Sadiq Khan is flirting with the NFL – but the romance might not be all rosy

A 2015 game between Miami Dolphins and New York Jets at Wembley Stadium. Image: Getty.

Quietly ruminating, and politically savvy as ever, the mayor of London has been enjoying a hushed round of successes. And in an attempt to build on the successes of the Olympics in 2012 – and as a way to learn from the missed opportunities of those games – Sadiq Khan has set about making London “the sporting capital of the world”.

It’s important to say that his motivations for this are as much personal as political.

“I’ve always loved sport,” he said a few months ago in an interview with ESPN. “I was a keen cricketer, footballer and boxer, and it’s been an important part of my life. I ran in the London Marathon, the best marathon in the world, in 2014 and got fit, lost weight, improved stress level and ran in the same race as Mo Farah.”

Sport matters to London’s 5’6” Mayor, but the Olympics to him didn’t go far enough. “It was squandered,” he said in the same interview. “I feel really strongly about this. We can’t be seen just to be a place where we see the world’s best, the elite, doing sports.”

And while much of his mission is about trying to encourage Londoners to get involved in sports at the grassroots level – the local football team, amateur tennis games, a boxing club round the corner – he’s not ashamed to chase the big guns, to some formidable success.

This year saw an NBA basketball game played at the O2 arena; but it’s the deluge of American Football games has been the most impressive. Both Twickenham and Wembley stadiums are being used for matches – between the Baltimore Ravens and the Jacksonville Jaguars, the New Orleans Saints and the Miami Dolphins, the Arizona Cardinals and Los Angeles Rams, and, on October 29, the Minnesota Vikings and Cleveland Browns.

These games are a huge boon for London, and arguably for the UK as a whole. Football games at which colossal UK flags have been unfurlede alongside the stars and strips have been beamed into the homes of millions of Americans; while crowds have filled stadiums for games at which many will undoubtedly have forked out considerable sums on flights, hotels, meals out and trips to London’s top tourist attractions.

As the protest movement against Donald Trump in American sports – #TakeTheKnee – has grown, part of the phenomenon has been to see American football players stand to listen to God Save The Queen, while kneeling in a solemn and defiant protest for their own anthem.

There’s more: the teams themselves bring extraordinary benefits to the capital in a truly primadonna-esque manner.

Each year, containers are packed up with the supplies that all the NFL teams set to play in London will need for their early autumn season à l’étranger. In 2015, the New York Jets sent over at least 5,000 items, according to the New York Times, with everything from practical gauze pads and wrist pads to extension cords and cereal and even – yes, really – 350 rolls of toilet paper. (Apparently our stuff is too thin.)

Wembley Stadium, where many NFL games have taken place. Image: Rob

Of course, much of the benefit from such a ludicrous shipping operation falls on their side of the pond.

But the team also employed an industrial launderer to collect their dirty training kit at one location, wash it, and deliver it to another. They also flew a chef from their London hotel over to New York to teach them what and how the team eats – and how their food is prepared – over at Jets HQ.

Officials from the team made two trips to London before the team even set off, visiting hotels and practice sites, planning what would work best for the Jets.

All this bizarre activity suggests that London’s  and the Treasury’s – coffers will enjoy some kind of uptick. But as Sadiq’s international sporting ambitions expand – he wants to host an NFL franchise in London – he would do well to keep a cautious eye on the past.

Tech giants like Amazon and Apple know they can extract vast concessions from cities – like Amazon seeking a home for their second North American headquarters, knowing they can milk deal-sweeteners from cities by staging a ‘bidding’ process, and as Apple knows they can wipe the floor with planning conventions as the city of Cupertino, CA’s largest taxpayer. In the same way, NFL teams know that they have huge power over the cities they allege to call home.

In 1995, the Cleveland Browns upped sticks almost overnight and moved to Baltimore – known in ominous tones as ‘The Move’. Team owner Art Modell had signed a deal with the city of Cleveland, whereby he gave the city a portion of his annual profits in exchange for eventual ownership of the stadium. The Cleveland Indians – another local baseball team – protested that they had no share in revenues, despite much of the stadium’s funds being generated during their games as much as during the Browns’, and promptly appealed to the city for their own facility.

As a result, the stadium lost vast sums – Modell claims up to $21m between 1993 and 1994 – and Art Modell asked for $175m of public money to refit Cleveland Stadium. Before the issue was ever settled, he had announced the move to Baltimore. The day after the announcement, Clevelanders approved the vast sum in a vote.


Though the most infamous of the NFL teams’ arm-twisting, ‘The Move’ is not the only instance of teams extracting concessions, exceptions, and public money from cities in order to preserve their continued allegiance.

If London is going to end up hosting a franchise, then it will need to particularly wary of such cynical tactics. It’s likely that London voters would not look kindly on rules being bent for an American Football team, let alone of serious taxpayers’ money being spent on any such arrangement.

Sadiq Khan must play a careful juggling game – knowing how to fruitfully harvest the NFL money tree, without ever spending too much on watering it.

