$38 million: Payroll Loria dumped by the end of July by shipping off Hanley Ramirez. Before the season, the Marlins owner upped their payroll to $95 million to help pay for stars Jose Reyes and Mark Buehrle and Manager Ozzie Guillen. The spree came after being shamed by leaked financial documents showing he'd banked nearly $50 million in profit while pleading poverty. How? By taking the millions that richer baseball teams share with minnows like the Marlins and then putting them in his wallet instead of buying new sluggers. So much for the new Loria. With the season slipping, he shipped Ramirez, ace pitcher Anibal Sanchez, hot second-baseman Omar Infante, and set-up guy Edward Mujica out of town. Even worse, he's already promised that next year's team budget will be even lower.
$90 million: Increased value of the Marlins franchise this year, according to Forbes. If you pass through Southampton, New York, this fall and hear an ear-shattering cackling coming from a massive mansion, don't worry: It's just Loria rolling around naked in giant piles of cash. The team he bought for $158 million in 2002 is now worth $450 million, by Forbes' reckoning.
Well, at least the stadium looks nice...
Location Info
Related Content
More About
One: Protests by anti-Castro groups outside Marlins Park. After Guillen decided to celebrate his move to Little Havana by telling Time magazine he "respects" El Comandante, almost 200 hardliners wailed into megaphones and waved flags outside the team's second homestand.
52: Times that Red Grooms' eyeball-scorching sculpture in center field — nicknamed the "Tremenda Mierda Fountain" by New Times readers in an online poll — erupted with water spouts and flailing dolphins for Marlins home runs (as of Monday). Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that the Fish were 25th out of 30 teams in homers.
$2.4 billion: Estimated total cost to taxpayers, including ballooning interest rates, for Marlins Park.
Back at the team's penultimate home game last month, after the Marlins' final batter obediently grounded out to second to end another dismal night, black-clad fans shuffled toward the exits, happy at least to have gotten a bobblehead out of the game.
Locals have a hard time finding the good in the giant silver-and-white elephant looming over their blue-collar blocks, though. As the season winds down, residents like Ines Machado — who for 35 years has lived in a two-story home a block north of the stadium — can hardly turn a blind eye to the taxpayer-bleeding succubus looming outside her window. "I used to charge $70 a car to park on my lawn for Orange Bowl games. This place?" she says, gesturing at the ballpark. "This place has done nothing for us."