“Brooklyn Wars” excerpt: How the Nets arena changed Brooklyn

Hey, everybody, my new book The Brooklyn Wars is out today! (Yes, I know I said tomorrow, but I figured I’d give you all a chance to order it before tonight’s presidential debate numbs your mental capacities beyond the ability to read.) It’s a look at the ongoing transformation of Brooklyn, something that is not only inseparable from many of the issues we discuss here — public subsidies, skewed economic and political power, dunderheaded elected officials — but that involves two specific sports venue projects: There’s a long chapter on the Brooklyn Nets arena that spawned a boroughwide debate about development and eminent domain; and in the Coney Island chapter, the Brooklyn Cyclones stadium turns out to have been surprisingly (to me as well) pivotal to the reinvention of that famed beachfront neighborhood.

You’ll be seeing book excerpts popping up this week on a couple of major news websites, but I’ve saved a good bit just for Field of Schemes readers: a section on the aftermath of the construction of the Nets’ Barclays Center and the surrounding Atlantic Yards/Pacific Park development, and what it did for — and to — the existing neighborhood. Enjoy, and if you’d like to read more, please buy the book!


On September 28, 2012, the Barclays Center arena opened its doors for the first time, for a concert by co-owner Jay-Z. Outside, concertgoers mingled with a few dozen protestors and various onlookers, including a Columbia University class on urban design. Inside, ticket buyers ogled the black-and-grey color scheme and three layers of luxury suites — two forming a vertical wall between the lower and upper decks, the other ensconced at floor level and dubbed “the Vault,” with a half-million-a-year price tag — while high-definition video boards flashed a pre-show message of gratitude: “Thank You Bruce Ratner.”

The building itself by then looked nothing like architect Frank Gehry’s original designs. The odd angles were gone, replaced by a perforated rust-colored steel façade designed by fill-in architects SHoP. (To prevent the rust from dripping on passersby on rainy days, the steel was “pre-weathered” in Indiana before installation; it ended up staining the sidewalks below with orange splotches regardless.) Its size had been trimmed as well, as part of a “value engineering” to cut costs during Ratner’s bond crisis, leading to a shape that fit fine for basketball, but not hockey, a condition that would lead to many obstructed views when Islanders owner Charles Wang chose to move his team in from Long Island anyway in 2015. A promised jogging path and public ice skating rink on its roof, floated as public benefits of the project, had faded away as well, replaced by a plain roof with the logo of naming-rights sponsor Barclays Bank on it, the better to be viewed from airplanes on the approach into La Guardia.

On event nights, the blocks around the arena were utterly transformed, as the surrounding streets swelled with traffic and the subways disgorged thousands of arriving fans wearing Nets shirts, Islanders jerseys, or rainbow-colored Barnum & Bailey circus hats, then reabsorbed them three hours later. (The arena developers had purposely built little parking to discourage car use; as Forest City Ratner senior vice president Jane Marshall explained at one community meeting during the planning process, “There’s a healthy fear that’s already there in potential attendees, and we’d like to encourage that.”)

For a sports arena, though, that’s a minority of the time. In its initial year, the Barclays Center was open for business about 200 nights, which is at the high end for most arenas. The other 165 days a year, plus most mornings and afternoons, it sat like a great beached robot whale at the intersection of Atlantic and Flatbush. An oblong video board tucked beneath its “oculus” — a kind of metal awning with a large hole in the middle, which was just as useful for protecting waiting fans from weather as it sounds — flashed promotions for upcoming events and for various building sponsors: the Daily News App, GEICO, Starbucks, Calvin Klein, Zappos, Bud Light. (Giant animated beer bottles hovering over Flatbush Avenue would normally require special city permission, but the state’s control of the site meant it could trump city billboard laws.)

