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Rushing Yards ' Mayor Bloomberg and Governor Pataki kicked off the West Side stadium deal on March 25, and like a lot of New Yorkers, I’m playing Monday morning quarterback. In a plan that would make Robert Moses proud and Bruce Ratner envious, the blocks between 30th and 33rd Street west of 11th Avenue will be taken for starters. After that, it’s a Hail Mary play. The Javits Center will expand an undetermined number of blocks north, and attempts to satisfy parking demands may draw inspiration from Atlantic City. Eminent domain is imminent. The City and State will be eating up yards like Chad Pennington on third and long. Whether it’s a first down is another story. Given that Giants Stadium will remain, we won’t even get to see an implosion, and that’s half the fun. The big question is, will the Jets bring Jimmy Hoffa with them, or will he continue to lie in state? Meanwhile, on this side of the river, the rendering of the new stadium looks like the back of a billboard. Makes you think Daniel Liebeskind has moved on to sports complexes. And given recent development trends on the West Side, you might ask just how high a luxury residential tower they’re building on top of the stadium, and how will Donald Trump squeeze in a promotion on The Apprentice? There is talk of breaking ground as early as next year, but with the whole thing built on a platform over the West Side rail yards, the idea is to break as little ground as possible. Not to be outdone by Riverbank State Park directly above the North River Sewage Treatment Plant, this park will be built above diesel fumes and creosote-soaked soil. And though the Jets are leaving the Meadowlands, traffic to the new stadium will be backed up to East Rutherford. Better take a ferry or paddle across the Hudson. But don’t worry about the fumes. There will be no smoking in or around Bloomberg Stadium. The projected price tag of the stadium alone is $1.4 billion. The theory is build it and they will pay. But that’s a lot of money to shell out just to know who the home team is in a Jets-Giants preseason game. The Jets would put up $800 million, and the City and State would put up $600 million. These days, spending money you don’t have is a lot more fashionable than spending money you do. Ask George W. Bush. City Hall estimates that for $91 million a year in debt service, the city will receive $128 million a year in new tax revenue. Unfortunately, these sort of studies are about as accurate as the five-day forecast and international weapons inspections. A couple of blown 2-point conversions against the Dolphins, and those numbers could flip-flop during halftime. The roof is retractable, but the bond issue isn’t. Another problem with economic analyses is how often and thoroughly they tend to ignore local history. The Jets-- formerly the Titans--occupied Shea Stadium from 1964 to 1984. They have shared custody of Giants Stadium with the Giants from 1984 to 2004 and running. Do we see a pattern emerging here? Sometime around 2024, when you and I are barely able to run a down-and-out to the men’s room, someone with the last name Johnson will be making noise about the need for more hovercraft landing pads, the outdated 100-foot plasma screen, and the utter lack of modern amenities like robot vendors, massage and aromatherapy stations, or built-in adjustable heating pad seat cushions. So you can’t be called offside for saying $1.4 billion might be too much for a 20-year stint. If you do the math, that’s about $8 million per home game. That’s A-Rod money applied to infrastructure. Even assuming every one of the 75,000 seats is filled every game, that’s about $100 per ticket just for the chair and the concrete holding it in place. That doesn’t leave much over for the Jets, the pretzel vendors, or the ticket scalpers. Now you know why you are being asked to pick up the difference. Meanwhile, the City’s numbers are as reliable as Scott Peterson’s alibi. I have two words for their cost estimates—Yankee Stadium. And you know what happens when there isn’t enough public or team money available to make it to the goal line, don’t you? We get Verizon Stadium. Or T-Mobile Bowl. Or Potamkin Park. During the press conference, Mayor Bloomberg said, “If you don’t have a smile on your face today, you’re never going to have one.” I’ll have one when Michael Bloomberg puts up the City’s $600 million himself. Until then, could we see something in a three-quarter of a billion dollar stadium, please? Doesn’t IKEA carry something like that we can put together ourselves? Or do we absolutely have to have the Bergdorf Goodman stadium? A variety of elected officials and the broad-based West Side Coalition are trying to sack the proposal, while Tony Soprano is for it. The community groups, at least, should be taken seriously. In a case like this one, cries of “there goes the neighborhood” are literal. It’s not a new ethnic or economic group that one fears. It’s the bulldozers. It’s not easy to give up the hardware store you’ve owned and operated for thirty years so that a couple of guys from Holmdel, New Jersey can have a tailgate party. Sure, I feel a little sorry for the Jets. They are nomads, wandering in the deserts of Shea and the Meadowlands for 40 years, and Michael Bloomberg wants to lead them into the promised land. It’s one thing when you don’t play in your home state. It’s another when you have to share even your home away from home. After a while, you feel like you’re in the XFL. No need to make a decision on season tickets yet. The year 2009 is a lot of heartbreaking autumns from now, and this debate will inevitably go to overtime. Textbooks or skyboxes? Firehouses or food courts? Parks or parking lots? Proposals like this one have a lot of hang time. It will be stop-and-go, and if history tells us anything, the process will be about as smooth as the Dennis Kozlowski trial. My heart says yes, but my head says no. My heart says my head is soft from too many tackle football games on the concrete playground at P.S. 196 in Queens. My head says my heart needs lampblack. Click here to rant back. |