Arizona Gov. Katie Hobbs signed the bill on Friday providing state funding for renovations for the Arizona Diamondbacks‘ stadium, after it passed the state senate the previous week, and then celebrated by hugging the team mascot, as one does. Which makes it a good time to ask the question: Exactly how much money are Arizona taxpayers on the hook for under the deal, anyway?
Throughout the process, the public subsidy has mostly been described as capped at $500 million, to be collected from state, county, and city sales taxes on purchases at Chase Field as well as part of the state income taxes paid by D-backs and visiting players. (The Arizona Republic, in a rare moment of candor for a major newspaper, noted that “Right now, those sales and income tax dollars fund government services, everything from road construction to operating K-12 schools.”) But it’s a fuzzy cap — there’s an “inflation adjustment” that allows the $500 million figure to grow over time, potentially to as high as $1 billion:
Caps the total TPT and income tax diversions at $500,000,000 and requires the Maricopa
County Stadium District Treasurer to annually increase the cap by 3 percent beginning in 2027
and until December 31, 2055.
That is a super-weird way of defining a “cap”: Since the tax revenues aren’t all going to pour in at once, it’s entirely possible for the Diamondbacks to stay under the limit until 2055, at which point it will hit $1.143 billion. If we divide that figure up evenly over the 28-year term, that would be $40.8 million a year, for a present value (at a 5% discount rate) of $627 million — meaning if Diamondbacks owner Ken Kendrick took out a stadium renovation loan at 5%, he could afford to borrow $627 million and the public would pay it off.
That’s not the only way Kendrick could hit the cap, though. Let’s say sales and income tax revenues come in faster than that, at $60 million a year. It would then reach the cap at $692 million in 2038, which would only be about $530 million in present value. Or let’s say tax revenues start at $30 million a year, then rise by 3% a year after that — in that case, they would hit the cap at $958 million in 2049, with the payments over time amounting to a present value of around $566 million.
Or, let’s take the Arizona legislature’s fiscal analysis of the bill, which projects that sales and income tax revenue would amount to just $15.7 million in the first year. If that number only rises by 3% a year, then Arizona gets a bargain: The tax revenue never reaches the cap, and only amounts to $340 million in value. If hot dog prices and player salaries rise faster than that, though, then the public cost goes up again: A 6% a year increase in tax receipts would almost fill the entire cap by 2055, making the public cost in present value again over $600 million.
That’s a whole lot of maybes, and how on earth Kendrick will determine how much money he has available to spend on stadium upgrades is a great question, though he doesn’t really have to decide now: The tax money will be placed in a stadium district fund, which the team will be able to draw on for stadium costs over time. So if Kendrick wants to, say, spend $300 million now on new video boards or food preparation facilities or a retractable roof that reliably retracts, then more later once he sees how much public money can draw on, he can easily do that. (Kendrick has promised to put in $250 million of his own money, too, though he hasn’t promised it in any legally binding way.)
And this, dear readers, is one reason why there’s no central database of stadium subsidies: Figuring out how much public money is actually going to go to sports team owners over the course of a deal can be really, really hard, and may not be clear until several decades down the road. If anyone wants a number to use going forward, it’s probably fair to say that the D-backs subsidy will cost Arizona taxpayers “as much as $600 million” — that’s good enough for government work, no pun intended.