The problem with Sports franchises is that it's all about the owners

Despite winning a gold medal at this year’s Commonwealth Games, netball in New Zealand is at a crossroads. Netball New Zealand will lose around $6 million this year, with $3.7 million of those losses attributed to the running of the ANZ Premiership. There is no broadcast deal for next season and there has been an exodus of top players. Change seems inevitable, whether it is a privately owned franchise league or rejoining the Australian competition.

If that sounds familiar, it should. New Zealand Cricket spent last year working through the same conversation before settling on a franchise T20 competition. Hockey New Zealand launched a franchise league in 2024. Elsewhere, New Zealand sports franchises play in Australian leagues in basketball, football, and rugby league. There have been calls to sell the Super Rugby competition to private investors.

The decision facing Netball New Zealand therefore marks another moment in the shift in New Zealand sport, from a model built on regional representation and the public good to one based on private ownership and commercial interests.

Reaction to netball’s potential move into private ownership has been largely positive, with emphasis on an injection of cash and commercial expertise. Privatisation is also framed as inevitable, often by those who stand to benefit. But privatisation is a choice and the cash injection is far from free. So, is what is being sold worth the price – and who benefits? 

From public good to commercial product

The privatisation of sport changes its purpose, from a public institution into a commercial product. A nationally governed, regionally representative competition exists, at least officially, to serve the whole game. While representative teams do compete to win national competitions, their governing bodies are also responsible for the health of the sport in the area: strong clubs, growing participation, pathways for future players. These community benefits are often funded by the commercial returns from elite competitions.

A franchise owned by private interests, by contrast, primarily exists to generate a return for those investors. While these owners are invested in growing their fan base, increasing player participation and other social concerns are largely optional, unless they align with commercial interests. Ultimately, under the private ownership model, money generated from the professional game flows into the hands of investors often at the expense of the sport’s broader social purpose.

Sporting cultures and practices also change under the franchise model. Decisions about scheduling and ticket pricing become primarily commercial rather than about broader interests in the sport. These decisions are made by owners answerable to shareholders rather than the communities and clubs who helped build the game. Under a privately owned model, Netball New Zealand would likely lose control over when the tournament is played, which venues it is played in, and who is eligible to play. As sports executive Justin Nelson told The Detail podcast that privatisation was not only inevitable, but sporting bodies needed to “hand [over] the keys”.

For fans and communities, overseas examples suggest that the trade-off may be greater than it first seems. When franchise owners produce sport as an ‘entertainment product’ rather than a sporting competition they risk undermining the authenticity that gives sport its meaning and appeal. Representative teams embody generations of local identities and have a direct connection to the community game; there is pride in seeing players who are members of your club go on to represent their region, even the country.

Under private ownership, that identity is repackaged as a brand and fans are recast as consumers, a market to be maximised rather than a public to be served. Moreover, potential owners are incentivised to buy teams in the most lucrative markets; where a competition run by a national body might ensure that each area is represented, franchise competitions tend to focus on the largest metropolitan areas.

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And as owners’ interests diverge from the interests of fans, it’s fans who absorb the cost, often through maximised ticket prices and ever-changing merchandise. The English Premier League might be one of the world’s premier (and richest) sporting competitions, but ticket prices are pricing fans out of the game. Elite competitions with highly paid athletes and massive broadcast audiences might be glamorous, but they are not necessarily good for the sport and its stakeholders.

Real pressures, but not a done deal

The economic position for New Zealand sporting bodies is genuinely difficult, and there are not easy answers. NZ Cricket recently announced a significant deficit and will reduce the broadcast schedule for its Super Smash competition this summer. New Zealand Rugby’s National Provincial Championship, once regarded as the toughest provincial competition in the world, is now largely semi-professional. Super Rugby Pacific is financially fragile, even with private-equity investors. These economic restrictions have meant that New Zealand’s best athletes increasingly look offshore for higher wages.

Under a model where sporting revenue is primarily determined by the size and value of a broadcast audience, a country of five million people will always struggle against markets many times its size.

For most New Zealand sporting bodies, this has meant chasing the more lucrative Australian market while local competitions serve a largely development purpose, as feeder systems. Such a shift, from a multi-team national competition to one or two franchise teams playing in Australia, reduces the number of New Zealand athletes competing at an elite level – a growing gap between the professional game and the communities that sustain it.

This might appeal to some fans and privately owned teams such as Auckland FC and the New Zealand Warriors, which can certainly attract passionate audiences in Australian competitions. But who benefits? Broadcasters, elite players, and owners, for sure. The impact on other athletes, recreational participants, and communities is not as straightforward.

Private ownership is not inevitable. Nor does it benefit everyone. It’s a choice about who owns the game, who it’s run for, and whose interests count.