The Petes, The OHL, And The $170-Million Question

There is a quieter pressure campaign running underneath Peterborough’s proposed new downtown arena, and it wears a maroon jersey. For all the talk about concerts, tournaments, tourism, downtown revitalization, and economic spin-off, one of the bluntest arguments for building a new Multi-Use Sport and Event Centre is this: what happens to the Peterborough Petes if the city does not build it?

That question landed hard at council. Ontario Hockey League commissioner Bryan Crawford told councillors that the Peterborough Memorial Centre no longer meets the expectations of the league, fans, players, partners, and stakeholders. Asked directly whether Peterborough risks losing its OHL franchise without a new event centre, Crawford’s answer was simple: yes. That is not background noise. That is pressure. And it changes the entire conversation.

Because now the pitch is not just about attracting concerts or building a shinier civic toy downtown. It becomes about whether Peterborough is willing to spend public money to protect one of its most familiar sports institutions. The Petes are not just another tenant. They are woven into the city’s identity. They are the oldest continuously operating team in the OHL. They have history, loyalty, nostalgia, and the kind of brand recognition most local institutions would kill for. They matter. But mattering is not the same thing as math.

And the math deserves a harder look. The Memorial Centre seats roughly 3,700 for hockey, with more possible when standing room is included. The new-arena conversation keeps circling around the idea of a modern OHL-standard building, with 5,000 seats often treated as the benchmark. Maybe that number is a formal line in the sand. Maybe it is a league expectation. Maybe it is simply where junior hockey buildings have moved. Either way, the message is clear enough: the Petes need a better room.

The question is who pays for it. Because the Petes are a business in the practical sense — they sell tickets, sponsorships, suites, merchandise, advertising, and hockey nights out — but they are not a privately owned, for-profit sports franchise in the usual sense. The team is owned by a not-for-profit board of directors, which changes the argument. It also makes the prospect of the Petes contributing meaningfully to the capital cost of a new arena effectively zero. Commissioner Crawford also made it clear the OHL would not be contributing to a capital campaign.

So if the league wants a better building, and the Petes need a better building, but neither the team nor the league is likely to help pay for the better building, the bill does what civic bills always seem to do.

It finds the taxpayer.

In 2023-24, the team announced a record attendance year: 119,747 fans over 34 home games, an average of 3,522 per game. That is excellent support for junior hockey in a city this size. Using current ticket pricing, even a conservative rough estimate puts regular-season gate revenue somewhere in the low millions. Maybe $3 million. Maybe $4 million. More when the team is winning, selling out, adding playoff dates, moving merchandise, selling sponsorships, suites, 50/50 tickets, and corporate packages. That is gross revenue, not profit. Hockey teams are expensive to operate. Staff, travel, equipment, billets, marketing, league costs, game-day operations — it all adds up. But still, this is where the public deserves clarity.

How much do the Petes actually generate? How much do they pay the city? How much does the city make from having them in the building? How much of the new arena business case depends on them staying? And if the OHL is applying pressure, what exactly is the league demanding? Not emotionally. Specifically.

The current arrangement between the Petes and the city was already adjusted in 2017 to improve the team’s financial position. That amended deal allowed the Petes to keep more of the revenue they generate, reduced some fees, changed advertising revenue sharing, gave the team five per cent of gross food and beverage sales at home games, and included one-time contributions to reduce operating costs. At the time, it was reported the Petes would receive about $315,000 more in arena revenues, while the city had been averaging about $1 million annually from Petes-related revenue streams such as parking, food and beverage, and ticket sales.

So yes, the city makes money from the Petes lease and from the Petes being in the building. But that does not mean the building itself makes money. The Memorial Centre still loses roughly $500,000 annually overall, even with the Petes as the anchor tenant. That is the uncomfortable part of the equation. The best tenant in the building helps the numbers. It does not save them.

