Capitol Hill power brokers have done their best to cast Gov. Jon Huntsman Jr. as suave knight and Salt Lake County Mayor Peter Corroon as the warty troll.
Huntsman slipped easily into his role, reviving the fairy tale with a last-minute call to Real owner Dave Checketts more than a week ago. He made an unusual public appearance during the legislative session to persuade reluctant lawmakers. And through it all, he bucked public sentiment. The governor thinks the people, who don't want public tax money to pay for a private soccer stadium, are simply misled and, apparently, simple.
The governor is taking the "long view" - from the "30,000-foot level."
That would mean, I guess, that Corroon and other skeptics are focused on what's in front of their noses.
Plodding as he seems, Corroon was drawn into the story reluctantly. The deliberative and quiet mayor of Salt Lake County agreed to soccer five months ago, but he always wanted to see the numbers. And when they came in, they showed Real probably would lose money, with only small shifts in ticket sales putting the team in the red. So, the former low-income housing developer said no.
"My decision is not about the popularity of soccer in Utah. It is about spending taxpayer money," Corroon said.
That sent Checketts into a tantrum; he threatened to pack up and take his team to St. Louis. Soccer fans wrung their hands. Sandy Mayor Tom Dolan steamed. And the second-guessing, fueled by Utahns' built-in inferiority complex, kicked in: What message would it send to the rest of the world if Utah rejected a publicly subsidized soccer stadium? Would our dreams of an NFL or Major League Baseball team flutter away? Would the state ever recover?
As the collective whining sucked the air out of the state, the real savior of soccer stepped quietly into the vacuum: House Speaker Greg Curtis. One day, he declared soccer dead. The next, he was figuring out a state financing package that is supposed to stick tourists with a chunk of the soccer stadium bill.
After writing legislation to dedicate $20 million for a parking structure in his hometown two years ago, Curtis lined up his Girl Friday, South Jordan Republican Rep. Merlynn Newbold, to sponsor legislation this year diverting another $15 million in hotel and restaurant taxes to buy the land. Despite repeated platitudes about local control and "government closest to the people," lawmakers were determined to override Corroon. The speaker silenced potential critics and spoilers. And then, finally, Curtis stepped back, letting Huntsman take virtually all of the credit.
At the giddy, scarf-swathed news conference last week, Curtis was solemn, standing to the side, off camera. Huntsman took the center with Checketts. Even Salt Lake City Mayor Rocky Anderson, a Democrat many conservative lawmakers consider the anti-Christ, was there with his Real jersey. Corroon, however, was absent.
"I wasn't invited," he said. "It was better I wasn't there."
Sandy will get its chain restaurants, hotels and condos. Huntsman's economic development executives can mention Major League Soccer as they trot the globe. And Utah soccer fans - Corroon among them - can watch the home team.
In the end, Corroon still seems more concerned about the finances of the deal than the state leaders who trumped him. Some of the critical details still must be finalized - including the team's commitment to build a soccer academy in Salt Lake City. The single sheet of unsigned Real letterhead Huntsman carried around last week probably won't suffice. Corroon asked county attorneys to fax all the contracts they had studied for months to the governor's office - just FYI.
Exhausted with his part in the drama, Corroon is hoping legislators will be satisfied with their rebuke and drop proposed legislation to yank even more of the county's restaurant taxes.
"They giveth and they taketh away," said a resigned Corroon. "We're hoping to get back to business as usual."
So are we, mayor. So are we.
walsh@sltrib.com
