Alright, what say you, Toledo?
Now that we’ve had a month to chew on new names for the likely soon-to-be-rebranded Glass Bowl, what should it be?
The Libbey Glass Bowl? Safelite AutoGlass Bowl? Owens Corning Field at the Glass Bowl? The Bowl of Glass presented (and eaten) by Chuck Norris?
How about another Fifth Third (5/3) Field in town, which would give us MACtion at the Fraction?
Or maybe — with due respect to SoFi Stadium in Los Angeles — Sofo Stadium, just in time for the Italian Bowl?
You tell me!
At least, it’s interesting to think about.
Our Toledo beat writer, Kyle Rowland, has an excellent story today detailing why the University of Toledo is taking the naming rights to the Glass Bowl to market and what it might command.
I’m just as curious here about what the name will — or ought to — be.
My two cents is ... well, about a billion pennies short of having much of a say here.
Still, let me say two things: I’m all for the university exploring new revenue streams; and, unless Elon Musk is willing to make Toledo a Godfather offer to rebrand the iconic home of the Rockets as SpaceX Stadium, the Glass Bowl should remain in the name (think GEHA Field at Arrowhead Stadium, as the Chiefs rechristened their famed venue in 2021).
So far, we have few hints which way the winds of change are blowing, beyond athletic director Bryan Blair telling us any new partnership will need to “make a lot of sense” — Smirnoff Stadium at Marlboro Field presented by Falcon Crypto reportedly missed the cut — and a notable clause in the contract between UT and Oak View Group, the Hollywood-based sports and entertainment company enlisted to help find the Glass Bowl a lucrative new name.
According to the services agreement, UT will owe OVG an annual commission of 15 percent if the naming rights go for $900,000 or less per year, 20 percent if they go for more.
There’s just one exception: If the sponsorship ends up being with Rocket Companies — the Rocket Mortgage Glass Bowl? — the commission is only 2.5 percent. (UT has previously talked to Rocket about naming the Glass Bowl, so paying OVG full boat here would be like a camel paying for help finding sand.)
We’ll see.
If you’re still conflicted about all of this, I appreciate that.
Even in an ever-corporatized of stadium names, it’s jarring to imagine the Glass Bowl with a new name.
This isn’t an NFL team slapping a new bank name on its 15-year-old stadium. This is personal.
The Glass Bowl is quintessentially Toledo, a tribute to the city’s glass manufacturing roots and the ambitions of its hometown university.
A brief history ...
Built in 1936 as a Works Progress Administration Project, the stadium got its name a decade later after a sparking renovation at the heart of a big-dreaming plan to transform UT into a national football contender.
At the time, Toledo was known as one of the great prep football factories in the country — Scott and Waite won six mythical national championships between World Wars I and II — but its production line hadn’t translated to success for the Rockets.
The local movers and shakers wanted to change that.
In 1946, the then-11,500-seat stadium was rebuilt — replete with an electric glass scoreboard, a two-tier glass press box, and lights — and the Glass Bowl was dedicated that December at none other than the ... Glass Bowl, the bowl game America didn’t know it needed.
The pomp-filled bowl was intended to capture the attention of the nation, sure, but, more important, it was to impress the high school stars of northwest Ohio. The big glass companies who underwrote the event even pledged to begin paying such prospects (legally, of course!).
“We are tired of seeing fine young fellows like our own Bob Chappuis (DeVilbiss) winning fame at Michigan,” a glass executive told columnist Pat Robinson of the International News Service, one of the many national outlets that covered the inaugural Glass Bowl, a 21-12 Rockets win over Bates College before a sold-out crowd of 12,000. “We are going to give our football players jobs. They will be real jobs, not sinecures.
“We will give them a chance to learn something of the glass industry while they are going to college and when they graduate, we’ll have good jobs ready for them.”
Robinson concluded: “With a plan like that in operation, it won’t be long before Toledo will be able to play Army, Notre Dame or any other team on an even footing.”
Alas, it was not to be.
Toledo never quite became a national power and the Glass Bowl postseason game lasted only four years.
But just the same, the stonewalled stadium became a revered part of our community, filling over the years with millions of fans and just as many memories, none more magical than the three seasons of perfection submitted by Chuck Ealey and his indomitable Rockets teammates.
It endures as a civic hub of autumn.
And, yes, in a perfect world, it would always be the Glass Bowl, the name grandfathered in for eternity. (Worth noting: There are 45 Division I football stadiums older than the Glass Bowl. Only two of them have added a corporate name. Washington’s Husky Stadium became Alaska Airlines Field at Husky Stadium in 2015 and San Jose State’s Spartan Stadium became the rolls-off-the-tongue Citizens Equity First Credit Union Stadium in 2016.)
Unfortunately, spoiler: It’s not a perfect world.
I don’t need to tell you that even the best-run athletic departments in the Mid-American Conference lose north of $15 million per year on athletics, with the deficits offset by huge student fees and subsidies from the universities and taxpayers.
When I wrote a to-do list for the next Toledo AD before Blair was hired, I listed the need to generate new revenue and floated the possibility of selling the Glass Bowl naming rights.
I’m not about to throw stones in the Glass Bowl now.
If Toledo can find a sensible partner — preferably a local company that embraces keeping Glass Bowl in the name — it should go for it.
First Published April 15, 2023, 11:30 a.m.
