The idea of a professional sports team calling two cities home at one time isn’t new, and it is thrilling only in its potential for chaos. The Rays, currently the Tampa Bay Rays, are the team at the center of the latest multi-city quest, with Jeff Passan of ESPN reporting that Montreal is being explored as a shared option for the franchise:
Under the plan, the Rays would play in new stadiums in both the Tampa Bay area and Montreal, according to sources. The ability to play games early in the season in Florida would preclude the need for a domed stadium, cutting the cost of a new building.
But even though the exploration of such a move was approved by MLB, there is the matter of dealing with the city of St. Petersburg, who doesn’t sound like a willing participant in such shenanigans.
Even though the idea is essentially dead, it doesn’t mean we can’t come up with a name.
The X-Rays is cool. Just think of the cool, potentially glow-in-the-dark uniform designs that could produce.
I’m partial to the Snowbirds, the nickname given to folks who flee the cold winter months to warmer climates.
Maybe the Exorcists. The Rays already got rid of their original Devil Rays name, so this fits. And Montreal would get to heal from the demons who took baseball away from them in 2004.
What about the Pucks? As a nod to a great hockey city like Tampa, that has won a Stanley Cup more recently than Montreal.
The Royal Tarpons could be a combination homage to longtime minor league traditions in each city. Jackie Robinson, among many others, played for the Montreal Royals, while Johnny Bench and Pete Rose, for example, played for the Tampa Tarpons.
Why the Rays need to move
Tropicana Field is a bad stadium and are second-worst in MLB in attendance, averaging 14,546 fans per game. The only reason Tampa isn’t dead last is because the other Florida baseball team — the Miami Marlins — has treated its fan base like a punching bag for yearsand wonder why nobody shows up to their still-shiny seven-year-old stadium.
The Rays tried for a new stadium of their own, going so far as to share renderings of a new park in Ybor City, about a half hour away from Tropicana Field, which is located in St. Petersburg, last July.
Financing never got past the planning stages, and at the 2018 winter meetings Rays owner Stu Sternberg announced those stadium plans, originally set to open in 2023, were scrapped, leaving the Rays at Tropicana Field for the foreseeable future. Their lease at the stadium runs out in 2027.
Sternberg on Thursday confirmed his team’s dalliance with Montreal, saying, “My priority remains the same, I am committed to keeping baseball in Tampa Bay for generations to come. I believe this concept is worthy of serious exploration.”
Because nothing says “commitment” by working with another city to host at least some of your team’s games. That’s all this really is, pitting two cities against one another to see who ultimately wins out. The city that’s poutine its money where its mouth is will ultimately get the team, who is just looking to Rays revenue. That’s how this always goes.
This isn’t new
Montreal has been through this two-city thing before. MLB bought the Expos and had them split their time between Montreal and San Juan, Puerto Rico, playing 43 of 161 home games (26.7%) at Hiram Bithorn Stadium in 2003-04. The team averaged only 11,026 fans over those two years, dead last in MLB, before the franchise was relocated to Washington D.C. for the 2005 season and renamed the Nationals.
The Hornets shared New Orleans with Oklahoma City for two seasons from 2005-07, gauging the latter for NBA feasibility. New Orleans got to keep its team, but there was still a victim city. There always is. Seattle got kicked on the crotch this time, getting to briefly glimpse Kevin Durant before the Sonics moved to OKC in 2009 and became the Thunder.
Tampa Bay is bound to be the eventual victim in the Rays situation. Every attempt at a new stadium has fallen through, so why on Earth would they agree to build a new stadium, only to share it with another city?
Montreal’s motivation is much clearer. They were a major league city for 36 seasons, and had their best season (1994) wiped out by a strike that canceled the World Series. They’ve had no baseball for a decade and a half, and are desperate for anything they can get.
There are far too many problems with a two-city team, but that doesn’t mean we can’t root for chaos. What would fan interest be like in cities that are only half committed to by the team? Just imagine the logistical nightmares for players, needing to find homes in two different cities.
Do the Rays split holidays too, splitting Thanksgiving weekend to Tampa Bay on Thursday and Montreal on Friday?
Such a move wouldn’t happen right away anyway. After all, those new stadiums still need to be built, if they even are at all. Luckily the owners meetings are this week in New York, so commissioner Rob Manfred was ready with a comment on Thursday.
As much as it might be cool and strange to see a nomad team split time with two cities, don’t bet on that happening. This is a bidding war, and the city that financially entices the Rays the most will be the one that receives its services. No half measures here.