The surrounding blocks, meanwhile, were an odd mix of the brand new and the remarkably unchanged. Across Flatbush from the new arena, a row of small shops had been converted into outlets of the Shake Shack upscale fast-food chain and the True Religion boutique clothing chain; other storefronts remained vacant, awaiting more revitalized uses. Across Pacific Street to the north, a PC Richard electronics store — itself put in place in the 1990s after a controversial deal to partially relocate a community garden that had been planted there during the previous decade, when the site was an underused parking lot — was fighting the state’s attempts to displace it via eminent domain for an office tower of unknown height. To the south, the former Triangle sporting goods store — named for the shape of its building, isolated on a tiny block bounded by Flatbush, 5th Avenue, and Dean Street — had been sold after ninety-six years in business for $4.1 million to a pair of real estate investors, but remained empty three years later, a wraparound cellphone ad covering its vacant windows.

South again across Dean, the owners of a Patsy’s pizzeria — a newly opened branch of the original East Harlem fixture that claims to be the first pizza place in the city to sell single slices — explained that the arena had been a great boon to their business, but they’d come to grab a slice of the greater Park Slope market as well. “Building a restaurant anywhere, if you have a quality product, you could be a back alley and people will come to you,” said Joe Juliano. “But it could take two-three years — and I don’t have two-three years to pay rent. So over here we have a captive audience across the street, and three nights a week we have the games. That really helps while you’re trying to pay the bills.” Not that capturing an arena audience that only arrives in three-hour bursts is easy, he explained: “You have 100 seats, they all want to be fed in one hour. Our pizza only takes a minute and a half to cook — that helps.” His partner, the Bensonhurst-born Anton Reja, put down his cigar to chime in: “Between this one, the corner, what’s happening over there, you got six thousand families coming into the neighborhood. But this is not working for everybody. People who are coming to see the game but going to eat, they don’t want to go four blocks away. They want to go fast.”

In fact, said Reja, while the arena was a nice bonus, his bottom line was reliant less on spillover from the arena than from the growing aura of Brooklyn as a whole. “I get a lot of locals, and then I get a lot of people who come in from Long Island, and from lots of different countries,” he said. “One night, in my restaurant, I had five tables, five different countries: New Zealand, Australia, France, Mexico. It was unbelievable. They came because of Patsy’s, maybe go to the games. And they’re just coming to see Brooklyn. Just coming to see Brooklyn!”

One block to the east, on a once-residential block of Dean Street now dominated by a police station, a fire station, and the arena’s hulking backside, the owners of Dubai Mini-Mart were finding themselves to be somewhat less of a destination. “The stadium went up, families moved out,” said Abdul Ibrahim, one of a group of cousins who opened the small grocery store in around 2005. Ibrahim, who grew up in part with his mother in Cleveland, in part with his father in East New York, said his family chose the site after the city renovated a small park nearby, building baseball and soccer fields that drew families to the block.

His main clientele, he related, still came from these families, plus police and firefighters at stations on the block, as well as workers at the arena and those erecting the pair of apartment towers that were being squeezed in on two of the arena’s sides. But even they couldn’t provide the same customer base as the now-vanished full-time residents. “Now groceries stand on the shelf. People just buy drinks sometimes,” said Ibrahim. “It’s not like when the neighborhood was a neighborhood.”

Smack up against the arena’s southern side, a bright-red 32-story tower was close to being finished, after years in the works; it had been held up when the contractors chosen to run Ratner’s new “modular” construction plant quit in a huff, saying there was no way to operate it without losing money hand over fist. (The modular technique, in which components of the building would be assembled off-site and then stacked like Legos, raised concerns about whether the project’s promised 17,000 construction jobs would ever materialize.) A couple of blocks to the east, a pair of housing towers — rebranded “Pacific Park, Brooklyn’s newest neighborhood” to avoid the taint of the Atlantic Yards name — were playing rapid catch-up, having broken ground with the aid of Chinese investors, attracted in part after Ratner sought financing via the federal government’s “EB-5” program, which doles out a fast track to green cards for foreign investors who provide low-interest loans to American development projects.

