Bagley the designated doomsayer in stadium push

You still see the bumper stickers once in a while, usually affixed to a well-used Volvo or a VW Beetle. "It will be a great day," it says, "when our schools get all the money they need and the Air Force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber."

Some enterprising Minnesotan should be cashing in with the new-millennium version of that 1960s staple. Taxpayers wary of another stadium shakedown -- this time by the Vikings -- could say it with their minivans: "It will be a great day when our schools/roads/environment get all the money they need, and Zygi Wilf has to sell candy bars to build a new stadium." Maybe a slogan can send a stronger message, since a simple no doesn't seem to resonate with the local NFL team.

Last week, the Vikings were one of several teams projected as possible tenants for a proposed $800 million stadium in the Los Angeles suburb of Industry. The project could clear a final legal obstacle this week, as California's state senate decides whether to allow developer Ed Roski Jr.'s company to dodge environmental regulations. Should Roski succeed, he will begin courting NFL teams early next year, triggering another round of extortion attempts by franchises who want to fund private enterprise with public cash.

So we can expect Vikings VP Lester Bagley to revive his Paulie Walnuts act this winter. Like that Soprano family foot soldier, he'll make the threats -- Put $700 million in public funds in the envelope or we'll empty out the joint! -- while the boss stays in the background, just waiting to count the money.

In case you've forgotten, Wilf stated unequivocally in 2005 that he would not do anything so crass as to move the Vikings because of financial concerns. While he said he wanted to build a new stadium -- and that public funding would "probably be an important component" -- he added that he wouldn't use the threat of moving as a cudgel. "No way," he said on the day he officially became Vikings owner. "To me, this is not a matter of economics, this is a matter of passion. We will be in the Minneapolis area forever."

Granted, we've heard this line before. In his early days as the Minnesota North Stars' owner, Norm Green said: "Can you imagine saying, 'Buy tickets, or we're going to move the team?' That's the worst possible approach you can take. You can't blackmail people." Three years later, he moved the team because it didn't sell enough tickets.

You can hardly blame pro sports owners for going back to this strategy over and over. It's a proven winner, evidenced by taxpayer-funded stadiums all over the country. And in Wilf's case, he's paying someone else to bring the heat, so he can maintain a good-guy image while attempting to enrich himself with a publicly-subsidized facility.

It takes a special brand of hubris to demand public stadium financing now. This year's legislative session was one of the most painful in memory, as spending was slashed on basics such as education and health care. Next year is likely to be even tougher.

But as the Los Angeles stadium project has moved forward, Bagley has continued his fear-mongering. The Vikings, he says, are "watching these developments with interest." Wilf is "frustrated." Time is running out, and "if nothing gets done, maybe the Wilfs throw in the towel."

Pro sports franchises do have value, above and beyond the $600 million Wilf paid for the Vikings and the $835 million they are currently worth. They can provide a lively thread in the community fabric, a shared passion, a fun diversion. But they are businesses owned by wealthy people with the aim of becoming wealthier. Even in flusher times, taxpayers should not be expected to foot their stadium costs.

Roski's L.A. playground will be built with private funding. So was his Staples Center in downtown Los Angeles, as well as the stadiums of the New England Patriots, the San Francisco Giants and the Miami Dolphins, proving that a creative dealmaker does not need public money. But Roski will be an accomplice for any NFL owner intent on securing a public subsidy.

In his role as hired bully for the man behind the curtain, Bagley warned earlier this year that "it's reality check time." He's right. The Vikings need to face the reality that scarce public funds must be spent on bread before circuses -- no matter how much the clowns protest.

Rachel Blount • rblount@startribune.com