Let's talk about the most audacious con in the history of American commerce. It's not crypto. It's not a Ponzi scheme.

It's MLB baseball and NFL football — and you, my friend, are the mark.

Here's how the hustle works. Both the NFL and Major League Baseball were born under the warm, cozy blanket of nonprofit, tax-exempt status. That's right — the same classification your local food bank uses. The NFL operated as an unincorporated nonprofit 501(c)(6) since 1942, with league income distributed to each of its 32 teams rather than being taxed at the league level. MLB ran the same play for decades before quietly giving up the status in 2007, and the NFL followed in 2015 — but only after public embarrassment made the charade impossible to maintain. The NFL dropped the status and called it a "distraction" — which is a nice way of saying they no longer wanted to publicly disclose that Commissioner Roger Goodell was pocketing $44 million a year as the head of a "nonprofit." 

So they got their sweetheart tax deals. Fine. That's old news. The new news — and by "new" I mean the same thing that's been happening for decades while everyone looks the other way — is that the American taxpayer is now also expected to build the billionaires their playgrounds.

Let's use Buffalo as Exhibit A.

New York taxpayers committed a combined $850 million to the new Buffalo Bills stadium — $600 million from the state and $250 million from Erie County — making it the largest public investment in an NFL facility in American history. The total price tag on that stadium? It ballooned to more than $2.1 billion, with the team responsible for picking up the overruns. And the owners writing the check on their end? The Pegula family, who controls the Buffalo Bills, has a net worth of more than $5 billion — wealth built primarily by selling Marcellus Shale drilling licenses to Royal Dutch Shell for $4.7 billion. 

But Wait — Detroit took money from the kids.

If you think Buffalo is bad, pull up a chair and let us tell you about what happened right here in Michigan. Because while the Pegulas at least had the decency to keep their school-funding shenanigans out of the headlines, the Ilitch family — yes, the Little Caesars pizza empire — found a way to build their arena using money that Detroit voters had specifically approved for the city's children.

The Detroit Downtown Development Authority used $284.5 million in school property taxes captured from within its downtown district to support part of the bonds used to build Little Caesars Arena. Read that again. School property taxes. Money that Detroit — a school district that has been chronically underfunded for decades, that has closed over 100 schools, that has asked teachers to accept wage freezes — was redirected to build a hockey rink for a billionaire family. 

In December 2012, the state legislature passed a bill specifically allowing state funds to be diverted to the DDA and the Ilitches' project, classifying it as "a catalyst development project." And in December 2014, the same week the city emerged from bankruptcy, Michigan Attorney General Bill Schuette issued an opinion arguing that school taxes captured by the DDA were technically never dedicated to the School Aid Fund — and therefore could legally be used to fund the arena's construction. A legal sleight of hand that would make a Vegas card shark blush. 

The total direct taxpayer funds committed to Little Caesars Arena and the surrounding District Detroit came to approximately $400 million — but when the actual value of land deals and changes to tax arrangements are factored in, the total value of public subsidy over the arena's life could exceed $740 million. 

And what did Detroit get in return? The Ilitches promised five vibrant new mixed-use neighborhoods surrounding the arena — hundreds of apartments, restaurants, shops, and nightlife that would revitalize the area. What residents actually got was parking garages. Lots of parking garages. As of 2026, much of the promised District Detroit remains a redevelopment dead zone, while condos built by other developers just outside the district — with far less public money — sell for as much as $1.3 million. 

A Detroit News investigation found that the Ilitch organization is linked to 147 idle or undeveloped properties in the heart of Detroit. One hundred and forty-seven. For a family that asked for hundreds of millions in public money by promising to transform the city. 

A lawsuit was filed to stop the school tax diversion. It was dismissed by a federal judge on standing grounds. The money was spent. The schools got nothing. The arena got built. And the Ilitch family — worth an estimated $6 billion — named it after their pizza company, because why pay for naming rights when you already own the building? 

Back to the National Picture

And Buffalo and Detroit aren't even the most egregious examples — they're just the most recent. Since 2000, the federal government has subsidized construction and renovations for 35 professional sports stadiums with $3.2 billion in federal taxpayer dollars. Thirty-five stadiums. For teams owned by billionaires. For leagues that generate tens of billions in revenue annually. 

Now here's where it gets truly insulting.

These same leagues — the ones that needed your tax dollars to build their venues — have no problem whatsoever writing checks that would make your eyes water. Detroit Tigers ace Tarik Skubal just won a salary arbitration case to the tune of $32 million for the 2026 season — the largest salary ever awarded through arbitration in MLB history. $32 million. For one pitcher. For one year. In Comerica Park — a stadium that Wayne County owns and that was itself built with public financing. 

We want to be clear: Tarik Skubal is exceptional and has earned every penny. That's not the point. The point is that if the Detroit Tigers can budget $32 million for one arm, perhaps — just perhaps — the billionaire owners of professional sports franchises don't need the rest of us chipping in for their real estate????

Why Do We Allow It?

A public poll found that over two-thirds of Americans oppose stadium subsidies. Two thirds. So the people are against it. And yet the stadiums keep getting built on the public dime, one sweetheart deal at a time, negotiated behind closed doors between governors who want their photo op and owners who want their building paid for. The NFL's antitrust exemption — quietly granted by Congress during the 1966 AFL merger as a favor from Louisiana lawmakers who happened to land an expansion franchise for New Orleans — remains in place to this day, giving these leagues a legal protection that virtually no other industry in America enjoys. 

They got their nonprofit status. They got their antitrust exemption. They got their stadiums. They raided school budgets. They got their tax-exempt municipal bonds. And they've gotten away with it because football Sundays are sacred and nobody wants to be the guy who ruined the tailgate.

The next time your city or state tells you it can't afford to fix the roads, fund the schools, or keep the library open on Saturdays — ask them how much they're spending to make a billionaire's stadium look nice.

Because in Detroit, they already answered that question. And the kids paid the price.