The $2.4 Billion Homeless Shelter

In May, Miami New Times writer Tim Elfrink opened his commentary about the soon-to-open BRAND SPANKING NEW MIAMI MARLINS STADIUM! with the following eloquent perspective:

Like a festering, silver-plated pustule, a grotesquely huge can opener, or just an obscene ode to wasted cash, the new Florida Marlins stadium is rising above Miami's skyline. Whether you're driving down a tree-shaded block in Little Havana or cruising the Dolphin Expressway to South Beach, there it is: a $515 million money sucker that is probably the worst deal for taxpayers of any stadium in America.

In case you're a bit fuzzy (or can't find your copy of a Thesaurus to look up the numerous beautifully crafted $500 metaphors), Elfrink - like a large portion of the southeast Florida population that (a) hates paying more taxes in a depressed economy, (b) despises Miami-Dade politicians for playing footsie with über-rich Marlins owner Jeffrey Loria, and (c) ignores the Marlins when they're World Series champion caliber (and are staying away in droves this year - the Fighting Fish are last in Major League Baseball, averaging just over 17,500 a game) - is still a bit perturbed about the entire ethically-questionable means that the stadium was approved and the funding achieved.

Why is it such a raw deal? Elfrink points out the following:

1: Other cities have extracted far more funds from their teams to build a new park than Miami, where Loria is fronting just under 30 percent of the $515 million cost. Compare this to St. Louis, where the Cardinals and private investors eventually covered 88 percent of financing for the new Busch Stadium, San Diego (43 percent privately financed), or Detroit (37 percent private).

(And, he notes, while Washington, D.C., footed the entire $611 million bill for the new Nationals Park, D.C. gets millions in rent from the team in return and shares revenue generated by the stadium ... while with the Marlins, the city and county get almost none of the new ballpark revenue.)

2: Miami-Dade County officials "were so incompetent in negotiating the project that they stuck taxpayers with interest rates that would have made a mid-housing-bubble speculator gasp," he noted. By the time the bonds are paid off in 40 years, that $515 million will have ballooned into $2.4 billion ... while the team pays no taxes on the land.

This is in addition to the fiscal backscratching some of the politicos in charge received. Former county commission chairman Bruno Barreiro, whose district included Little Havana and the site for the new park, took almost $40,000 in donations in 2008 - one in every six dollars of his total take - from firms with an interest in bidding on the project. Barreiro's colleague Joe Martinez was the key vote to hire (without normal bidding) a group called Hunt/Moss to oversee construction; in the year before the vote, Martinez took $500 checks (the maximum amount individuals can give) from a litany of Moss & Associates' top execs, including three vice presidents and the legal counsel. Miami-Dade Mayor Carlos Alvarez, a strong supporter of the new stadium, received $50,000 in donations from Loria and Marlins president David Samson to keep him in office during a recent recall campaign; Hunt/Moss added $5,000, and a laundry list of other stadium builders gave more than $73,000.

That last part didn't work; Alvarez was recalled in March (by a whopping 88 percent of Miami-Dade voters who went to the ballot box!), in large part because of his approval of the ballpark - a deal that essentially puts low-income taxpayers on the hook for the cost of it, at the same time county services were threatening to be cut, at the same time he pushed through a budget that raised property taxes, and at the same same time he was calling for a five percent across-the-board cut in pay for most county workers but a 15 percent increase in the salaries of his own staff.

(That's a lot of "same time" moments in one person's life cycle.)

Morally corrupt politicians. Questionable campaign donations. Greedy billionaire ownership. A shaky construction bid process. Sounds pretty pathetic, huh?

Well, let's brighten that skyline a bit. Maybe there's a way that Miami-Dade and Little Havana can turn this to their collective advantage.

In researching how best to address the homeless issue in Sarasota, legal consultant Michael Barfield discovered an obscure state law. Florida State Statute 288.1166 states publicly funded professional sports facilities "shall be designated as a shelter site for the homeless."

While he was not researching the issue to help Miami residents - he was looking into Sarasota options, which (as it turns out) includes the Baltimore Orioles' spring training stadium - it's not too difficult to draw a bright line and cross-apply the idea to other tax-funded stadium. Like the new Marlins home.

"My initial reaction: I laughed," he said in a Sarasota Observer news story of the homeless shelter prospect. "But after thinking about it more, it made sense. (Sarasota's Ed Smith Stadium) has showers, food preparation areas, and it’s only used a few weeks out of the year."

The statute was part of the rule written as a result of local governments using state funds designed specifically to build stadiums to keep spring-training baseball in Florida.

Now, this doesn't guarantee the new 37,000-seat ballpark - which will include really cool (and expensive) amenities like a retractable roof and outfield glass panels, an aquatic home plate backstop, a swimming pool, and customized artwork - will be used as a homeless shelter. Odds are, the courts would get involved, or the Florida legislature. And since this is Florida, no one really knows how either of these entities think (or if they think) at times.

But I, for one, think it's an amazing idea. After all, the new ballpark residents would help boost the team's attendance, giving Loria a chance to "sell out" the ballpark in an entirely different way: one that actually scores PR points with the public.