Winning Not Enough for Sockers

Just win, baby.

That has always been the elixir. That has always been the cure. That is what we hear is the answer to financial doldrums.

We hear San Diego State University tell us its athletic budget deficit will be erased . . . when football and basketball win. We hear the Chargers tell us they will rebound to sellout crowds . . . when they win. We hear the Padres tell us they will soar past 2 million in attendance . . . when they win.

That’s right.

Just win, baby.

Tell it to the Sockers.

All they do is win championships and lose money. They have won nine championship banners they can hardly afford to have embroidered. You probably can find championship rings at a pawn shop.

Let any team in a sport such as football or basketball or baseball or even hockey win as much as the Sockers have won, and it would be the greatest dynasty since the Roman Empire. And these guys don’t even sell out the penultimate game in their own arena.

Once again, they are on the ropes. They might even be worse than on the ropes this time. They may be through the ropes and in the lap of a Grim Reaper sitting in the front row.

They have been this way before. They have survived a decade of uncertainty. They could never be comfortable that there would be a tomorrow, much less a next season.

These guys have to be getting worn down and punchy.

Ron Fowler, the managing general partner, is.

Fowler, who makes his money in the beverage distribution business, has absorbed four years of substantial losses. Understandably, he has had enough.

Fowler himself had bailed out Bob Bell, like Fowler a fan who finally had to face up to the fact that it cost much too much money to sit in the owner’s box.

Now there is the uncertainty of a month of waiting to see if another savior rides to the rescue. Fowler has set a June 30 deadline. He needs four partners to pick up 80% of this franchise, which translates to four partners who want to pick up 80% of the losses.

By normal operating standards for this franchise, each of the four partners would be writing a $150,000 check with virtually no likelihood of getting a nickel of it back. This is not an appealing prospect. It would be a smarter investment to play a $150,000 hand of blackjack.

It does not look good.

For one thing, Ron Fowler has been looking for partners right along. This does not bode well because his loop of friends and colleagues includes a substantial percentage of San Diegans who have the kind of money it takes to blow away $150,000.

Where, indeed, do you cross the line between civic-minded and foolhardy?

The suspicion, then, is that there is little chance four such partners will come galloping into the Sports Arena with saddle bags bulging with gold.

The only other chance for the Sockers to survive in San Diego would be for out-of-towners to come forth as investors. The harsh reality is that it would make no more sense for them than it would for locals.

Ron Newman, the coach, has some ideas. He is never short of ideas when it comes to this game he loves. He has been through all this before too, but you get the sense that he realizes this may be the most desperate of times.

He is calling for a rally of community support and writing Joan Kroc and suggesting that the Padres or Chargers drop one player and use the money saved to fund the entire Socker payroll.

None of the above are likely to come to the rescue, because it does not look like there is any way out.

Barring an absolute miracle, this franchise will either fold or leave town. If it folds, the Major Soccer League might go under as well. If it moved to another city, it would confront even more of this June Gloom.

Either of those scenarios would be sad. These people have tried so hard to squeeze themselves into a niche of their own in the community. They were avidly embraced by a faithful few, but remained That Funny Other Sport to far too many.

Folks who came to watch discovered an enjoyably fast-paced game. What was amazing was that more people didn’t stop by for that initial taste.

Isn’t winning supposed to whet the appetite?