Once those buildings opened, Ibrahim would no doubt see an influx of new customers, but his landlord had warned him not to expect to be around to see much of it. “He told us he’s not going to renew our lease,” said Ibrahim. “We got to do the next four years, and then he’s going to push us out.”

Around the corner, the Slope Food Market had already shut down, shuttering after seventeen years on the spot. Its owner, who gave his name only as Khalid, had packed up and started over with a small luncheonette in the Department of Motor Vehicles building in Coney Island. “I took the store for three years, and the rent started going up high — five hundred dollars escalation every year,” he said there, while ringing up customers. An employee accidentally sold cigarettes to a minor, causing him to lose his Lotto and cigarette licenses for six months; after more losses and more rent increases, he chose to shut down. As for the arena, he said, its impact was almost unnoticeable: “Barclays Center, I tell you the truth, it has an advantage and a disadvantage. It improved the area, and made it look high-class. But as far as business impact, I would say it did not really make a big difference, because the only people we used to get from the Barclays Center were the employees coming into the deli to buy hot sandwiches.” The expansion of the Atlantic Avenue train station to bring more people to the arena, meanwhile, had meant fewer riders disembarking at the next stop, Bergen Street, which happened to be in front of his store. “We lost all the people coming into it. We didn’t see any people coming from the train.”

Two blocks away, the easternmost outpost of Pacific Park, a seventeen-story condo tower sheathed in grey fake brick, was going up on a double-sized superblock at the corner of Vanderbilt and Atlantic Avenues. Vanderbilt, long the main shopping drag of Prospect Heights, was now jammed tightly with new stores and restaurants, including Ample Hills, a homemade ice cream parlor that had soon expanded throughout the borough, and Empire Mayonnaise, an artisanal mayonnaise store that attracted media attention for its $8 jars of white truffle mayonnaise, though it had few visible walk-in clients. After Saturday Night Live lampooned them in a sketch about gentrifying Brooklyn, co-owner Elizabeth Valleau told Good magazine: “We got a whole bunch of new customers because of that skit, so we’re very happy about it.”

Valleau, who said the opening of the arena “had little to no effect on our business” — the location, she explained, had been selected mostly because it was near to her and her business partner’s homes — was somewhat less happy about being painted as a harbinger of neighborhood doom. “People are trying to politicize us, but ultimately we’re just a couple folks from the neighborhood who have a condiment business and we’re making it in the neighborhood instead of in a big warehouse out in New Jersey,” she told Good. Gentrification, she continued, had changed in Brooklyn in recent years, from being “more about new families and small businesses that actually cared about growing a future with the neighborhoods they moved into. [But now] we have these machine-style corporations eating up real estate and literally pushing people out of their homes and businesses the second a new community garden or cupcake shop appears.” Some change was inevitable, she indicated, but the city could be doing more to mitigate the impact. “What it is, is depressing.”

In a subsequent email interview, Valleau reiterated that her store should be seen as “a part of the community that could be pushed out by further gentrification, as opposed to a driver of it” — even at $8 a jar, apparently, mayonnaise sales could only pay so much in rents. (In fact, the storefront eventually closed in summer 2016, though its owners planned to relocate their wholesale mayonnaise business elsewhere.) “I understand how our business could seem frivolous from the outside, but that’s only if the viewer doesn’t realize that we manufacture every jar that we sell worldwide in a 300-square-foot space. There is nothing fancy happening here whatsoever.”

It was the typical New Brooklyn quandary: The minute you arrived in a new neighborhood, it was time to start looking over your shoulder for who was coming after you. Back at the mini-mart, Ibrahim noted that the process had taken a toll on his upstairs neighbors as well: In the past decade, his building’s landlord had already raised apartment rents from $900 a month to $3500 a month. “I’m not mad at him, because development is always good,” he insisted. “But I just feel bad because of the families that we lose. The people that live in the neighborhood, kids, that’s what I’m used to growing up. Not all these big skyrises that could have stayed in the city. But I guess you can never stop change.”