Not so much the brutish clashing of an American Football game, perhaps, as a rather more shrewd game of chess. 

Jack May is a regular contributor to CityMetric and tweets as @JackO_May.

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How US planners experimented with “the iron hand of power” over colonial Manila

Manila in ruins, 1945. Image: Wikimedia Commons.

In 1904, Manila must have appeared to its new overlords a despairing prospect. Racked with poverty and disease, it was still recovering from years of war, epidemic and a fire that had left 8,000 homeless.

For architect Daniel Burnham, it was an opportunity to put to work the radical ideas he had dreamed of in America.

He was among those asking how America’s unprecedented wealth at the turn of the century could be reconciled with the lives of the country’s poorest. Like many, he admired the ideas of harmonised city-planning articulated in Edward Bellamy’s bestselling science-fiction Looking Backward (1888).

At the 1893 World’s Columbian Exposition in Chicago, Burnham constructed the “White City”. Built across 686 acres of parkland, boulevards, gardens and neoclassical structures rendered a spray-painted plaster vision of the future – all laid out to one comprehensive plan.

It was impressive – but implementing grand designs where people actually lived meant laborious negotiations with citizens, businessmen and politicians.

Instead, opportunity lay in America’s new overseas territories. As Daniel Immerwahr describes in How to Hide an Empire: A Short History of the Greater United States, “They functioned as laboratories, spaces for bold experimentation where ideas could be tried with practically no resistance, oversight, or consequences.”

An architect’s dream

The US had gone to war with Spain in 1898, taking advantage of an empire-wide insurrection. It ended up controlling the entire Philippines, along with Guam and Puerto Rico.

As a “territory”, the Philippines existed outside the protections of the constitution. Congress could impose any law, proclaimed the attorney general in 1901, “without asking the consent of the inhabitants, even against their consent and against their protest, as it has frequently done.”

Which is how Burnham, upon invitation by the Philippine’s new rulers, came to wield what the Architectural Record called “the iron hand of power” over Manila.

 Burnham’s plan for Manila. Click to expand.

Where Burnham’s Chicago plan was complex, took years and entailed collaboration with hundreds of citizens, Burnham spent six months on the Manila plan, and just six weeks in the Philippines. And with no voters to persuade, there seemed little reason to register Filipino input in his designs.

In 1905 Burnham submitted his Report on Improvement of Manila. It described filling the toxic moat of the Spanish fortress Intramuros and developing a rectangular street system modelled on Washington D.C., with diagonal arteries which even Chicago lacked.


Central to his plan was the city’s beautification through monumental buildings, waterfront improvements, and parks – “wholesome resorts” to “give proper means of recreation to every quarter of the city”

Burnham charged William E. Parsons as the omnipotent “Consultant Architect” to interpret his plan, who relished its authority over all public building as an “architect’s dream”. When concerned with the extent of his purview, he also chose to standardise a number of public buildings.

“I doubt if this method would bear fruit in our own city improvement plans, in which everything depends on slow moving legislative bodies,” reported the Architectural Record’s correspondent.

Despite Burnham’s colonial sentiments his biographer concluded his plan was “remarkable in its simplicity and its cognizance of Philippine conditions and traditions.”

His plans did not shy from asserting the colonial government’s authority, however. The Luneta, a favourite park, was to become the nuclei of government. The city’s avenues would converge there, for “every section of the Capitol City should look with deference toward the symbol of the Nation’s power.”

Unusual monumental possibilities

Burnham also worked on a summer palace for US administrators at Baguio, 150 miles north in the mountains. On land inhabited by Igorot people, Burnham saw an opening “to formulate my plans untrammelled by any but natural conditions”.

Baguio’s “unusual monumental possibilities” were facilitated by a road whose construction employed thousands, risking death from disease and falling off cliffs. Civic buildings would “dominate everything in sight” and a golf course would rival those of Scotland.

“Stingy towards the people and lavish towards itself,” griped La Vanguardia, the government “has no scruples nor remorse about wasting money which is not its own.”

As enthusiasm for US empire soured in the States, local power was relinquished to Filipinos. Parsons resigned in protest in 1914. He was replaced by Manila-born Juan Arellano, whose rebuke to imperialists was the mighty, neoclassical Legislative Building which hosted the elected Philippine Legislature. Arellano upheld Burnham’s plan, producing a beautified city bearing resemblance to Burnham’s White City.

But the Legislative Building, along with Burnham’s great edifices and almost everything else in Manila, was levelled as US troops recaptured it in 1945, this time ousting the Japanese in a brutal battle. “Block after bloody block was slowly mashed into an unrecognizable pulp”, recorded the 37th Infantry Division as they exercised their own “iron hand” over Manila.

American artillery had transformed Manila into ruins. “It was by far the most destructive event ever to take place on US soil,” writes Immerwahr, even if few soldiers realised they were liberating US nationals at the time. Burnham’s expansive vision was lost in the debris, and though some buildings were rebuilt a majority were replaced. Today, Manila’s pre-war architecture is remembered with fondness and nostalgia.