigh most in this situation.
First of all, the power over this decision is in the hands of a billionaire business investor who just paid $4 billion for this team. He will feel—maybe justly—that his own priorities and those of his ownership group matter most, as they have the most skin in the game. In practical terms, whatever Tom Dundon says matters, matters.
The NBA also has some say in the proceedings. The league is governed jointly by its owners, through the league office and Commissioner. Dundon cannot unilaterally move the Blazers without their approval. However, neither the owners nor the Commissioner will come to the rescue of Portland fans in this instance because they all want to advocate for the league—as a business—to get the most favorable terms possible in such negotiations. That sets the standard for every other owner who has to make similar bargains in their municipalities. If Dundon gets his arena fixed for free, the next guy can demand it too.
Like the teasing date who says they _might_ want to go out with you, neither affirming nor denying your advances, the NBA will say they are committed to Portland to the exact extent it takes to keep the city and its people at the bargaining table but they will never commit to keeping the team in place.
It’s pretty easy to see where the emphasis lies here: return on investment. The best deal for the pockets of the owners will be the biggest influence on their actions. Nothing is going to replace that. It’s cold, mathematical, like a shark that wants to eat and doesn’t pay attention to much else. If you give them the money, they will stay for the next 20 years. It’s just that simple.
Here’s the good news. I don’t believe that Dundon or his ownership group have a philosophical or personal commitment to any plan that would take the Blazers out of Portland. We haven’t seen anything to indicate that yet. Committing to such a plan right now would be premature, expensive, short-sighted.
But there’s a flip side. Dundon is a businessman, which is the same as saying a strategist. If you think the owners don’t have contingency plans that include the Blazers departing, you’re foolish, because then _they_ would be foolish. Option B—the Las Vegas Blazers—exists alongside Option A. When the choice to stay becomes unpalatable, the strategic focus will shift to moving.
The upshot is, if you want the Trail Blazers to stay, you have to feed the shark and give Tom Dundon exactly what he wants. You can pretend to negotiate in order to save face, but he knows that the city, the fans, the legacy, and the tradition of the team all amount to people _caring_ about whether they stay or not. They want one outcome. As long as he has two options and doesn’t particularly care which one he uses, he has the upper hand. Dundon has no incentive to give a rip whether the Trail Blazers stay in Rip City. In fact, caring about that would be harmful to his interests. Sharks don’t become sharks by hopping on other people’s hooks.
What of fan loyalty in all of this? Does it matter anymore?
It does, but you have to understand what it’s good for and where it’s all but useless.
Think of the passion you hold for the team like a currency, investment in one of those loyalty programs that all the shops are enrolling you into nowadays. The investment accrues and will spend, but only in certain ways. Your loyalty program at Freddies might allow you a 30% discount on certain items, but not in their jewelry or electronics department. If you take it down the street to Shiny Hal’s Auto and try to get 30% off of a Camaro, they’re going to laugh at you.
In this specific instance, Tom Dundon and the Blazers don’t need your passion. Your loyalty does not spend here. It’s irrelevant when it comes to affecting their decisions directly. You can plead and cajole and recount years of history with the team. None of that equals $120 million in free public funding. It’s worth exactly zero dollars. It doesn’t matter unless they personally say it matters. They’ve given no indications of that. There’s no need for owners to smile at podiums and glad-hand constituents. If you don’t support them, they can find another group of loyal fans in a new city to court and sell tickets to.
Your passion does play a role in these negotiations, though. You are directly connected to politicians in Portland, the people on the other side of the table from Dundon and the Blazers. Their purpose is different. They’ve been elected by you to serve the public good. Most fans believe that having the Blazers in town is part of that public good. Many are also voters. By nature, politicians are affected by your voices far more than team owners. And unlike the Blazers, the City of Portland cannot, in fact, pack itself up and move to a new city. Stuck with its constituency, the city is forced to care even more.
Fans see themselves throwing energy and emotion at both parties in these negotiations, hoping that they’ll come together to help the team stay in town. The reception of that energy is not the same. The half directed towards Dundon and the actual franchise slides right off like eggs thrown at a steel fortress. Those yolks drip down into the laps of the people waiting below: city officials who have already received their half of the lobbing (and lobbying). Unwittingly, your emotion is being used to egg on the people who care more about you on behalf of the people who care far less. And every time Dundon or Adam Silver or a local columnist mentions that the Blazers might leave, a new round of egg chucking begins. Welcome to the world of icky negotiating.
Ironically, as soon as these negotiations are done and ownership gets whatever ownership wants, fan loyalty will become a rallying cry for the team again. It’s the lever sports teams use to sell tickets when they don’t win championships. “Yeah, we’re not that good, but come and root for how hard we play, how we’re making progress! Cheer like your parents did, and their parents, and pass this on to your children too!” Like the supermarket discount program, fan passion does spend, but only in the exact ways the team wants it to, the ways that benefit the franchise.
