Packers bossman is happy football is back - Ingles

'Back to Football." The sign hanging on Green Bay's iconic Lambeau Field carries special meaning this year. The Packers are back to defend a Super Bowl title—and they almost didn't get the chance, after a five-month labor dispute locked out the players and ended only three weeks ago.

Before evening practice, kids line up to lend their bikes to players to ride over to the training field, a Green Bay tradition dating back to the Bart Starr era. The chatter around the field concerns the latest trades and signings made in a flurry of personnel moves since labor peace returned. And perhaps above all, here and in other NFL towns, the very sight of training camp brings a sigh of relief to all footballdom.

"There is more interest now this time of year in the NFL than we've ever had before," says Mark Murphy, president and chief executive of the Packers. Suggest that all this drama might have been good for the NFL, and you get an uneasy and knowing smile. Mr. Murphy, a fit 56, has the unique distinction of having participated in the last three big NFL labor showdowns, as a player, a union leader and now as an executive. He looks relieved to move on.

During this go-round, Mr. Murphy served with nine other team owners on the league's bargaining committee. Nearly 30 years ago, he was a Pro Bowl safety for the Washington Redskins who led players into the 1982 strike, which cost half the season. Jack Kent Cooke, then-owner of the Redskins, called him "a communist." Five years later, he was a law student and senior officer with the players union during the 1987 strike, another bitter fight over money.

Mr. Murphy makes no apologies for his rabble-rousing youth. The labor disputes of the 1980s, he says, paved the way for free agency, mega-contracts, pensions and health benefits that players now enjoy. Since then the NFL has thrived like no sports league anywhere. But age and a new job brings perspective.

"When you're younger and you're a player, I think things are more black and white," he says. "Now I have a greater appreciation for, number one, how difficult it is to run and manage and lead a franchise. We want to ensure that the game continues to be healthy."

This year's fight produced an imperfect deal for both sides. In the compromise, the owners got a hard salary cap and additional revenue they can invest in, among other pressing needs, new stadium infrastructure. But teams are now obliged to spend nearly all the salary cap each year. The players shot down plans to add two games to the regular season, and they won limits on offseason workouts and full-contact practices. In a win for everyone, the new contract will run a decade, twice as long as before.

"It was nowhere near as acrimonious as in '82 and '87," says Mr. Murphy. "I guess the one thing that I learned [back then] is that nobody benefits when it gets personal."

The NFL has avoided the pitfalls that other leagues have fallen into. Baseball still hasn't recovered from the labor and steroid scandals of the past two decades. Basketball is bracing for a work stoppage this fall. The NBA has global appeal and megastars, but a dozen of its franchises are perennial losers on the court and as businesses. The NFL prides itself on parity among its teams.

Yet ultimately peace in the NFL depends on the ability of the $9 billion pie of revenue to keep growing at the recent pace of roughly 10% a year. The fastest way to boost income is to televise additional games. Hence the idea of an 18-game regular season, which the players agreed to revisit in two years. Mr. Murphy says the upside is "pretty substantial," about $500 million a year, so the union may want to think again.

The Packers are the NFL's only publicly owned franchise, and the only one whose books are open to scrutiny. It's also the only small-town team left over from football's leatherhead era of the Duluth Eskimos and Pottsville Maroons. Founded in 1919, Green Bay's team even retains its original name, acquired from its first sponsor, the Indian Packing Company. Its loyal fan base has more than once rescued it and kept it in town. "The Packers have always had to worry about their survival," says Paul Tagliabue, who was NFL commissioner until 2006. "In most enterprises, that's a healthy feature. I don't think they've ever become complacent."

Now it's Mr. Murphy's turn to ensure the team stays viable and competitive. He wears a tie a shade of Redskins burgundy and smiles to reveal a gap in his teeth worthy of legendary Packers Coach Vince Lombardi. He arrived in late 2007, in time to take heat for the retirement, unretirement and unpopular trade of Brett Favre, the veteran Packers quarterback. He inherited a respected general manager and coach, and three seasons later new QB Aaron Rodgers brought a fourth Super Bowl win to the self-described Titletown. Thinking back to the Favre saga, Mr. Murphy deadpans, "I am really glad that Aaron has turned out to be such a good quarterback."

As a business, the Packers good run is relatively recent. In the early 1990s, the NFL conventional wisdom was that it and other small-market teams might not survive the era of free agency. The team was at the bottom of the league tables in revenue and its own projections had it being dead last by 2005. The immediate fix came with a taxpayer-funded renovation of Lambeau Field, which was built in 1957. Luxury sky boxes arrived. A new atrium houses Curly's Pub and the Packers Hall of Fame. These tourist draws make the stadium a year-round business. Mr. Murphy, who earned an MBA during his playing days, oversaw the construction of a warehouse to expand retail operations. The website was also redone to boost e-sales of Packer gear to fans beyond Green Bay. The Packers now sell the most jerseys of any team in the NFL.

