by Ron MacLean
Either some didn’t believe him, or they weren’t paying attention, but as the lockout continued past the cancellation of the 2004–05 season, problems arose. Players knew the start of the next season was also in jeopardy, and they lost composure and faith. Certain players felt Bob was not the guy to get the deal done, and they derailed him.
On February 19, 2005, Trevor Linden met alone with Harley Hotchkiss, part owner of the Calgary Flames who was also chairman of the NHL Board of Governors at the time. Sometimes, smaller sessions can lead to breakthroughs, but in this case the meeting aided the owners’ position.
The players requested that Goodenow’s second-in-command, Ted Saskin, sub in and deal with Gary’s lieutenant, Bill Daly. The two met in Niagara Falls, and the players lost even more footing. Daly and Saskin agreed to a 24-per-cent rollback on existing contracts, a $34 million cap with a $21.5 million minimum, and that was the end of Goodenow. He wanted no part of the deal and resigned. We will never know whether Goodenow’s strategy of continuing to sit without cracking would have worked.
The formula consists of multiple caps. There is one that is specific to rookie salaries. There is another on individual players’ salaries—no guy can make more than 20 per cent of the team cap. There is a cap on each team—how much a team can spend on player payroll. And there is a leaguewide cap—the cumulative total that all teams spend on player salaries. The owners have an insurance policy in case the leaguewide cap is breached. It’s called escrow—a percentage of players’ salaries is held back, and if the owners stay within the leaguewide cap, the players get the money back. If they go over, the escrow is used to make up the shortfall. In other words, the players subsidize the owners.
The league calculates the sum total of all hockey-related revenues (HRR), and players, as a group, are assigned a share of this. In 2005, it was 54 per cent, and it’s now 57 per cent. All player compensation—not just salaries, but also signing bonuses, amounts received by injured players and contract buyouts—must come under this limit. There’s also a salary “floor”—a minimum amount that teams must spend. The floor is set at $16 million below the salary cap.
At the start of 2011, owners thought they were going to overspend by 17 per cent, so they withheld 17 per cent of the players’ salaries. This rate is adjusted every three months as the owners look at revenues. The final calculation for 2011 was down to about 6 per cent. So if a player’s contract gave him a $2 million salary, the league kept 120 grand. A guy like Crosby gave the league back almost a half million dollars in 2011.
The current collective bargaining agreement gives players absolutely no input into decisions that affect revenue. This means where teams play, which franchises should be moved, which payrolls are out of whack. The players can’t say, “Gary, we think you should move the Phoenix Coyotes to Hamilton. That way, the league won’t lose money on that franchise, and we won’t have to pay back 17 per cent of our salaries to make up your losses.” Owners never have to engage—it’s strictly a one-way street. They can do a poor job of managing the revenues, but no one can call them out on it.
Goodenow told me that one owner informed him that, every time the owners discuss the escrow provision, they enjoy a hearty laugh. This owner was truly astounded that the players agreed to hand over total control over operating and labour costs while also providing sufficient funds to cover overruns.
Owners told the public that if they couldn’t get salaries under control, fans would have to pay higher ticket prices. I don’t see it that way. Even with a salary cap, owners can continue to charge whatever they want for tickets, concessions, beer, sponsorships, parking, and television and radio rights. Games in Toronto, Vancouver or Calgary are not a cheap night out. Prices are set by supply and demand. The truth is that some teams used to spend much more on salaries. Before the lockout, the big-budget teams like the Rangers, Philly, Toronto and Detroit were each spending $80 million. Was it so expensive that they had to take out loans to cover payroll? Of course not. They all made money.
Today’s top players all take less than market value, for the good of the game and for the good of their teams. The Sedin brothers took hometown discounts. They had to. Otherwise, the Vancouver Canucks would not be Stanley Cup contenders.
Since the collective bargaining agreement, rather than working out a dollar figure with the owners, it’s now a fight between twenty-three guys on each team to divvy up the amount allowed under the cap.
