CFL to sit out season

I’d made peace with the fact that there would be no 2020 Canadian Football League season long before the plug was officially pulled this afternoon. A circuit that starts in the early part of the summer couldn’t due to the COVID-19 pandemic, and as each weekend passed it became more apparent that time was quickly running out.

Scott Adamson writes about alternative football leagues because it makes him happy. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl and Instagram @adamsons60

An infusion of government cash never seemed likely, and a six game season played in a locked-down Winnipeg hub was a desperate plan for a league that needs ticket-buying fans.

Everything hinged on maybes, but it was always closer to “maybe not.”

The last ray of hope was extinguished when the Canadian federal government denied the nine-team organization a $30 million, interest-free loan last Friday. That decision was made in what was supposed to be Week 10 of an 18-game regular season. Now – for the first time since 1919 – there will be no Grey Cup to determine the CFL champion.

“All the pieces that were required to play didn’t come together,” said CFL Commissioner Randy Ambrosie, who spoke to reporters via teleconference earlier today. “We were close to a new (collective bargaining agreement) for 2020 with our players and we had a health plan that had been approved by the officials in Manitoba, but what we really needed in the end was financial support from the federal government. That never materialized.”

A lack of transparency by the league has been cited as a major reason there was no financial aid, but Ambrosie insists that wasn’t the case.

“It was never brought to our attention that there was a lack of transparency,” he said. “Quite honestly, I thought we were as clear and concise and as transparent as we could possibly be. They did show us a couple of opportunities that we were clear with them would not work for us, and some new ideas surfaced and they looked even more promising, but they never materialized. I just really don’t think it was a lack of transparency. I just think in the end they couldn’t get done what we thought they would and what we hoped that they would.”

Like all people whose jobs have been impacted by the virus, CFL workers have taken a devastating hit. But the players – unlike their NFL counterparts who have plenty of financial wiggle room – were forced into a wait-and-see situation for months.

As late as last week the league was denying its players chances to bolt for NFL training camps, citing the fact that they were under contract. But considering they weren’t getting paid and have families to provide for, that put them in a horrible spot.

And it’s not like corporate generated much goodwill with the on-field talent. When Ambrosie and company originally began lobbying the government for money, they didn’t involve players in the negotiations. And although they ultimately came together to present a unified front, it wasn’t enough.

“I’ve never met a leader that I respect who doesn’t take responsibility when things don’t go well, so I do feel responsible for the fact that we’re not going to play this season,” Ambrosie said. “But there are things that we can learn. I can look back – and I have looked back – at how all this unfolded, and there are things I would’ve liked to have done differently. You just try to learn from those things and move on.”

If this was the NFL canceling its season, you could be confident that its players would be fine and it would return in 2021 with all 32 of its franchises intact.

And while I want to think that’s the case with the CFL, it’s hardly a sure bet. As I wrote back in June:

Compared to the NFL, its television deal is modest. A six-year contract with The Sports Network, signed in 2019, is worth around $37 million (in U.S. dollars) annually and shared among the nine Canadian teams. That sounds pretty good until you realize the NFL’s 32 franchises shared $8.78 billion in TV revenue in 2019 – about $275 million per club. Those figures are based on the annual report released by the Green Bay Packers, the only team that publicly releases its finances.

The CFL also counts on paying customers to help the bottom line (average attendance last season was 22,917 per game).

With no TV games in 2020 and attendance that averages zero, you can imagine what a huge blow this is to the Canadian Football League. Comparatively speaking, the NFL is a big box chain retail operation while the league north of the U.S. border is more of a mom-and-pop store.

And that’s not an insult; I love the CFL – everything from its unique rules to its tradition – and I miss watching it. While football season begins for many of you when the first NFL exhibition is played in August, mine always starts in June, somewhere in Canada.

“Our single biggest source of revenue is ticket sales, so that will be affected by this,” Ambrosie said. “We plan on 2021 to be a softer year for revenue based on everything going on with the virus.”

So what happens now?

“I talked to the governors today and there was a real spirit of resolve,” Ambrosie said. “We’re looking at our financial models, and we’re looking at ways to create more efficiencies. We need to find ways to share more together to make our league stronger. There are no magic answers to all the challenges we’re going to face, but I have the good fortune of waking up every day with a remarkable group of governors, and a remarkable group of owners, and I get a chance to go back to them with some time that we’ve never had before to really work on a long-term plan.