At the annual shareholders meeting at Lambeau last month, the team reported a 9% rise in revenues and healthy profits (though it's a nonprofit). "The largest impact there was winning the Super Bowl," says Mr. Murphy, who calls the Packers "small market but large revenue." "The hard part" of running a sports franchise, adds Jason Wied, the vice president for administration, "is the ebb and flow of on-field performance. We budget for 8-8," a .500 season. Just in case, the team has a rainy-day fund of $127.5 million.

The NFL's salary cap and revenue sharing assure a level playing field only to a point. The pay of coaches and front office officials isn't capped. Teams can attract players with good facilities. And who knows how long the NFL will keep the current system? Some big-market owners envy the ability of the Yankees or Lakers to dominate their leagues competitively and financially. Now in 13th place in terms of revenue, the Packers pay into the league's sharing scheme, but they may fall back down that list if the NFL finally puts a team in L.A., the country's second largest media market, or others build new stadiums with lots of new money-churning premium seats.

Concerns over the safety of the game and the long-term effects of concussions and other serious injuries are another management headache. The NFL has tried new equipment and banned dangerous hits to protect players—none more than the kings of the modern game, quarterbacks. "There are some plays," says Mr. Murphy, "where I watch it as a former safety and say, 'Boy, that's a great play!' And there's a flag and a penalty. It's changing how you play the game."

But there are complications. Players are reluctant to report concussions and lose playing time. To gain a speed advantage, Mr. Murphy adds, most players today only wear a helmet and shoulder pads. In his day, thigh, knee and hip pads were universal.

Some suggest radical solutions like widening the field or limiting substitutions. Or, notes Mr. Murphy, removing players' facemasks. He doesn't endorse the idea but notes that in the old days "players tackled with their shoulders" since the facemask wasn't available as a weapon. He adds, "then you'd have a lot of people with broken noses and that's another set of problems."

Bad publicity about safety scares kids, or their mothers, away from the game. Players are future fans. NFL executives recently created a youth football fund to promote the game. Looking down the road, the league should also look with concern at the rise in youth obesity and nonathletic digital distractions.

The health of the college game directly impacts the NFL, too. High-profile recruiting scandals have brought calls to pay college players, which the NCAA is considering. "I worry over time that some fans may look at it and say everyone is cheating," and turn away from the game as a whole, says Mr. Murphy.

Complicating the NFL's growth outlook, football fans in America are a zero-growth demographic. Hispanics, the expanding segment of the U.S. population, love soccer and baseball. The NFL broadcasts games in Spanish and even celebrates a Hispanic heritage month. The franchises in Texas are reaching out to them most aggressively, and claim to have made some headway.

And the NFL has had limited success trying to popularize the game abroad. The Packers may be a strong enough brand name—like the Boston Celtics or Manchester United—that executives think they can travel and win fans overseas. But most likely the league will have to find new ways to squeeze money out of a saturated American sports marketplace.

Mr. Murphy took an unusual journey through football and beyond to this spot. Coming out of Colgate University in 1977, he was passed over in the NFL draft. George Allen signed him for the Redskins, where he spent his career. Tom Landry, coach of the rival Cowboys, once implored his players that "I can outrun Murphy." The slowness of his feet was exaggerated, and he started on the great Redskins teams, including the 1983 Super Bowl winner.

Cut in 1985, he claimed then that he was singled out for his union activity. He's not bitter now. "The reality is, you know, for players it doesn't end the way they would want. And it always ends sooner than they would want. Probably more so now because of the money." He doesn't need to mention Brett Favre.

Mr. Murphy says he's glad he got out without any serious injury, and these days he gets to soak up the adulation in Green Bay. Speaking to cheering shareholders last month, he said "I don't know about you, but I felt a little shortchanged in terms of our celebration" since the league's labor trouble came just days after the Packers' Super Bowl win.

The NFL gave the Packers an exemption to hold their ring ceremony in June during the lockout. "It was a little odd," he says, "but I think everybody really enjoyed it." The after-party was held at Hinterland, a hip restaurant and wine bar whose menu includes a $224 Cabernet Sauvignon from the California vineyard of star Packers cornerback Charles Woodson. The team kept the place open well past the legal hour, says the bartender: "You won't find a policeman in this town who would have shut that party down." (source WSJ.com)