His business partner Ahmed Khtri was more cynical. “To run a business and establish a business, have it in a poor neighborhood,” he advised. “More secure, reliable people. You have it in a rich neighborhood, it comes out greed, and people who love money more than humanity.”

“If they want people to move out of the city, they should make a place for them,” said Ibrahim. “New New York, for the middle class and the broke.”

Print and electronic copies of The Brooklyn Wars (Second System Press, 2016) are available for purchase from brooklynwars.com.

Nevada governor to call October special session on handing $750m to Raiders, Adelson

If there was any doubt about whether Nevada Gov. Brian Sandoval was going to call a special session of the state legislature to discuss $750 million in subsidies for an Oakland Raiders stadium in Las Vegas after his hand-picked task force recommended spending the dough, that was dispelled yesterday when Sandoval said this:

“I am convinced that, given the circumstances and timing with regard to public safety, the convention center, and the NFL, there is an opportunity to significantly improve the tourism infrastructure of Southern Nevada — already the best in the world,” Sandoval said.

“Based on the current environment, I believe a special session of the Legislature is warranted and should be called as soon as can be practicably accomplished,” he said.

The session is likely to start sometime between October 7 and October 13, which will give the Clark and Washoe county commissions time to fill five vacant seats in the legislature before then. You have to figure Sandoval has taken the temperature of the legislature and figures the stadium plan has at least a decent chance of passage, or he wouldn’t be doing this, but we’ll see once deliberations start. A stadium bill would need at least two-thirds approval, remember, since it would involve a hotel tax hike; failing that, a simple majority vote could kick it to the seven-member Clark County Commission, which would need five votes to pass it.

If it seems incredible to you that Nevada is on the verge of approving the largest NFL stadium subsidy in history to benefit a billionaire developer and the owner of a team that hasn’t had a winning record in 14 years, yeah, me too. At this point, I’m mostly curious to see whether the legislature spends any time at all debating the niceties of a stadium lease — who would pay for future maintenance, operations, and upgrade costs, and would Mark Davis be able to get out of his lease and move again (or threaten to) anytime soon? Not holding my breath given how the political discourse has gone so far, but there’s always hope.

Court rules St. Louis Rams PSL contracts still valid, could cost Kroenke $150m+ in payouts (UPDATE: probably not that much)

Well, ain’t that a kick in the head:

A federal judge in St. Louis ruled Wednesday that the Rams must refund deposits to some fans who purchased personal seat licenses during the franchise’s two decades in that city and offer others the opportunity to buy season tickets to games in Los Angeles.

I was dimly aware that St. Louis Rams PSL holders were suing over the season-ticket rights they’d purchased in perpetuity suddenly being worth nothing since there were no St. Louis Rams season tickets to buy anymore (see my brief note here), but I never thought they’d actually win. Nor, presumably, did Rams owner Stan Kroenke, because he is now seriously hosed, to a degree that we’ll attempt to figure out in a second.

First, a primer on PSLs: Initially created as a bonus for fans who bought inaugural Charlotte Hornets season tickets (not only do you get the tickets, but if you don’t want them anymore you can sell your spot on line to someone who does!), they quickly turned into a lucrative way for team owners to raise cash: Instead of first-come-first-serve tickets, offer fans the chance to buy the right to first dibs, with the carrot that they can then re-sell that right down the road to recoup at least some of what they laid out. In some cases with popular teams in cities with lots of fans with money to burn, it’s been lucrative indeed: The San Francisco 49ers managed to bring in more than $500 million from their PSL sales, which is a sizable chunk of change. And Kroenke has been hoping for similar revenue from PSL sales to help pay for his new $2.5-billion-ish stadium in L.A., though he can’t start selling them until next February as part of his relocation deal with the NFL.

