“Fans never ask how much profit the owner makes, what the owner supports, socially or politically. All they want is their team to do is win.” – William A. Foster, IV

The Field of Play Is Political

Every Sunday, millions of Americans tune in to professional sports. Stadiums roar, fans tailgate, and debates rage over statistics, rivalries, and superstar performances. But beyond touchdowns and three-pointers, another game unfolds in quieter boardrooms and political fundraisers—the political game played by the owners of your favorite pro teams.

From the NFL to the NBA, MLB to MLS, team owners aren’t just gatekeepers of championships. They are billionaires, donors, lobbyists, and influencers—powerful actors whose political choices ripple across tax policy, urban development, social issues, and even global diplomacy. For African American communities, whose economic, cultural, and political power is intimately tied to the sports ecosystem—from athletes to fans to cities that host franchises—this influence is especially consequential.

So, does it matter who owns your favorite team? In a word: absolutely.

The Owners’ Club – Who Are They?

The typical American pro sports franchise owner is white, male, ultra-wealthy, and politically active. In 2023, over 85% of majority owners across major leagues fit this profile. They hail from industries like oil, finance, tech, real estate, and private equity. For them, sports ownership is a crown jewel—status symbol, investment vehicle, and policy lever all in one.

Take Jerry Jones (Dallas Cowboys), a former oilman whose estimated net worth exceeds $18 billion. Or the DeVos family (Orlando Magic), who are deeply intertwined with conservative causes, having backed right-wing think tanks and education privatization. Even ostensibly apolitical owners like Robert Kraft (New England Patriots) attend presidential dinners and lobby for tax deals.

The owner’s box is a power seat, not a mere suite.

The Political Scoreboard – Red vs. Blue

Campaign Contributions Tell the Tale

Political action committees (PACs), FEC filings, and dark money channels make clear that sports owners are not neutral. They fund politicians who often act against—or for—interests of working-class communities, many of which are majority Black and Brown.

Owner	Team	Known Political Lean	Notable Contributions
Jerry Jones	Cowboys (NFL)	Republican	Supported Donald Trump, GOP PACs
Robert Kraft	Patriots (NFL)	Mixed	Supported both Obama and Trump
Dan Gilbert	Cavaliers (NBA)	Republican	Funded conservative judicial PACs
Joe Tsai	Nets (NBA)	Conservative-Libertarian	Critic of progressive China policies
Steve Ballmer	Clippers (NBA)	Democrat	Donated to Biden, pro-voting rights orgs
Mark Cuban	Mavericks (NBA)	Centrist	Donated to candidates across spectrum

Source: OpenSecrets, ESPN, and public campaign disclosures

While some, like Ballmer and Cuban, lean progressive, the bulk of owners skew conservative. This alignment has implications beyond tax rates and estate planning—it impacts league stances on issues like police brutality, LGBTQ+ inclusion, and athlete activism.

Taxpayer Stadiums, Public Policy, and Community Displacement

When cities bend over backward to keep or lure a pro team, owners gain leverage. They often demand public financing for stadiums, tax abatements, and infrastructure upgrades. From Atlanta to Oakland, the story repeats: taxpayer dollars flow into luxury sports venues while nearby communities face rising rents and eroding public services.

The Atlanta Braves’ move to suburban Cobb County, a predominantly white and wealthier enclave, illustrates this dynamic. While Black residents of Atlanta’s city core lost access, team executives secured $400 million in public money to build Truist Park.

The irony? These same owners often oppose federal spending on healthcare or housing, but see no contradiction in demanding subsidies for private stadiums.

Black Athletes, White Owners – A Tense Political Marriage

The NFL is 57% African American. The NBA is nearly 74% African American. Yet among majority owners, Michael Jordan remains a rare outlier. In 2023, Jordan sold most of his ownership in the Charlotte Hornets, returning the NBA to all-white majority ownership.

This racial asymmetry raises questions: When Colin Kaepernick kneeled, most owners stayed silent—or worse. When players spoke out after George Floyd’s murder, owners issued sanitized PR statements but kept supporting politicians who opposed police reform.

LeBron James, one of the most politically engaged athletes of his generation, has frequently clashed with NBA owners behind closed doors over voting rights and economic justice. His creation of “More Than A Vote” and push for arenas to serve as polling places was a player-led rebellion against ownership inertia.

The Shadow of the Saudi Public Investment Fund

In 2022, the Saudi Arabian Public Investment Fund (PIF) took global sports ownership into new, controversial territory. From LIV Golf to Newcastle United F.C., the fund has used sports as both a soft power tool and financial diversification play.

What happens if American pro teams become entangled? Already, rumors swirl of sovereign wealth funds circling distressed or expansion franchises. If accepted, this would usher in new geopolitical players—many with abysmal human rights records—into American sports.

African American communities, historically skeptical of foreign influence when tied to exploitation, must consider whether such capital aligns with their values.

Local Politics, Real Impact

Beyond federal politics, owners wield local influence. They lobby mayors, city councils, and zoning boards. Their real estate arms reshape neighborhoods. Their philanthropy shapes nonprofits and local institutions.

