The stadium that simply wouldn't die

The last thing you want to read, hear or see is anything more about Real Salt Lake and the never-say-die, soccer-stadium/concert arena.

So this column will not be about The Stadium, because enough is enough already.

However, if I were going to write about The Stadium, which I'm not, I would probably marvel at this fact: Nothing can make it go away. It's made more comebacks than Cher. It's like Dracula: Nobody can kill it.

Not Peter Corroon, the Salt Lake County mayor who said no, then yes, then no.

Not the Salt Lake County Debt Review Committee, which voted unanimously against funding it with public money because, after looking at RSL's business model — which included sell-out games, sell-out concerts and escalating ticket prices — the committee decided the plan had more holes in it than Dennis Rodman.

Not an independent financial consultant's report that said the same thing.

Not a front-page newspaper story that said Get Real to RSL's dreamy plan to put on more than a dozen concerts annually that would sell 17,000 tickets — a feat accomplished in Utah only 11 times in five years.

Not 2 1/2 years of futility of trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together, unsuccessfully, which ought to tell the politicos something but doesn't.

Not polls that show 59 percent of the people are against public funding of the stadium, or that 70 percent of the people supported Corroon's decision last week to reject the use of public funds for the stadium.

This thing is like a bad cold or Hillary Clinton — it refuses to go away. You probably thought Corroon's rejection was the last nail in the coffin. Silly you.

But of course I'm not going to write any more about Real Salt Lake, because we're all sick of hearing about it. This subject is more tired than Brad and Angelina. Aren't you just weary of all things Ray-AL, Ree-al, whatever?

But if I were writing about it, I would marvel at the arrogance of state legislators, who, despite all of the above, are now trying to pull an end-run around county citizens and officials. The county — and taxpayers — overwhelmingly rejected the use of public money (hotel taxes) for the stadium, and yet state legislators and other politicians say they will now try to do exactly that anyway, which is not so much a slap in the county government's face as it is a punch in the mouth.