So how much will this court decision, assuming it holds up on appeal, cost Kroenke? Of the 46,000 Rams PSL holders, there were two classes being represented — those whose PSLs were initially bought through a broker and those whose PSLs were bought directly from the team — and thanks to differences in the two contracts (whee lawyers!), each group now gets a slightly windfall: Broker purchasers get a refund of their PSL “deposit” (the judge declined to define what that means for now), while direct buyers get to actually transfer their PSL rights to the Rams’ new stadium. And while that may not sound so great — do any St. Louis Rams fans really want to fly to L.A. to see their former team play? — remember, the whole point of PSL rights is that they’re transferrable, so this is now a hugely valuable asset that they can sell, and more important, that Kroenke now can’t.

How much actual money would that cost Kroenke? Now we’re deep into speculation, since we don’t know how many direct vs. broker buyers there were, nor how much Kroenke was planning on selling L.A. PSLs for. Deadspin reported that the ruling will “likely cost the team millions of dollars in returned deposits and foregone profit,” but that’s almost certainly way too low: If there are 23,000 direct buyers and 23,000 broker buyers, say, then refunding 23,000 fans for their St. Louis purchases at $250 each would cost $5 million, while handing over free L.A. PSLs to another 23,000 fans could cost — let’s see, it’s a 70,000-seat stadium, so if Kroenke was shooting for $500 million in PSL sales, then scrapping 23,000 of those would lose him … $160 million, something like that, depending on which seats the judge says he has to set aside for St. Louis PSL holders?

It’s hardly a deal-breaker when you’re spending over $2 billion on a new facility, sure, but still, unexpected nine-digit losses are never fun. However all this turns out, it’s likely to be at least a moderate-sized headache for Kroenke and his accountants, as well as a cautionary tale for both teams writing up PSL contracts and fans buying them: Read the damn fine print, because it could end up being worth a hell of a lot of money.

UPDATES: As a couple of commenters have pointed out, the cost to Kroenke probably won’t be as much as I’d guesstimated: First off, more than 90% of the PSLs were sold by the broker, not the Rams, so that pushes most of the PSL holders into the less-lucrative “you get your deposit back” category. Second, the St. Louis PSLs were set to expire after the 2024 season (the Rams lawyers did something smart, anyway), so even for the L.A. PSLs Kroenke has to now pull off the market, he’ll get to resell them again in a few years. So we’re down in the $15-25 million cost range for Kroenke, which while it’s going to sting, is more of a rounding error for a guy playing in this spending stratosphere.

Utah Jazz spending $23m in tax breaks on really big sign reading “PIZZA,” apparently

The owners of the Utah Jazz, as you may recall, are launching a $125 million renovation of their privately owned arena with the help of $23 million in tax kickback subsidies that were approved with no public debate and for no damn reason (Salt Lake City got exactly nothing in exchange for its money), and now they’re releasing their first renderings of what they’ll be spending their cash on, and for some reason the first image is this: screen-shot-2016-09-22-at-7-36-05-amThat’s a whole lotta pizza concession stand! And it tells you that it’s selling pizza! And it’s sorta shaped like a pizza? And the guys making the pizza are definitely wearing chef’s hats, because you can’t put a price on that.

There are other photos in the Deseret News’ slideshow, and you know, the pizza one might actually be the most impressive. Jazz owner Gail Miller may be good at getting public subsidies in exchange for nothing, but she has some work to do on coming up with shiny vaportecture renderings to make taxpayers think they’re getting something for their money.

Oakland offered $167m for Coliseum land, rejects bid because Raiders still might want it

Speaking of selling stadiums, turns out somebody does want to buy the Oakland Coliseum, so long as it comes with all the land that it (and the neighboring Oracle Arena) sits on:

A group of investors with ties to NFL Hall of Famer Ronnie Lott is offering to purchase the Coliseum land with the hopes of keeping the Raiders in Oakland, according to a letter the group’s attorney sent to local officials last week…

The group proposes purchasing the Coliseum land — which includes Oracle Arena and other nearby properties — for $167.3 million, which accounts for bond obligations owed and prepayment penalties. The plan includes upgrading and replacing the site’s sewer and septic systems, which infamously have backed up during games, spewing raw sewage into dugouts and team clubhouses.

