Originally published at abqjournal.com on October 18, 2025.
Jeff Tucker is right about one thing: New Mexico needs to think big.
His recent call for a billion-dollar NBA arena in Albuquerque is exactly the kind of visionary thinking our state has lacked for decades. But where Tucker sees an opportunity for government to build a stadium, I see something far more powerful: a chance for a tribal nation to own and operate New Mexico’s first major league franchise.
Suppose we’re serious about transforming the state’s economy. In that case, we should look not to taxpayer-funded stadiums but to tribal-led partnerships that align with New Mexico’s history, sovereignty and entrepreneurial spirit. I’ve written before about the power of tribal sovereignty as a tool for economic development. In my analysis of Tesla’s partnership with Nambé and Santa Ana pueblos, I argued that tribes can serve as economic facilitators, creating opportunities that restrictive state laws prevent.
Originally published at abqjournal.com on October 18, 2025.
That same principle applies here. For too long, tribes have been treated as exceptions to state policy rather than as co-equal governments and business partners. Yet tribal nations have proven themselves capable of managing billion-dollar gaming, hospitality and manufacturing enterprises. If Disney can run its own improvement district in Florida, and Delaware can dominate corporate law nationwide, then surely a sovereign tribal nation can own a professional sports team.
Imagine a professional baseball franchise owned by a consortium of tribes, such as the Navajo Code Talkers, playing in a privately financed arena on sovereign land within the Albuquerque metro area. Such a venture wouldn’t just draw fans; it would keep profits, jobs and tax revenue circulating within New Mexico’s borders.
Unlike state-funded stadiums, a tribal-owned franchise would rely on investment, not subsidies. It would build on the model that’s already worked: Tribal enterprises that compete in national markets while reinvesting profits into housing, education and health care. The same sovereignty that allows tribes to manage casinos, tourism and renewable energy can sustain a major sports operation.
Deb Haaland, the former U.S. secretary of the Interior and now a candidate in New Mexico’s 2026 governor’s race, understands this better than anyone. As an enrolled member of the Laguna Pueblo, she has spent her career advocating for tribal self-determination and economic empowerment. If she becomes governor, she could help facilitate the partnerships needed between tribal governments, private investors and professional leagues to make such a vision a reality.
A tribal-owned franchise wouldn’t just be a symbol of cultural pride; it would be a practical demonstration of self-governance in action, a living embodiment of what I and others have called “tribes as nations.” It would show the country that tribal sovereignty isn’t just a legal concept; it’s an engine of innovation.
For decades, professional sports teams have appropriated Native imagery while excluding Native ownership. The Washington Redskins, Cleveland Indians and countless high school mascots reduced tribal heritage to logos and caricatures. The antidote to that isn’t erasure; it’s empowerment.
The next great American sports story shouldn’t be about a team named after Native Americans. It should be about a team they own. A tribally owned MLB franchise would demonstrate that sovereignty and capitalism are not opposing forces but complementary ones. It would diversify New Mexico’s economy, attract national attention and give our young people something to cheer for.
Let’s think big, as Jeff Tucker says. But let’s think smarter. Let’s build an arena on sovereign soil, not public debt. Let’s bring major league sports to New Mexico the same way Tesla brought electric vehicles here: through tribal leadership, innovation and freedom from government interference.