Chasing the Brass Ring: St. Petersburg’s Bold Gamble on Baseball

In the late 1980s, St. Petersburg set its sights on something big: becoming a Major League Baseball city. The effort took shape during a time of bold civic ambition, long before there was any guarantee the game would ever be played under the Florida sun.

Despite mounting local excitement, the city faced serious skepticism from the top. In a blunt telegram sent to Mayor Edward Cole Jr. and the Pinellas Sports Authority, MLB Commissioner Peter Ueberroth made it clear. St. Petersburg, he wrote, was “not among the top candidates” for expansion or relocation. He warned that building a stadium would be a community choice made “without any encouragement whatsoever on the part of major-league baseball.”

The message hit like a fastball to the ribs. City officials and stadium backers were stunned, and some suspected outside interference. Councilman Bill Bond Jr. claimed that Yankees owner George Steinbrenner had influenced the commissioner’s position, dismissing St. Petersburg as “nothing but a bunch of old folks over there and a rickety bridge to get there.” One unnamed source quoted Steinbrenner saying the city would “need plenty of ramps for the stadium because of all the old people.”

None of it was flattering. But even less welcome was the follow-up from expansion committee member Bill Giles, president of the Phillies, who said outright that St. Pete wouldn’t even crack the top four or five finalists if two new teams were added.

Still, when the time came, St. Petersburg’s City Council didn’t flinch. Amid doubt and dismissal, they listened to their residents. Hundreds had shown up at the public hearing, with many more writing in support. They believed in the stadium plan, and they trusted in the city’s future. With a 6-3 vote, the council approved an $85 million financing plan to build a domed stadium in the Gas Plant area—without a franchise in hand.

It was a gamble. Councilman J.W. Cate Jr., who’d been serving since 1971, put it plainly. “Anyone who says we’re not taking a risk has got his head in the clouds.” But then he offered a memory. As a boy on a merry-go-round, he never had the nerve to reach out for the brass ring. This time, he said, he was reaching.

The stadium vote wasn’t about guarantees. It was about vision. It was about a city that refused to be defined by how others saw it. Instead, it chose to act on its own terms and build something big.

Years would pass before St. Petersburg finally landed a team. But the 1986 vote put things in motion. It showed the city was serious, willing to invest in its future, and ready to take a chance.

They built the dome without promises, stayed persistent, and eventually, baseball came to town.

(PO3739) cutline: Sign proclaiming site of 'The Future Home of Major League Baseball, Pinellas Suncoast Stadium', c1982. Later names Suncoast Dome, Thunderdome, Tropicana Field.