Note that Lott, who previously expressed an interest in developing the Coliseum site with a new Raiders stadium included, isn’t actually involved in the bid, though some of his partners are. The front man for the land bid appears to be Martin J. Greenberg, who is co-founder of the National Sports Law Institute at Marquette University Law School, which is just weird, but I guess everybody in the stadium world is tempted to jump in and be part of the game at some point.

Oakland Mayor Libby Schaaf immediately rejected the bid, though it’s not immediately clear whether this was because she felt it was too low a price for 120 acres of downtown (well, sort of downtown) Oakland land, or because she doesn’t want to piss off Raiders owner Mark Davis and A’s owner Lew Wolff, each of whom would rather develop the land themselves. Schaaf told the East Bay Express:

“We did not recommend consideration of this offer at this time,” the mayor said. “We remain committed to a team-centered development. We want the Raiders and the NFL at the center of this future site.”

There are so many players here and so much potential jockeying for leverage that it’s hard to tell who’s trying to put one over on whom at any given point, but at least, unlike in Phoenix, there are actually some people who want the stadium land in Oakland. Actually wanting to pay for building a stadium without getting a cheap deal on development rights is another thing, but hey, baby steps!

Turns out nobody actually wants to buy Diamondbacks’ stadium, oops

The crazy-ass plan for Maricopa County to sell the Arizona Diamondbacks‘ Chase Field — which the Diamondbacks owners want either upgraded or replaced or they’re threatening to move — to some out-of-state investment bankers turned out to be even more crazy-ass than anyone expected, as the potential buyers haven’t even shown up to any meetings to discuss a sale price. Apparently a used stadium with an angry tenant who has to approve your purchase and probably won’t isn’t a hot commodity among real-estate investors, who knew?

Instead, the county may hire an outside firm to appraise the stadium and its surrounding land, to see if its $60 million asking price was reasonable. Which, sure, go for it, Maricopa County. But it’s still hard to see how shifting ownership of the stadium resolves the underlying problem, which is that D-Backs owner Ken Kendrick is demanding at least $187 million in stadium upgrades, mostly for things his lease says he has to pay for, a battle that is likely to end up in court. Maybe the county should sell the stadium to a bunch of lawyers — at least they’d guarantee themselves lots of billable hours.

Clark County officials ask questions about Raiders stadium plan, but none of the right ones

With the Nevada legislature not in session, it’s been left to the Clark County Commission to debate the proposed $750-million-plus subsidy for a Las Vegas stadium for the Oakland Raiders. They did so yesterday, and of the seven commission members, two asked lots of questions about the deal:

A barrage of questions came from Commissioners Marilyn Kirkpatrick and Chris Giunchigliani…“It gives a lot of authority to one group of folks to determine … how the dollars are spent, all of those leases that are created early on, and a lot of the protections I think we need as a county on the bonding are done by somebody else without any input from us,” [Kirkpatrick] said after the meeting. “None of that said they had to live in Nevada. There was a lot of detail left out on who can actually sit on that authority.”

Kirkpatrick added she wanted to see language guaranteeing Nevada workers the bulk of the jobs created by the stadium project.

Giunchigliani, who has opposed public financing for the stadium, said she needed more information about the proposed hotel room tax increase. The commissioner added that she would rather see Adelson put his entire $650 million stake into the project before the county began paying.

