Of all the things that Tim Leiweke promised when he blew into town not so long ago, the one that seemed in the bag—the one that even the most skeptical Toronto sports fan could envision happening with relative ease—was a successful makeover of Toronto FC.
And now that his remaining time in Toronto as the president of Maple Leaf Sports and Entertainment comes with a deadline of June 30, 2015, or sooner, there are suddenly plenty of questions about even that after TFC’s “bloody big mess” over the weekend.
In fine Toronto tradition, TFC won the off-season but have been less impressive once they start keeping score. In case you missed it: On Friday the club’s rookie GM called out (indirectly) the inexperienced coach, who fired back in kind after the club folded 3–0 at home on Saturday, further clouding an increasingly murky playoff picture.
Sunday the coach—Ryan Nelsen—was fired, which was nearly over-shadowed by reports the club was on the verge of selling the contract of Jermain Defoe, it’s highest-profile player.
This is not how this all was supposed to work.
Fixing TFC was supposed to be Leiweke’s appetizer—something he could pull off in his spare time while turning the Leafs into a Stanley Cup contender and the Raptors into a destination NBA franchise. It’s possible that by the time Leiweke’s whirlwind tour north of the border wraps up he won’t even have TFC’s success to pad his resumé.
As always the club remains mired in competitive limbo but is now likely a money loser to boot.
Of all MLSE’s properties TFC is a relative minnow, although it represents a remarkable return on investment given the expansion fee in 2005 was $10 million USD (along with $18 million CDN to build BMO Field).
Industry estimates suggest it could be spun off for about $100 million today, but its financial picture isn’t quite as rosy as it used to be. When the team was simply not very good (having never made the playoffs in seven seasons and counting) but cheap, its operating profit was in the $7-million range.
Now that it’s not very good—the club has won just three times in its last 13 games, precipitating the sacking of Nelsen Sunday morning—one industry source suggested it’s going to lose upwards of $13 million this season.
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And while the Reds placated their fan base by resisting offers to sell striker Defoe back to Queens Park Rangers of the EPL for a reported $11-million transfer fee, it seems unlikely that Defoe—the focus of TFC’s ubiquitous “Bloody Big Deal” marketing campaign—will spend more than one injury-plagued season with the club, as all expectations are he will be sold off in January.
Will TFC and GM Tim Bezbatchenko have the green light then to spend big on another designated player while his Godfather, Leiweke, is on his way out the door?
It will be fascinating to watch whether MLSE shrinks from Leiweke’s vision or doubles down. The hard dollars are already spent as he convinced the MLSE owners to plow $100 million into a stadium renovation that will expand BMO to 30,000 seats for soccer. It would seem a looming white elephant unless TFC can deliver an on-field product that excites the casual soccer fan.
Again, this all seemed doable in the early days of Leiweke.
His willingness to beat the drum for soccer was a blessing in a market where the media and the money too often believes the public imagination doesn’t extend past the Leafs and the NHL.
Leiweke provided a big tent for everything else, but soccer especially. His track record with the two-time MLS champion Los Angeles Galaxy spoke volumes. But far more important that any of those advantages was that when it came to TFC, he could spend MLSE’s money, and lots of it.
Leiweke promised big things when it came to hockey and basketball, but there was a reason he spoke about “culture change” until it became a near cliché: The salary caps in the NHL and the NBA mean that the only way to really throw money around is off the ice and off the court, which is why the Leafs’ big off-season news was hiring Brendan Shanahan, the club’s rookie president, and spending some money on analytics.
Meanwhile it could very well be that Leiweke’s lasting Raptors legacy will be a $30-million practice facility facing Lake Ontario on the CNE grounds. It’s great, but not exactly on par with getting Kevin Durant to come to Toronto as a free agent—the longest of long shots, but an idea that somehow seemed plausible with Leiweke doing the big dreaming.
But TFC was different. It’s a hybrid league, where most of the roster is made up of journeymen on the way up or down soccer’s global supply chain, dividing up about $3 million in payroll. But the big card Leiweke had to play was with his designated players—the three roster spots that lie outside the team salary cap.
An ambitious incoming president trying to make a splash could do some damage with that, and Leiweke did, signing European-based stalwarts Michael Bradley and Defoe, and investment of $100 million.
Back before the Leafs imploded and the Raptors made their lucky playoff run (this was a team that was trying to trade Kyle Lowry, remember) getting TFC right was Leiweke’s first hard evidence that he was more than talk.
“Why can’t we be great?” he implored as Bradley and Defoe were unveiled.
Being there for the announcement at Real Sports was one of my more memorable moments in nearly 20 years covering Toronto’s mostly moribund sports scene. It felt like the beginning of something new. It was a rare moment when MLSE behaved like the company that this city deserved, where they were repurposing their fans’ hard-earned money into something tangible, something that looked like winning.
Unfortunately, for all the excited possibilities, realistically there couldn’t be any carryover to the other franchises in the MLSE portfolio. Culture change only goes so far. The option to airlift in elite, high-priced talent from other, superior leagues simply doesn’t exist in the NBA or the NHL.
Fixing those clubs will take time.
That’s what has become apparent as Leiweke’s run in Toronto comes to an end even after it barely got started.
And now his “Bloody Big Deal”—the one giant swipe at being great—appears to have missed the target.
Leiweke said “follow me” in the loudest possible voice. The problem in any game of follow-the-leader is there is never any guarantee where he’s taking you.