The multimillionaire owner can sit out until the cows come home. The players are in a gunfight, armed with a butter knife.
For the next go-round, players only have a chance if their union leader is extremely tough and principled. Goodenow was, but the members didn’t understand it. They got fat.
One more point. I think the cap does the game a disservice. Toronto has missed the playoffs seven years in a row. Limited in how much they can spend on players, the Leafs have fallen off the face of the earth.
I loved the dynasty teams in the pre-cap days. When you had the Oilers in their heyday, they were loaded with talent and just a joy to watch. I understand fans were unhappy when suddenly Paul Coffey, Mark Messier and Wayne Gretzky moved, or when Calgary traded their Stanley Cup team away, trades motivated by contract issues with Hall of Famers Doug Gilmour, Al MacInnis and Joe Nieuwendyk, among others.
The cap lowers the quality of the top teams. Which is better: a powerful Cup dynasty, or the suspense created by contrived competitiveness? Teams now have a better chance if Toronto, Detroit, Philly and the Rangers can’t hire away all the top talent. The Blackhawks blew apart, trading players after winning the Cup in 2010. They couldn’t keep everybody and stay under the cap, so pfffft! they were gone. If you build a winner, you have to tear it down. And it used to be that players stayed together for years, building a fraternity and ties with their fans. Now it’s a mercenary culture, like all the other athletes in capped sports—”Win or lose, drink the booze, who cares? We win, we don’t stay together as a team. There is no family anymore. I’m here for today, gone tomorrow.”
Lots of people think that’s great. I can’t convince them it’s not. They love the standings where, with two games left, nine teams are four points apart, still in the playoff hunt. They think it’s terrific. I sound like a nut trying to explain that it’s bad. I really do. I don’t lose sleep over it, but it does grind me that the Blackhawks were gutted and that it’s going to happen to Edmonton again in a few years.
Bottom line, I want to see John, Paul, George and Ringo. Not John and Paul and two guys they can afford.
22
IF YOU DON’T WANT ME TO TELL ANYONE, DON’T TELL ME
During the 1999 Stanley Cup run, Don and I covered the Eastern Conference final between Buffalo and Toronto, and when that ended, Colorado was still playing Dallas in the Western final. We were sent to Dallas to do the seventh game on June 4. They were having a real problem at the Reunion Arena. It had been built in 1980, and apparently they had never contemplated that hockey would be played in the summer, so it was not equipped to deal with 80-per-cent humidity and 90-degree temperatures. They were having a tough time maintaining quality ice, so the NHL flew in its ice expert, Dan Craig.
I had been a weatherman, so I knew all about the humidex (known in the States as the heat index), which is an indicator of what the temperature “feels like,” based on how hard the human body has to work to cool itself. The humidex was a story because it affected the play.
We had been covering the story of the bad ice in Dallas, and that night I took the humidex device and went on the air. “Good evening. Welcome to game seven, the dramatic conclusion to the series between Colorado and Dallas. Obviously, one of the questions on our minds here on June 4 is, ‘Will the ice be okay for this big game?’ Then I pressed the button, and the humidex reported 98 degrees Fahrenheit.
The ice was slushy. I reported that Dan Craig had been flown in and had put ventilation ducts in the ceiling to cool the ice to minus-6 degrees Celsius, about two
degrees colder than normal. I also pointed out that the Zamboni doors were being left ajar to help get rid of some of the humidity. I talked about all these things they were doing to try to ensure that we would have decent ice for the important game. And then I said, “And now, here’s a feature on the great Rocket Richard.” And as soon as I threw to the item on Rocket Richard and we were off air, Gary Bettman came running over to me. “Ron, why do you have to talk about ‘bad ice conditions’? Everybody understands that we are in Dallas, Texas, and there is bound to be hot weather. This is a big game, and it’s not fair to the players and it’s not fair to the game that you are so negative. We’re all looking forward to this game.”
