David Hoppe

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:: Not a great sports town

Indy's creation myth

By David Hoppe

Every place has an origin story, a folk tale that's handed down from one generation to the next about how things got started. Indianapolis is no exception.

The Indianapolis story goes something like this: Once upon a time, back in the 1970s, a bunch of rising young Indianapolis business executives discovered they had one thing in common - they were all unhappy living in a town other people called "Indian-no-place."

When these young executives looked in the mirror each morning and straightened their ties, they saw a bunch of smart, ambitious guys staring back. These were not the faces of men who made their living in a place where it was said the sidewalks were rolled up each night at 5:00 p.m. No!

The young executives met regularly to drown their sorrows and brainstorm about transforming Indianapolis. They agreed they needed a hook. It had to be an image or theme their fellow townsfolk could understand and rally around.

No one knows for sure who got the idea first. But one day those young executives looked into one another's eyes with the certain knowledge that they had found it: Indianapolis would be Amateur Sports Capital of the World.

When Indianapolis succeeded in attracting the Pan Am Games in 1987, it looked as if this strategy paid off. Not only was the city about to host a significant international event, the sports theme helped to reinvigorate downtown investment and construction.

Those young business executives drifted into middle age, content with the knowledge that Indianapolis wasn't no-place any more.

But a couple of things happened on our way to becoming a sports capital. The first was that we let the success of a marketing strategy persuade us Indianapolis was actually a great sports town, full of people with an insatiable appetite for games.

We also (very quietly) dropped the amateur part of the equation.

But people here don't care more about sports than they do anywhere else. What we really like is spectacle. The Pan Am Games was a spectacle. Apart from the occasional Final Four tournament, most amateur athletics never rise to that level. So, while being an amateur sports capital might be fun for the athletes, their families and the media, it's not generally a huge deal for the city. Athletes come here for Olympic-class track and swimming trials, for example, and hardly anyone notices.

The other thing we go for is celebrity. With the exception of a rare bird like Michael Phelps, few amateur athletes qualify. For this, you need professional sports. With its pro men's and women's basketball and football franchises, annual tennis tournament, periodic professional golf events and, of course, motor racing, Indianapolis has invested far more in the pros than it ever did in amateur athletics.

This has been great for local media hacks who, understandably, love their big time beats. They have tirelessly promoted the idea of Indy as a great sports town, and the sports capital strategy as a brilliant stroke. But there's more self-serving enthusiasm than substance in these claims.

Exhibit A is the Pacers. Hoosiers supposedly can't get enough basketball. But the Pacers are one of the most poorly attended teams in the NBA. Local media keeps saying this is because a spell of player thuggishness turned off the team's mythically wholesome fan base. But if that spell had coincided with a team capable of playing deep into the play-offs, fans would doubtless have embraced the villains as lovable rascals.

The same holds true for the Colts. Before the Peyton Manning era, good seats in the Dome were always available. When Manning finally hangs it up, we'll see what happens. Local sports pundits like to say the Super Bowl champs turned Indy into a "football town." Wrong. Like any town, Indy is distracted by a winner.

Last week, Pacers owner Herb Simon told the <I>Indianapolis Star</I> his family can't afford to keep the Pacers going without financial help. The team, in this supposedly great sports town, has evidently lost $200 million since 1983. They want someone - probably you and me - to pick up the $15 million annual tab for their use of Conseco Fieldhouse.

This is when people start saying things like, "To be a major league city, you have to have major league teams." The truth is, to be major league you have to have a bunch of major corporate headquarters in your city. Neither the Pacers' trip to the NBA Finals in 2000, nor the Colts Super Bowl win in 2006 netted us so much as one Fortune 500 company.

Dear CIB: You want to be major league? Try fixing the streets, the schools and public safety. Make Indianapolis known as the best-run town its size in America. I'm sure the old guys who dreamt up the sports strategy would have no objections. All they wanted was a new story to tell.