To be fair, sports teams aren’t alone in this. If you’ve ever attended an institution of higher learning you will be familiar with the periodic letters you receive in the mail. “Dear Alumnus, please donate X amount of dollars to perpetuate the legacy of dear Schrooah U for the next generation of learners. We need an updated dining hall and a new practice facility for the football team. Remember all the good times you had here? We’re forever family!” Sure, that’s great, but if you write your alma mater and say, “Hey fam, I’m a little short on funds this month but I’d really like to take this course for free,” or even ask for a hoodie or a meal in the student union, guess what they’re going to tell you? “Our registrar and financial aid offices are that way. Please enroll and pay your semester fees.”
When an institution wants something from you, you’re family. When you want something from them, they’re a business. That’s one of the main ways you can tell someone is looking at you from a corporate lens instead of a mutually-beneficial, interpersonal one.
In the institutional, corporate world, loyalty goes exactly as far as the people in power wish it to, and for the exact aims they choose. If you have the luxury of thinking your loyalty to the Trail Blazers matters in the big sense, one of three things is true:
1. They have a fantastic, personable owner who’s committed to the local community in rare and deep ways, returning mutual loyalty voluntarily.
2. Things are so placid and normal with the team that we’re able to talk about loyalty as a factor that influences our experience positively, experiencing the thrill of participating without worrying about getting contradicted by reality. Or…
3. They’re trying to sell you something.
Neither 1 nor 2 are applicable here. The third provision is absolutely happening, but you’re not being sold the standard season ticket package this time. Instead the team and the league are pitching you to act on your fear about the team moving to lean on your local politicians to give up the bag. Your loyalty has no power against them, but it can sure work for them.
Having cut through the fog a bit, we can see that the whole issue narrows down to a simple premise. Do you want the Blazers to stay? Then give them the money. You’re part of a shakedown where one party has all the power and near-complete immunity from influence while the other party has everything at stake emotionally and plenty to lose. That’s not going to end well for the more vulnerable side. The only way around that is to stop caring and stop negotiating. If you’re not going to do that, you have to pay Dundon. End of story.
Obviously there needs to be a long-term lease agreement so we’re sure the city is getting what it’s paying for. Everybody also has to hope that the shark is full and doesn’t come back two weeks later asking for more goldfish. Beyond that, there’s not much else to hope for.
That said, we don’t have to _like_ this process. Things could have gone differently. It absolutely sucks to have your passion and loyalty twisted to ends that you didn’t intend, working against your good instead of for it. But that’s the way the game goes. If you’re going to play it, you have to take the consequences.
I think it’s also fair to say that we have entered the Corporation Era of the Trail Blazers, where pretense at humanity or emotion rings hollow. NBA Basketball is a product. It’s often a good product! You can judge the pleasure and satisfaction you get from the Blazers flavor accordingly. But the terms have been set and limited, at least from the Blazers’ end, to just that. You are worth what they can extract from you. You can certainly be forgiven for judging the franchise in the same light from now on.
In some ways this is a cleaner transaction, but I can’t help but think that something generationally important is fading away now. At one point, I think that the relationship between the Blazers and Portland was more than the sum of its parts. It’s been slipping for years, but the callous disregard for, and bald weaponization of, fan loyalty in this incidence is like signing a death certificate for it, at least under the current ownership group.
I also think there’s just reason to fear this new, corporate era. This movement has not had beneficial results for our country or its businesses over the last couple decades.
I used to frequent one of those take-and-bake pizza places pretty regularly. It was a nice treat, fairly decent food at a good price. Then it got taken over and the “doing more with less” corporate mentality swept in. Now they cut the toppings so fine they’re practically like baby food mush. You can taste the tin can in the sauce. Many frozen pizzas are better. It’s way more expensive too, of course. We seldom go there anymore. If we do, it’s at a huge discount on a coupon offer. They taught us to respond like that by the way they treated the relationship. Either way, I’m pretty sure whatever profits are left are being funneled to fewer and fewer people at the top of the organization, the ones who make the decisions with impunity. I don’t think they care about the actual product, just the money they take in from it. They got their dough; we lost the pizza.
It’ll be interesting to see if there are parallels in the Blazers experience. The team is leveraging fan loyalty to extract hundreds of millions from the community around it to pay for renovations that, at heart, are designed to make it (and its owners) even more money. It’d be sad to go through all of this and end up with a tin-sauce, diced-sausage relationship.
One thing’s for sure. Anybody who’s rooting for this is loopy. No matter how you feel about the Blazers staying—and I want them to stay too—we’ve reached a dividing point where we’re no longer able to pretend that just because the team does something, it’s good, or right, or in our interest.
A couple of years ago the WWE began announcing at its monthly PLE shows that it took in the “biggest gate ever” at that event. The crowd would cheer. Then everybody figured out that it meant that the WWE had charged more money to see them than ever before. When the product itself didn’t line up, everybody went silent and people stopped coming. It was a great example of celebrating the corporate mindset when, in actuality, what was happening benefited nobody save a few people at the top of the chain.
It’s going to be sad if the same thing happens in Portland. We don’t know, of course. We’ll just have to see. And it looks very much like we’ll be seeing in a renovated arena with publicly-funded luxury boxes and such. So be it, I guess. We’ll do what we’re supposed to do: shut up and pay the man his money.
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