And if the Petes left, the problem would not simply be a few empty hockey dates on the calendar. The loss of the Petes would weaken the entire building. It would remove the anchor tenant, reduce regular traffic, hurt concessions, parking, advertising, sponsorship value, and the building’s general relevance. The Peterborough Lakers, who also rely on the building’s viability and atmosphere, would almost certainly feel the impact. Lose the Petes, and the Lakers could eventually be pulled into the same downward current.

That is how the spiral begins. Fewer anchor events. Less revenue. Less public interest. Higher operating losses. Less reason for private partners or investors to see opportunity. More deferred maintenance. A building that already loses money becomes even harder to justify, harder to market, and harder to rescue.

The facility is caught in a downward cycle from which there may be no short- or medium-term escape.

That is the strongest argument for the new arena.

Not the glossy talk about vibrancy. Not the dream of more concerts. Not the idea that a building can magically summon hotel bookings and restaurant receipts by existing.

The strongest argument is that the current building may be aging out of its own economic usefulness, and if the Petes leave, the decline accelerates.

But even that argument deserves to be stated honestly.

Because what Peterborough is really being asked to decide is not whether it likes the Petes. Of course it does. It is being asked whether keeping the Petes, protecting the Lakers, replacing the Memorial Centre, and preventing the old building from sliding further into financial trouble is worth taking on a $57++ million municipal commitment toward a $170-million project. (read “Build it and they might come” for a real cost breakdown)

That is a much more honest question than “do you support downtown revitalization?”

So Peterborough has already helped make the numbers work once. Now the ask is much larger. Not a better lease. Not a tweak to revenue sharing. A $170-million new building. And that is where the civic romance starts to run into the civic invoice.

If the Petes are essential to the city’s identity, then council should say so plainly. If keeping the Petes is one of the central reasons for the new arena, then stop hiding it behind consultant language about multi-use flexibility and regional destination potential. Just say it: we are building this, in part, because we believe losing the Petes would be unacceptable. That would at least be honest.

But honesty requires the next question: how much is that worth? Is keeping an OHL team worth tens of millions in public debt? Maybe some residents would say yes. They grew up at the Memorial Centre. They took their kids there. They remember playoff nights, anthem nights, draft picks, fights, heartbreaks, championships, and the warm civic glow that comes from believing your city still belongs on a bigger map. Others will look at housing, taxes, infrastructure, homelessness, road work, transit, and aging public facilities and ask why junior hockey gets to move to the front of the line. That is not anti-Petes. That is pro-math.

Because once the city commits to this project, the debt belongs to everyone. Not just season-ticket holders. Not just hockey fans. Not just people who think a new arena will save downtown. Everyone. And if the Petes are part of the justification, then the Petes should be part of the disclosure.

Show the lease. Show the revenue split. Show the city’s net return. Show the projected rent in the new building. Show whether the Petes would pay more, less, or roughly the same. Show whether the team gets luxury-suite revenue, signage revenue, concession revenue, parking revenue, or preferred-use terms. Show what happens to the Memorial Centre if the Petes leave. Show what the operating loss becomes without them. Show how exposed the Lakers are if the building’s anchor tenant disappears.

Because those are not side questions.

Those are the scoreboard.

The OHL has every right to want better facilities. The Petes have every right to want a modern home. Fans have every right to want the team protected. But taxpayers have every right to ask what they are buying, especially if neither the team nor the league is putting capital money into the pot.

A new arena may make sense. Keeping the Petes may be worth fighting for. A modern 5,000-seat venue may be the price of staying in the OHL club. But if that is the deal, then Peterborough should stop pretending this is only about concerts, conventions, and downtown foot traffic. This is also about hockey, building economics, and preventing the existing facility from falling into a deeper hole.

And if hockey is helping drive a $170-million public project, then hockey should have to open its books enough for the public to see the scoreboard. Because “save the Petes” may be a powerful argument. So may “save the Lakers.” So may “replace a failing building before it becomes an even bigger liability.”

But none of that is a business case.

Not by itself.