Despite the massive price tag, Rogers will find a way to profit handsomely from their investment, streaming hockey 24/7 to screens big and small. And fans will continue to watch because it's there, doing what professional sport has always done—ease the unease of everyday life by adding some manufactured excitement.
A backlash, however, is coming. Tired of ponying up to pay corporations and player salaries, fed up with a digitally sanitized sporting experience, sports fans are ready for something different.
The average salary for an NHL player is $2.5 million a year. Major league ball players take home an average of $3.3 million — NBA stars an eye-popping $5.15 million. The average social worker’s salary, someone making a daily difference in children’s lives—just $47,000 or $0.047 million.
Meanwhile, Roger's $5.2 billion for NHL rights is a drop in the bucket compared to the $28 billion paid by Fox, CBS and NBC to broadcast NFL games for nine years. These big money contracts equal boatloads of cash for the team owners and players. With the Rogers deal, NHL teams are due to receive an influx of new funding, increasing the league salary cap and potentially driving up the average player salary well over $3 million by 2018.
Leaving the fans to pay for it. Ticket prices for the big sporting events are already out of reach for most families. Taking a family of four to a Leafs or Raptors game will set you back close to $500 for a decent experience. Tickets to pro events are now the domain of the wealthy and becoming a rare treat the average fan. Choose to boycott the live games and you'll still get zinged on the cable bill. Rogers already plans an increase the fees for providers to carry their hockey broadcasting channels.
Feeling the pressure, broadcasters will amp up the viewing experience with helmet cams, animated replays, more stats and more ads in your face. The only way I can stand to watch golf now is to record it on PVR and zoom through the endless parade of commercials required to pay Tiger Wood's prize money. The digital flash the networks trot out to "bring the fan closer to the game" will dazzle the senses in the short term until the novelty begins to wear off, leaving viewers with a hollow feeling and the realization that the gulf between them and the action has grown even wider.
The players, having signed lucrative contracts that pay regardless of their performance, grow more apathetic by the season. Broadcasters love to state that it's the "live" element of sports that keep viewers coming back. Live, but not real. Professional sports is about as real as reality TV. Millionaire athletes with no real risk, playing for the glory of a fabricated championship. Where's the authentic desperation, the true risk and reward? If Lebron doesn't win the title this year, he's still going to wake up in his palatial home, still have the money to feed his kids. He may feel the sting of losing, but he's not going to FEEL it. There's no real loss. He hasn't lost anything except for a game and a chip off his ego.
I like watching sports. I enjoy watching the top athletes compete against their counterparts and I'll pay up to see someone under pressure leave it all out on the floor to discover their personal best. But, how much should someone be paid yearly to do that? $100,000? Even that still feels like too much, compared to the efforts of an inspired grade school teacher. But, at least it’s in the realm of somewhat acceptable.
There's dissension in the districts. Grumbling about overpaid princes grows a little stronger with each outlandish contract announcement. To all those voices, I propose something different — underground leagues, a Fight Club of sports, if you will. Where men and women play for meaningful stakes, where winners get the pot and the losers get nothing. Played in dingy gyms, sour smelling community rinks and beat up patches of turf. No mascots, no jumbo scoreboards, no Haagen Daz bars and $12 beers.
Where a fighting penalty means the risk of losing the game and not getting paid. Where there's sweat, tears or blood that could land on your clothes because you’re so close to the action. Real people, with day jobs to help make ends meet, with bills to pay and mouths to feed, who have nothing but talent and skill and the will to use it to make some extra cash in order to make things a little easier for them and their families. Real desperation. Real desire. And devoted fans, willing to pay to support it, who know the back stories, who understand that there are stakes and a loss is a real loss.
That’s what is missing. See the pampered stars or attend a secret game that means something to the athletes playing it? Personally, I’ll take the latter and I don’t think I’m alone. A savvy promoter somewhere is already sniffing the opportunity. Pro sports has become too big for its britches and it’s ready to be taken down. — Keir Overton
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