Dare to hope
By GARY SHELTON
Published October 7, 2005
There was no hope. Now there is.
There was no way. Now there is an urge to look again.
Stuart Sternberg, the most popular owner in the history of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays, was working the room, his voice rising and falling like a passionate teacher delivering a course outline on the first day of class. Now and again, he would bang the podium for emphasis.
Sternberg was one step out of the shadows, and already, he had conquered the joint. The players in the back were captivated, the politicians were mesmerized and those employees who still had their heads attached were entranced.
Now pinch-hitting for the Mudville Nine: Sternberg for Naimoli.
Just like that, Thursday felt a lot better than Wednesday.
On a day of first impressions and opening statements, what more could you really ask? If there was something you needed to hear, he said it. If there was a proper note to be hit, he hammered it. His was a smooth voice, a persuasive voice, a voice that will make fans look again and sponsors listen again.
Say this for Sternberg. The guy knows how to say hello.
Yeah, yeah, yeah. Words are the easy part. History is crammed with bad owners who started off with good speeches. Remember Art Williams? Remember Vince Naimoli? Remember Hugh Culverhouse? They all sounded good in the beginning.
So keep this in perspective. The Rays did not win the pennant Thursday. They did not double their payroll or hire a manager, announce a new stadium or sign free agents two by two. The mess that always has been this franchise still needs mopping.
On the other hand, ask yourself this: Are the Rays better off?
Answer: You betcha.
Simply put, Sternberg is the best chance the Rays have had. He seems better prepared, better suited, better financed than Naimoli. His vision has more range and his trigger is less touchy. If Naimoli was Don Quixote, forever jousting in make-believe battles, then Sternberg is Spartacus. He's outnumbered, but there is some savvy there.
It was hard not to be impressed with Sternberg, the Dylan-quoting, Springsteen-listening, softball-playing millionaire. For a year now, fans have waited to see if there was something different about him, something worth believing in.
Maybe there is. Already, Sternberg has put the gold in Naimoli's parachute and dangled Chuck LaMar and his cronies from a catwalk. Tomorrow, maybe he changes the team nickname. Who knows?
Also, everybody parks for free.
As opening moves go, it's hard not to like this one. It was a move that keeps money in the pockets of the fans, and when is the last time an owner bothered? If it meant he could make an extra dollar, most owners would park on the fans.
Now, of course, comes the hard part. Sternberg has to give the fans a reason to want to park.
As nice as his inaugural address might have been, this is a difficult task. The market is questionable. The fan base is fractured. The division is intimidating. Why would a man who made millions as an investor want to buy into the Rays?
"I've asked myself that," Sternberg said. "I'm a very private person, and you would think it's the last thing a private person would want to do. I just have an overriding passion for baseball. I didn't want to be a sports team owner; I wanted to be a baseball owner."
It was late Thursday, and Sternberg sat in a meeting room of the Vinoy. He looked a little worn. He had spent hours talking about himself, about his vision, and now he was answering his final questions.
Sternberg was talking about the responsibility of an owner, about putting the right people in the right places, about not meddling too much, about providing direction and perspective. His style, he was saying, will not be particularly demonstrative. He is not George Steinbrenner. He is not Mark Cuban.
Then he was asked about being competitive, and Sternberg smiled slightly and edged forward in his seat.
"I seem like a pretty mild guy," he said. "But I spent 20 years on the floor of the American Stock Exchange. Have you ever seen the movie Trading Places? I was in the busiest of the busiest of places. The pits, we called it.
"I'm screaming and yelling and barking and grabbing and fighting and all to be a winner, to get in there and get more than the next guy, because if I didn't get it in a split second he was going to take it from me, or she was going to take it from me. And I was pretty good at what I did.
"I've spent my entire life grabbing at it, ripping at it and getting it."
In that moment, you could see a little flint inside of Sternberg. It was good to see. For all the happy talk about musicians and authors, you want an owner who is annoyed by last place.
Many of Sternberg's plans are sketchy. We do not know how much his payroll will increase. (My guess: it hovers somewhere in the mid 30s.) We don't know who his manager will be. We don't know whether he can wrap up his young stars with long-term contracts, whether the front office will be more adept at trades, how eager the franchise will be during free agency.
For now, at least Sternberg seems to get it. Of all of Naimoli's failings, the chief one seemed to be that he expected fans to show up at the park out of obligation. Sternberg knows fans won't show up to see him own.
So, Stuart, what do you have to prove to Tampa Bay?
"That I will be a responsible steward for this business," he said. "Someone who will do whatever is necessary to reach out to an entire area to make them a part of what we're trying to accomplish.
So, Stuart, what does Tampa Bay have to prove to you?
"Nothing," he said quietly. "Just give me a chance."