“We need to think about ways we can accelerate our plans to become more international and we need to look at revenue opportunities that will open the doors to a bigger and stronger future. I simply believe in the people we work with. I believe we will rise to this challenge and I believe with the support of our fans and our sponsors, this league can be position for the best future possible. It’s going to take a lot of hard work, but I believe 2021 will be the year of a great comeback for our league.”

I want to believe, too.

However, I’m going to err on the side of skepticism after the way this non-season played out.

Pac Pro missed its chance

College football had itself a week.

Scott Adamson writes about alternative football leagues because it makes him happy. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl and Instagram @adamsons60

To review, the threat of seeing the 2020 season wiped out due to the COVID-19 pandemic led some of the sport’s biggest stars to push for a safe way to stage it while also lobbying for the future formation of a College Football Players Association.

Then, after some athletes had already opted out because of health risks, conferences such as the Big Ten and Pac-12 as well as individual schools canceled their fall seasons. Others – including the SEC, ACC and Big 12 – decided to move forward, with delayed starts and altered schedules.

And on Thursday, a group of U.S. senators announced plans to put “a college athletes bill of rights” before Congress which would, among other things, attempt to guarantee monetary compensation and long-term healthcare.

That’s why there’s a touch of irony in a bit of news many of you probably missed. Pacific Pro Football – a league founded on the premise of featuring college age athletes who would play for a salary and receive standard job perks – is no more, failing to get off the ground three years after it was announced.

Founder Don Yee, the highly regarded NFL agent, quietly abandoned the idea this summer in favor of a new venture that will attempt to use camps and scrimmages to connect free agents with NFL teams. Before calling an audible, Yee had brought in big names like Mike Shanahan to be part of the organization’s advisory board, and even struck a sponsorship deal with adidas.

Objectively, I thought Pac Pro had a better chance at long-term survival than any alternative football league that had come before it. I always goob out at the thought of a sports upstart, but I was genuinely excited about this particular concept.

According to its website:

 “Pac Pro will be the first league to professionalize players who are less than four years removed from their high school graduation. Players will receive a salary, benefits, and even paid tuition and books for one year at community college. Players also will be able to market themselves for compensation, and begin creating a financial retirement plan if they so choose.”

(Keep in mind Pac Pro’s mission statement came long before the NCAA – fearing massive, class-action lawsuits – decided it would be kinda/sorta OK for players to “market themselves for compensation.”)

Salaries were expected to be in the $50,000 range per player, per season. And considering each team would play eight games over a July and August time frame (contested among four Southern California-based franchises the first year with room to grow) that’s quite a windfall for young players who want to get paid for their labor.

Due to the coronavirus it probably wouldn’t have been able to play this summer anyway (although with the teams so close together I assume a bubble format might’ve been possible), but there has never been a better time for just such a league. The college football conversation always seems to come back to finances. And with its volunteer workforce growing more intent about revenue sharing, a play-for-pay league that skews younger makes sense.

The vast majority of guys who compete on college football teams will never make their fortune in professional football, but there are many who can and will. And all of them have helped make the NCAA-sponsored gridiron game a billion dollar industry while turning its top coaches into multi-millionaires.

Look at it this way: if a player competes for a university-sanctioned team, it’s something of a work-study program with an athletic scholarship being the reward. Pac Pro, on the other hand, would’ve amounted to an “earn while you learn” trade school for guys who wanted to major in football.

So when the circuit was originally announced I truly believed that if it made it through a couple of seasons – and some of its players secured spots on NFL rosters – it might become a legitimate alternative to the “amateur model.” And I wouldn’t begrudge any young man who chose a paycheck over a grant if that bettered his situation.

But 2017 turned to 2018 and 2018 rolled over to 2019, and using my shrewd powers of deduction I figured Pacific Pro Football would remain forever stuck on the drawing board.

Just because this circuit has been abandoned doesn’t mean the idea has to die, though. The new owners of the XFL – Dany Garcia, Duane Johnson and Gerry Cardinale – haven’t sought my counsel in rebooting the league, but opening it up to college-age stars is something worth considering. If the proposed college football players union ever comes to fruition, one can assume compensation will be discussed. When it is, though, count on the NCAA to do everything in its power to keep as much for itself as possible.