For instance, Dan Gilbert has reshaped downtown Detroit, sometimes to the detriment of Black residents displaced by gentrification. In Washington D.C., Ted Leonsis (Wizards and Capitals) recently threatened to move his teams to Virginia unless D.C. invested more in upgrades—this after years of taking public money.

The ability of owners to negotiate these deals, often behind closed doors, bypasses the democratic input of citizens. It’s a quiet form of political autocracy.

Fans as Political Stakeholders

For African American fans, athletes, and local communities, team ownership is not an abstract concept—it’s a force that affects culture, economics, and justice. Yet, few fans consider ownership politics when buying tickets, jerseys, or cable packages.

Imagine if fans did.

• What if Black fans organized boycotts of owners funding anti-Black policies?
• What if HBCUs and their alumni groups created sports analysis platforms that tracked ownership ethics?
• What if collective pressure was placed on leagues to require political transparency from owners?

These are not hypothetical ideas. They are necessary tools for cultural and economic self-determination.

Institutionalizing Ownership Among Us

Ownership matters because power matters. And power without institutional accountability is a threat to democracy—on and off the field.

African American institutions, including HBCUs, churches, and fraternities/sororities, must begin grooming and capitalizing African American ownership in sports. This could take the form of:

1. Athlete Ownership Syndicates: Groups of current and former Black athletes forming investment funds to buy controlling stakes.
2. Community Investment Trusts: Allowing fans and cities to co-own teams or facilities in models similar to the Green Bay Packers.
3. HBCU Sports Ownership Think Tank: A policy lab within HBCUs to train the next generation of sports executives and lobbyists.

Because it’s not just about owning a team—it’s about owning the narrative, the infrastructure, and the equity that defines modern sports.

Lessons from the NBA Bubble

In 2020, as racial protests erupted, the NBA bubble became ground zero for athlete activism. But it also exposed the political calculus of ownership. Some owners encouraged their players to protest. Others quietly discouraged them.

Behind the scenes, players pushed for voting rights funding, police reform donations, and public commitments. They met resistance. Why? Because many owners had supported the very politicians opposing these demands.

This cognitive dissonance is not just hypocrisy—it is structural.

The HBCU Angle

HBCU alumni have always been culture creators, movement builders, and ecosystem architects. From Thurgood Marshall to Oprah Winfrey, from George Fraser to Robert F. Smith, HBCU graduates know how to mobilize collective power. The same must now be done in the arena of sports ownership. Because if HBCUs themselves cannot—or should not—own sports franchises, then their alumni must become strategic vehicles for entering and influencing the sports industrial complex.

This means building out HBCU Alumni Sports Investment Syndicates—regional or national collectives where alumni pool capital, expertise, and influence to buy minority or even majority stakes in teams, leagues, and related infrastructure like arenas, sports tech startups, or media rights.

Imagine:

• A SWAC Syndicate led by Southern, Grambling, and Jackson State alumni investing in minority ownership of a future MLS expansion team.
• A MEAC Alumni Consortium that partners with Black athletes from HBCUs and PWIs to fund stadium revitalization projects with community ownership models.
• A Howard-Spelman-Morehouse Fund focused on acquiring distressed assets in sports media and repositioning them through a Black collegiate lens.

Beyond team ownership, these syndicates could also:

• Create HBCU-backed sports agency firms that prioritize long-term athlete wealth and political education.
• Invest in HBCU-themed sports complexes in major cities that serve as training, development, and media hubs.
• Own naming rights for minor league stadiums and tournaments, embedding HBCU branding into the wider sports economy.

And what better proving ground than HBCU athletics itself? HBCU sports have been chronically underfunded and overlooked by corporate sponsors. Yet they hold immense cultural capital. Alumni ownership groups could also invest directly into elevating HBCU athletic programs: helping fund facilities, media platforms, NIL strategies, and cross-conference branding deals. It’s not about charity—it’s about strategic reinvestment and legacy-building.

The deeper point: African American political power must be institutionalized, not just symbolized. Sports offer one of the few domains where Black excellence is universally acknowledged. But ownership—not just participation—must become the North Star.

So no, your alma mater may never own the Lakers or the Cowboys. But if enough of your fellow alumni think—and organize—like owners, you just might control the next version of them.

This is not just an economic imperative—it’s a political one. Because if ownership determines whose voices are heard, whose interests are protected, and whose visions are realized, then HBCU alumni have no choice but to suit up.

It’s game time.

Scoreboard of Power

When a billionaire owner signs a $500 million stadium deal or drops millions on a political candidate, it’s not just business—it’s political warfare. And African America cannot afford to be just fans in the stands while the real power game is played in boardrooms and ballots.

The politics of your favorite pro sports franchise’s owner does matter. Because behind every logo, there’s a ledger. Behind every chant, there’s a checkbook. And behind every victory parade, there’s a policy decision that affects schools, streets, and opportunity.

Let’s start watching the owners as closely as we watch the games.