I said, “Well, Gary, if it weren’t the first week of June, we wouldn’t have to worry about it, would we?” There’s not a human alive who wouldn’t like to see hockey end earlier in the season. But the truth of the matter is that we play in June because the major American networks won’t allow the playoffs to end in May, which is one of the “ratings sweeps” months that they base their advertising rates on.
During the entire half-hour of the pre-game show, Gary and I continued to take swipes at each other behind the scenes about my negativity and the heat and playing in June. Colin Campbell was standing there, his eyes as wide as saucers. Then I went over to the dressing room that we were using as a studio for Coach’s Corner that night. Don was in there having a coffee, and I vented a bit. I said, “Gary Bettman wasn’t too happy with me talking about the relative humidity and the possibility that the ice would be a concern tonight.”
Don said, “Oh, is that right?” He didn’t say another word about it.
Later that night, at the beginning of Coach’s Corner, Don said, “You know, Ron, this is really something. We flew in, we’re very lucky guys, we fly in for the seventh game between Colorado and Dallas. Do you know, Ron—this is true, I just found this out, my buddy Dave works for Sports Illustrated—there are more professional hockey teams in the state of Texas than anywhere in the world? They’ve absolutely gone crazy for hockey. They love it here. I just come out of Denver the other night there. They had their 350th consecutive sellout. They’re going crazy in Colorado. You’ve got the Stars and the Avalanche. Mike Modano and Joe Sakic have never been better. You got Eddie Belfour against Patrick Roy. It’s the seventh game, Saturday night, everybody is in a good mood. Except you. You’ve got to stand out there with your stupid thermometer trying to ruin it for everybody. Can’t you just give it a rest? This is a hockey show. We’re trying to have a good time here. All right?”
After the Coach’s Corner segment ended, Gary Bettman came hustling into the room, wearing a wide smile. His hand was out to Don. “Thank you, Don, thank you! Absolutely great show.”
The season after the lockout, every arena had signs painted on the ice, just inside the blue lines at either end, that read, “Thank you fans!” And I could hear Gary’s voice all over again.
Gary always tells me what the viewers want. He came into the studio one time and said, “You know, Ron, you should keep your interviews to three questions on the same subject. It’s very boring for the interviewee and the viewer when you go back to the topic over and over again.” In New Jersey, in 2003, he said, “Ron, I’ve come to the conclusion that you think it’s a good interview if I look bad.” Of course I denied it, but inside I was chuckling. I told him I would take it easy. That night, I did the interview and asked just a couple of questions per subject. No arguments. In the cab back to our hotel, Bob Cole said to me, “That interview was nothing.”
My mom worried whenever I interviewed Gary. “Geez, Ronnie! Did you have to be so ignorant to Mr. Bettman? I would paste you for being so rude if you weren’t my son!” Paste me. She was always threatening to paste me. “Oh, Ronnie, you looked so smug on stage at the NHL awards. I just wanted to paste you.”
My dad says it got to the point where Mom wouldn’t even watch if Gary was on the show. She’d say, “Either turn it down or I’ll just go down to the bedroom. I’m not going to watch. I can’t watch.” Mom was scared that Gary could have me removed from the job—not fired from Hockey Night in Canada, but from being the host. Dad would try to reassure her. “I don’t think that’s right. I don’t think he can do that, because Ronnie’s not working for Gary Bettman, he’s working for CBC. And Gary Bettman doesn’t run the CBC.” Whenever they would ask me, I would say, “I can’t worry about that, Dad.” Mom continued to lose sleep over it. She worried about me being like her. She didn’t want me to storm off and quit my job the way she did when she felt disrespected. She knew that I had inherited her trait of challenging authority and feared it would come home to roost at some point in my career. Mom felt it was in our DNA to act too proud.
On June 2, 2010, I got into it again with Bettman. We were in Philadelphia for game three of the Stanley Cup final, the Flyers versus the Chicago Blackhawks. I planned to discuss franchise values. I had done my homework. Bloggers are incredible. Many are now experts on almost every facet of the game. From statistical analysis to labour law, you’ll find a blogger who keeps journalists honest. And as a result of the availability of information via social media, even casual viewers have a deep knowledge base.