Based on XFL salaries this year – which averaged roughly $55,000 – it could be a legitimate option for a kid who wants to shorten his pipeline to the NFL. And instead of having rosters full of big league near-misses, a few future stars could be sprinkled in.

And how about the fledgling Freedom Football League, which is currently hosting virtual town halls? Built on a social justice platform, one of its four pillars is “Economic Justice.”

Per freedomfootball.co:

Establishing economic justice via financial incentives through joint ownership and further eliminating financial exploitation and profiteering to the benefit of the few at the expense of many.

Sounds like a young, talented football player exploring his options might want to explore the FFL.

Certainly, anything apart from the status quo will upset people who expect 18 to 22 year olds to suit up in college colors and entertain them. Yet the 18 to 22 year olds themselves might be tempted by the thought of getting spendable recognition for their work.

Now, of course, we know Pacific Pro Football won’t be providing that temptation. But any future league willing to make players actual stakeholders – and put money in their pockets – could give college football a run for its money.

* I wrote about a league with designs on giving young basketball players a payday back in March. It plans to begin play next year.

New hoops league out to change the game

A hands-off policy

Someday the coronavirus pandemic will end, and for the most part people will conduct themselves the way they did before they ever heard of COVID-19. I say “for the most part” because social distancing has shown us that at least one of our previous germ-swapping activities is really unnecessary.

Scott Adamson’s humor column appears whenever he gets a funny feeling. Follow him on Twitter @adamsonsl and Instagram @adamsons60

I refer, of course, to handshakes. If they have now become a thing of the past, I truly won’t miss them at all.

I’ve never been really comfortable shaking hands, anyway. I’m not repulsed by it or anything like that, but there is no uniform way of getting it done and it’s always awkward and forced. I prefer the quick grip and release, but others maintain their hold on my hand for an inordinate amount of time while also shaking it like a Chihuahua with a chew toy.

The thing is, when you shake a hand, you don’t know where that hand has been. There have been people who have shaken my hand in the past that wouldn’t have shaken my hand at all had they known what my hand had been shaking just 15 minutes earlier.

And yes, I was a chronic hand-washer even before the pandemic, but if you’re out and about and away from a sink, your hands will wander and become unclean.

For example, I tend to itch, and when I itch, I scratch. I think many of us do this unthinkingly. If you and I have ever shaken hands before, there’s at least a 50-50 chance that I was scratching my left armpit only moments earlier.

Yes, there is a clothing barrier between my hand and pit as well as a liberal application of Gillette Clear Gel antiperspirant, but still.

I guarantee at some point on any given day you’ll mindlessly scratch your head, knee and/or stomach, and if you’re like me and you happen to hear exciting or surprising news you’ll slap your butt cheek while yelling, “Whoa, mister!”

Or maybe you’re at the store and pick up a bag of dog food. Once this has been done, your hand will smell like dog food until you wash it again. So if you shake with an old friend who’s entering the store as you’re leaving, as soon as you get out of earshot he’ll sniff his hand and say, “Damn, Scott’s been snacking on dog food again.”

The point I’m trying to make is that your hand is going to get into all kinds of mischief throughout the day, and in most cases it’s best that you don’t touch other folks with it.

During the virus some people have replaced the handshake with elbow-bumping, but that’s ridiculous, too. It’s safer, but then again so is staying away from other humans entirely.

Why can’t we all just segue to non-contact greetings?

I’ve heard some people are using the Vulcan salute, which is cool if you’re a Star Trek fan like me. But what if you encounter someone who prefers Star Wars?

They might insult you in Shyriiwook, you’ll respond with a zinger spoken in Klingon, and the next thing you know the nerd fight has gotten physical.

How about just saying a simple, “Hello,” and they can reply with, “Hello,” “Hi,” “Howdy” or “Greetings.” Or if it’s someone you know well you might say, “How’s it hangin’” and they might say, “It’s hangin’ low,” “It’s swingin’ wildly” or “It’s broke.”

But if you insist on non-verbal greetings you might try just nodding and smiling, nodding and mouthing “Hello,” or waving.

During quarantine I learned to do the floss dance, and I’ve experimented with it as a greeting but it takes a bit too long and tends to be unnerving to the older customers at the supermarket.

Whatever the case, if handshakes are no longer fashionable, I’m absolutely fine with it. As many things as our hands touch throughout the day, we should probably only use them to touch ourselves.

OK, that didn’t come out right …