The competing plans for the revitalization of Lockhart Stadium in Fort Lauderdale have opened up age old scars in the South Florida soccer community. At issue is whether teams called Miami can play in Fort Lauderdale, whether Broward is better for pro soccer than Miami-Dade and vise versa.
In the process of narrative building, it’s become convenient to misrepresent the demise of the Miami Fusion, the former MLS club that played its home matches in Fort Lauderdale at Lockhart Stadium.
It’s also worth remembering the thriving MLS of 2019 isn’t the close-to-extinction MLS of 2001 nor is the crime-ridden reputation Miami had (with little justice) in 2001 indicative of the sexiness of the image of that name in 2019. It’s also worth noting the independent identity of Fort Lauderdale and Broward County, something I grew up militantly embracing, isn’t quite what it was in the late 1990’s either.
It’s been convenient for zealots on both sides of the Miami v. Fort Lauderdale debate to mischaracterize the Fusion’s demise. But assuming the Fusion failed because they played in Fort Lauderdale instead of Miami would also ignore the history of other soccer clubs-four in total-that gravitated from Miami to Fort Lauderdale and found the pastures greener to the north.
Contrary to the commonly accepted narrative, the Fusion’s struggles were largely unrelated to location and in fact, the combination of location and having what after 1998 was basically a soccer-specific-stadium probably made the club more viable than it would have been otherwise.
Owner-operator Ken Horowitz overpaid for the franchise, a reported $20 million in an era when MLS clubs were worth less than half that much. He didn’t have the resources to throw into the club that three owners did – Lamar Hunt, Robert Kraft and Phil Anschutz. With the nearby league-owned Tampa Bay Mutiny failing (the unnecessary downfall of the Mutiny is another sorrowful Florida soccer story we’ll save for another time), the decision was taken to become a more geographically compact league and exit the southeast completely. In 2001, two clubs that still exist today, Kansas City and San Jose, averaged less fans per match than the Fusion.
In 2001, MLS was on the brink of collapse.
The league’s quality was questionable. A lack of quality football matches made it harder for the many fans who tried to support the Fusion to stick with it. Understandably, they were discouraged by a club whose finances were strained and who, despite talented scouts, lacked the cash flow to build a deep roster. There was a sense that despite having a good team, the organization was “less professional” than the clubs in other places. Most other MLS clubs were having similar problems at the same time, but the geographically isolated Fusion were singled out for contraction. Other owner-operators were bought out of the league, while Ken Horowitz was given other promises and incentives by MLS as he exited the scene.
Soon after the Fusion and Mutiny were contracted, MLS formed Soccer United Marketing (SUM) and fundamentally changed the economic viability of investing in the league. Had the Fusion survived to the SUM era there should be little doubt they would exist and be competitive today.
It could be argued that at the time a Miami identity wasn’t worth embracing in Broward County. The very real “white flight” of the 1970’s and 1980’s culminated after Hurricane Andrew and the reputation of the area suffered even more greatly after the high-profile murder of Gianni Versace on Miami Beach in 1997. Ironically, that murder changed things; Miami-Dade County’s government initiated a series of reforms after the international embarrassment that have vaulted the city into a vibrant new millennium. These reforms, coupled ironically with Versace’s embrace of Miami as a potential fashion capital to rival Milan, Paris and New York, helped the city begin its post-Andrew revival.
But an hour north in Broward, old perceptions have died hard.
As a militant Broward County resident, I held the Miami Heat’s decision to not relocate to Broward against them for years. I refused to pick up relatives out of Miami International Airport and eventually turned on the Marlins as they embraced a Miami identity (while simultaneously swindling the Miami taxpayers). But in the long run, I realized Miami’s reputation has changed and it is now emerging as a global, cosmopolitan city, a link between North and South America and an oasis of culture and commerce. Meanwhile, Fort Lauderdale remains largely a sleepy town which, while serving as the seat for a bustling, populous county, is nothing like Miami. Linking Fort Lauderdale with the Miami brand is a delicate issue, especially among locals proud of their Broward roots, but for me and many other South Floridians it is not as cut-and-dried as it once was.
Today, Miami is a sexy, world renowned destination. There’s a value to the brand, just as there is with New York and Los Angeles and Chicago. The association with Miami and deployment of it as a branding term is on the rise, hence the renaming of various entities such as MetroZoo to incorporate the Miami name. Broward and Palm Beach counties enjoy a symbiotic relationship with Miami both economically and culturally. While stressing local roots and pride is important, the Miami branding and closeness to Miami does nothing but enhance Broward County as we enter the 2020’s.
This branding value applies in the sports context. It’s part of why MLS has made so many sacrifices to accommodate a Miami franchise and beyond. But the value has been proven beyond the pitch.
The Florida Marlins decision to rebrand as the Miami Marlins was immensely valuable from a revenue standpoint, with merchandise sales increasing by almost 100% in the first year after the rebrand.
While the Marlins are a poorly run and supported franchise by any metric, anecdotal evidence points to that revenue expansion crossing county lines. There’s no evidence that more Marlins merchandise was worn by fans in Broward County before the name change than after the change.
Despite winning five national championships before relocating, Miami Hurricanes football has likewise seen an increase in attendance and revenue through cooperation with its neighboring county to the north. UM football attendance is actually significantly higher since move from dilapidated Orange Bowl, even if the common narrative is the program lost its way with the move. During the final season at the Orange Bowl before the move was announced (2006), the Hurricanes averaged 41,908 fans a game. In 2008, the first year at Dolphins Stadium the average was 46,299. The Hurricanes had the same record in 2006 and 2008. By 2013, Miami was averaging 53,837 fans and in 2018 with the same 7-6 record as 2006 and 2008, the Hurricanes averaged over 60,000 fans a home game. The bottom line is the move north to Broward has given UM closer ties to its wealthy alumni base and engaged more local fans, while preserving the image of the Canes as “Miami’s” college team.
Now let’s focus on the most recent failed soccer club in Broward County, the Fort Lauderdale Strikers.
In 2014, the last season data was made available to me, 25% of Strikers season ticket holders came from Miami-Dade County, and 22 % from Palm Beach County. The club still struggled to sell tickets and had to dig deep under the leadership of President “Soccer” Tom Mulroy to engage the entire South Florida community. Any club in the tri-county area that seeks to play at a professional level but ignores potential fans from another county doesn’t just risk failure; they invite it.. That’s true for an MLS club playing in Miami or a lower league team playing in Fort Lauderdale or West Palm Beach. It’s true for an MLS Club playing in Fort Lauderdale too.
South Florida has its share of critics as a soccer market and as a locale and honestly, with history as a guide, many of the critiques of the region as a soccer market are accurate, even if the stereotypes about the communities widely miss the mark. Currently, a small group of fans are attempting to gain an advantage by mischaracterizing the ability of Broward County to support a high-level club. They are not only wrong, but if they get their way, Inter Miami CF, who have already had a host of issues getting started, could go down as the most challenged MLS startup since Chivas USA. MLS and American soccer cannot allow misplaced geographic snobbery to force a new club to adhere to a tight geographic base. More vitally, a diverse soccer market that would love to support another professional team should reject the politics of parochialism and embrace cohesion and unity. It’s the only way big-time soccer- and whoever wins the bid for Lockhart- will survive in South Florida.
Kartik Krishnaiyer is a veteran American soccer journalist and the author of multiple books about the beautiful game. The former Communications Director for the North American Soccer League, he hosts the TYAC Podcast, among other projects. Follow him on Twitter @kkfla737.