Those are questions, all right. They’re not any of the questions that they should be asking — like “Is it really worth it to Clark County to put $750 million in tax money into this?” or “When are we going to see a proposed lease so we know whether taxpayers will be on the hook for future maintenance and upgrade costs?” — but it’s more than commission chair Steve Sisolak, who was on the appointed task force that proposed this deal and was in the position of defending it, or the other four commissioners, who “were near silent on the matter” according to the Las Vegas Review-Journal, would-be stadium subsidy recipient Sheldon Adelson’s pet newspaper.

Or if you want alternative coverage, here’s an entire report from KSNV-TV that thinks that the appointed task force consisting largely of casino executives is a county “tourism committee.” I’m done, see you tomorrow.

Goodell asked about Raiders’ Vegas move, answers like NFL commissioners are paid to answer

Roger Goodell was asked on Sunday if the NFL would approve an Oakland Raiders move to Las Vegas, and said everything you would expect from a man who needs to balance keeping various owners happy, not pissing off local elected officials, and keeping open the option of some kind of stadium bidding war:

“There’s still a lot that has to happen before we would get to that stage,” Goodell said of the owners approving Las Vegas as an NFL city. “Recognizing that they came out of committee with a bill, but there’s still a lot of work to be done to improve that recommendation.”

He said he is still evaluating whether having a team play in a casino-filled city is a good idea…

“Well, you never want to see a community lose their franchise once, much less twice,” Goodell said. “That’s why we work so hard with our communities to say, ‘This is what you have to try to get to,’ because you need to try to make sure this franchise continues to be successful.’

“The Minnesota community did that in a great way. I think we can do it in Oakland. I think there’s a solution there, but it takes the community to help identify it.”

You can parse this in a million different ways, but the way that makes the most sense is “We’re keeping our options open.” Or maybe “Keep throwing money on the table, we’ll count it up later to see who wins.” Right now it’s tough to imagine the NFL owners turning down an offer of at least $750 million if the Nevada legislature offers it, casino city or no, but there’s still a lot of haggling left to go.

Rams celebrate return to L.A. by making fans sit in sun, running out of water by halftime

The Los Angeles Rams will play at the Los Angeles Coliseum for the next three seasons while their new stadium in Inglewood is being built, and they got off to a terrible start in Sunday’s home opener. This had very little to do with the Coliseum being 84 years old, and everything to do with it being so hot that 160 fans were treated for the heat including 14 who had to go to the hospital (it doesn’t help that the Coliseum lacks even a partial roof), and to the Rams management not doing proper crowd control and not thinking to order any jumbo cases of bottled water. From Deadspin, which has been diligently compiling all the horror stories:

Here are your best stories from the game. From Ian, a success story:

I went to the game with a couple buddies yesterday and the concession stand debacle was as big of an abortion as advertised. Left with 4:20 left in the 2nd quarter to grab waters for our group and ended up having to wait in 3 different lines since the first two I was in ran out. Continued to wait through the entirety of halftime and returned to my seat with about 7 minutes left in the 3rd… BUT I GOT THAT DAMN WATER!

Matt tells us that concessions were woefully understocked in St. Louis too:

My wife volunteered regularly for charity concession booths at all of the pro sporting events in St. Louis, including the Rams games. She always said that the Rams ran out of everything before half time. The Cardinals and Blues never had all of the problems she saw at the Rams games.

The whole organization is obviously run by amateurs. The product on the field, marketing blunders, concessions, drafting players. They fail in literally every way they can. Not any different than the other teams that asshole owns.

Another tipster describes the traffic, both human and motor:

Traffic, gridlock. Entry, chaotic and overcrowded. Concessions, sorry we’re out by halftime!? Protection from elements, nada! Rams fans, smack talking and booing their own team with chants to kill the Seahawks kicker! People smoking. Security, what security? Leaving the stadium, dangerously crowded in all walkways. Gridlock at the trains/busses. Complete hell! The NFL should not allow that stadium to host ANY games until they can provide safety and security for the fans!

At least fans only had to pay between $50 and $1,000 for parking. Welcome back to the NFL, Los Angeles!