I didn’t even want to do the Bettman interview. I was sick of beating my head against the wall. Why arm-wrestle with Gary in the middle of a great Stanley Cup final? Who needed it?
I elected to go ahead because I knew it was good TV. I was conflicted because I felt it was cheap of me to put him in that position.
I wanted to have a foundation for the interview, so I decided to focus on something Gary had said at his state-of-the-NHL news conference a few days earlier, on May 28. He said, “The franchise situation is actually stable. We are not now dealing with any owner giving back keys to any team.” I didn’t feel that was correct. I felt there were a number of owners turning back the keys, and I wanted to go through it with him and get him to admit there were problems. I wanted him to deal with the fact that the players, with their millions in escrow payments, were having to fund these trouble spots, and yet they had no say in how the business was run.
I prepared by talking to three key sources: Bob Goodenow, Rod Fort (he and I had spoken a million times, done a one-hour TV special and met for dinner in Ann Arbor) and Richard Rodier, who now works for the NHLPA, but at one time was Jim Balsillie’s lawyer. Balsillie, having tried to buy the Pittsburgh Penguins and Nashville Predators, had made an offer to buy the Phoenix Coyotes and move them to southern Ontario. The majority owner of the franchise, Jerry Moyes, accepted Balsillie’s offer and put the team into bankruptcy. The NHL responded by announcing that Moyes had been stripped of the authority to make decisions about the team. Rodier fought Bettman in bankruptcy court over the matter, so he had an understanding of the situation in Phoenix.
I also knew that Hurricanes owner Peter Karmanos wanted to sell half of the Hurricanes and according to Forbes magazine the value of that franchise was down 9 per cent from the year previously.
The entire empire of Dallas Stars owner Tom Hicks was in financial turmoil. It was rumoured that Bill Gallacher from Calgary was one of those waiting to pick up the team at a bargain price. Meanwhile, the major shareholder in the St. Louis Blues since 2006, a private equity firm called TowerBrook Capital, was talking about selling—in keeping with its plan to exit the investment after roughly five years. That meant that Dave Checketts, the managing partner despite owning only about 20 per cent of the team, was going to need to find a new investor. In March 2011, Checketts revealed that he’d raised capital in hopes of buying TowerBrook’s share of the Blues, but the two sides couldn’t agree on a price, so the franchise was for sale.
With all these teams in play, it didn’t appear as if the franchise situation was stable. So, during game three, Bettman and I had a ring-ding-a-dong dandy (an Ed Whalen expression) on-air debate, on Gary’s fifty-eighth birthday. He was badly sunburned from sitting in the sun without sunblock during his daughter’s graduatio
n ceremony at Cornell University, his alma mater. I started by singing “Happy Birthday” to him.
The interview began with me trying to establish the sale price of the Tampa Bay Lightning. The new owner, hedge fund manager Jeff Vinik, who also owned a minority stake in the Boston Red Sox, had agreed to a deal worth a total of $80 million to $120 million in cash and assumed debt.
Gary said the league didn’t usually publicize what franchises sell for, but he said the Lightning went for “far more than was reported” and that the previous owners, Oren Koules and Len Barrie, who had bought the franchise in 2008 for $200 million, “sold and they actually got money back.”
He started that “Ron, Ron, Ron” thing again when the subject of Dallas and Bill Gallacher came up. I asked whether the players’ escrow money had been subsidizing the team. He denied both allegations, but confirmed that Gallacher was hoping to buy the team over the summer. (As of the summer of 2011, the Stars had yet to be sold.)
We talked about St. Louis and Carolina, and he said, “We’ve had a great season, hockey has been terrific, these playoffs are great, we’re watching a wonderful game and you just want to tick off franchise after franchise? What inside of you compels you to want to go in that direction?”
I said I wasn’t trying to ruin the night, but that the same players who were giving us the great show were leaving money on the table, via the escrow, in case the league’s revenue projections fell short and player compensation exceeded 57 per cent of hockey-related revenues.