[ [link removed] ]Francesca Hong for Governor[ [link removed] ]Francesca Hong for Governor
Jack,
Happy draft day. One thing you might not know about me: I'm a huge Packers
fan.
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When people ask me what democratic socialism looks like, I point them to
Green Bay: the only community-owned, publicly-owned team in pro sports.
539,000 shareholders. A board that answers to fans, not a boss. No
billionaire owner. Proof that working people can run something better than
the billionaires can.
For the first time since 1986, we don't have a first-round pick. So
tonight, we get to sit back without fighting about who the Packers take.
Since we've got the night off, I want to talk about what's happening to
our team, because it's an allegory for what's happening to working people
in this country. Same villain, too: a small class of billionaires
rewriting the rules to squeeze everyone else.
Here's the story, in five parts:
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1. The hero.
The Packers are the American worker of pro sports. We played by the rules.
$579 million in savings. No debt. A foundation that has given away nearly
$30 million since 1986 and now reaches 63 of Wisconsin's 72 counties. No
owner embarrassing the team (cough, New York Jets, Dallas Cowboys). No
holding the city hostage for a new stadium (looking at you, Chicago and
Buffalo). No moving to a shinier market (ask St. Louis and Oakland). A
team that did it right (and did it without a billionaire's checkbook).
And all of it is under threat.
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2. The promise.
An old commissioner named Bert Bell said it best: what makes pro football
the best sport in the world isn't the money. It's that come Sunday, any
team can beat any other. A team from Green Bay — population 107,000 — can
beat a team from Denver owned by the richest family in America.
It isn't magic. It's by design. The salary cap. A draft that hands the
worst team the best pick. Revenue sharing that splits TV money evenly
among all 32 teams. These rules were written to keep the playing field
level, because a level playing field is more fun, more competitive, and
better for everyone who loves the game.
Sound familiar? That's the promise of America, too.
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3. The villain.
The other 31 owners have figured out how to break the rules. "Void years"
let them push real money into fake future seasons and keep their stars
locked up forever. The Philadelphia Eagles alone have $452 million stashed
in void years. They and the 49ers, using the same tricks, have represented
the NFC in five of the last nine Super Bowls. Last spring, Roger Goodell
himself questioned the "integrity" of the cap.
And when they can't break the rules fast enough, they cheat. Two weeks
ago, an NFL appeals panel ruled that the league itself "improperly"
invited owners to collude on holding down guaranteed contracts. The owners
beat the case on a technicality. No consequences. This is what
billionaires do: they find the loopholes, cheat when the loopholes aren't
enough, and then buy their way out of accountability.
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4. The cash grab.
Four years ago the Cincinnati Bengals broke a quarter-century holdout and
sold the naming rights to their stadium to pay for Joe Burrow's looming
contract extension. That was the warning sign. In August 2024, NFL owners
voted 31-1 to open the door to private equity, unlocking roughly $500
million in new cash per franchise. Thirty-one teams got that option. Guess
which one didn't.
Last month the Miami Dolphins sold one percent of their team for $125
million in a single afternoon. That’s nearly a quarter of the entire
reserve fund the Packers took twenty years to build. Our own CEO Ed Policy
calls us "an extreme anomaly." But actually, that was by design: In 1960,
the NFL wrote a rule into its own constitution (they literally call it the
Green Bay Rule!) making sure no other town could ever own a team the way
we do. They locked the door behind us. We've been the only ones inside
ever since.
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5. The bill comes to us.
So what happens to a team that can't tap Wall Street, can't sell a slice
to a billionaire, and can't cash in on private equity? The bill lands on
the fans.
Ticket prices are going up again — the 16th increase in 17 years. The
cheapest seat at Lambeau cost $54 in 2005; today it's $143, and a family
of four at one game is most of a paycheck. The Packers just sold the
naming rights to Titletown's football field. Ed Policy warns we're "soon
to be the only stadium without naming rights." This math ends, eventually,
with a corporation's name on Lambeau Field. And we all know it.
That's the trap. A league where billionaire-owned franchises hoard stars
through cash tricks. Where the cap is an accounting exercise. Where the
one team actually owned by working people has to charge working people
more just to stay in the conversation.
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And folks, this is Wisconsin. We were told that if we worked hard and kept
our heads down, a little piece of the American dream could be ours. But an
unelected class of billionaires keeps rewriting the rules in ways that
make our lives less stable and stack the deck for the people who already
have everything.
As a fan, I hope the NFL enforces its own salary cap. But I can change the
rules of the game here in Wisconsin, because that's what governors do:
level the playing field for everyone who lives here. That's why I'm
running. Because there shouldn't be one set of rules for the rich and
powerful, and another for the rest of us.
Something to think about as you watch the draft tonight.
[ [link removed] ]And if you're feeling generous, chip in $5.20 for our 52nd overall
pick.
[ [link removed] ]Donate $5 ››
Go Pack!
- Fran
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