David Rubenstein might be one of the most successful businessmen in America, but every time the Baltimore Orioles owner opens his mouth to discuss his baseball franchise, he seems to demonstrate just how little he understands the people who care about it most.

And his latest comments might be the most revealing yet.

Speaking Thursday at the Economic Club of Washington, D.C., Rubenstein acknowledged that owning a professional sports franchise hasn’t been quite the experience he expected.

“It’s not as easy as I thought,” Rubenstein said, according to Rich Dubroff of BaltimoreBaseball.com.

Really?

Try being an Orioles fan for the past four decades.

Try enduring 14 consecutive losing seasons, repeated rebuilds, the dismantling of competitive rosters and an ownership family that too often treated one of baseball’s proudest franchises like a personal possession.

Try watching a team that once represented the gold standard of professional baseball struggle to regain its place among the sport’s elite.

Then, just when a new generation of talented young players appeared capable of restoring the franchise’s glory, watch the organization squander much of that momentum.

That’s hard.

Owning the team with billions of dollars in personal wealth to cushion the disappointment? Baltimore fans probably aren’t going to offer much sympathy.

But Rubenstein’s comments about the difficulty of ownership weren’t even the most troubling part of his appearance.

His remarks about money, philanthropy and the emotional investment of sports fans exposed a disconnect that should concern everyone who cares about the Orioles.

David Rubenstein admits making money was an attraction of sports ownership

Rubenstein, who co-founded the private equity giant Carlyle Group, acknowledged that watching other wealthy investors profit from professional sports helped spark his interest in buying a franchise.

As Dubroff reported from Thursday’s event, Rubenstein said friends who purchased teams were earning more than he was in private equity.

He initially viewed ownership as a financial opportunity, although he insisted his eventual purchase of the Orioles was motivated by philanthropy.

There’s nothing inherently wrong with making money from owning a professional sports franchise. But for Baltimore Orioles fans, the franchise has always represented something far more meaningful than a financial investment.

“Owners always wanted to make money, but today it’s only about the money — for players and owners,” said lifelong Orioles fan Paul Ciecwierz.

A successful Baltimore-area wealth manager, Ciecwierz grew up in Dundalk, one of the city’s proudest blue-collar communities. Like generations of fans throughout Baltimore and its surrounding neighborhoods, he fell asleep listening to Orioles games on a transistor radio during the franchise’s glory years of the late 1960s and early 1970s.

Back then, winning baseball felt like a birthright. The Orioles were perennial contenders, and fans expected ownership to understand that the team belonged to the community in ways that went far beyond the balance sheet.

“If the owner doesn’t understand fan interest, he doesn’t understand who is making him richer,” Ciecwierz said. “If this is how he thinks, he should go back to running his PE fund instead of trying to understand fans. Owners are only concerned about making money while fans are only concerned about winning.”

The Orioles are a business. They must generate revenue, operate efficiently and remain financially sustainable.

But that’s precisely what Rubenstein seems to be missing.

The Baltimore Orioles aren’t just another asset in a billionaire’s investment portfolio. They’re a civic institution, built on generations of loyalty from fans who measure success in victories and championships, not investment returns.

The franchise has produced three World Series championships, six American League pennants and some of the most beloved players in baseball history.

That legacy doesn’t appear on a balance sheet.

And it cannot be measured solely by the appreciation of an ownership stake.

Rubenstein may have purchased control of the Orioles in a transaction valued at approximately $1.7 billion.

But he didn’t purchase the emotional investment that Baltimore fans have made in the franchise for more than 70 years.

He inherited responsibility for it.

That’s a distinction he needs to understand.

The most damning admission: Rubenstein doesn’t understand why fans care so much

Of everything Rubenstein said Thursday, this might be the most astonishing revelation.

According to BaltimoreBaseball.com’s account of his remarks, the Orioles owner admitted that he struggled to understand why fans become so emotionally invested in their hometown teams.

His explanation centered on the fact that fans don’t personally receive financial rewards or championship trophies when their teams win.

Think about that.

The man who owns the Baltimore Orioles apparently needed to study professional sports ownership to understand why people love the Baltimore Orioles.

He doesn’t seem to grasp that for many fans, sports are about far more than winning and losing.

They’re about family traditions, civic pride, childhood memories and shared experiences that connect generations.

They’re about fathers and daughters attending their first games together. They’re about grandparents telling stories of the 1966 World Series. They’re about the roar of Camden Yards when the Orioles finally returned to postseason baseball after years of disappointment.

Baltimore fans don’t need a financial incentive to care about their team.

They care because it’s their team.

And frankly, anyone who needs that explained to them might be poorly suited to owning a professional sports franchise.

The Orioles have gone backward under Rubenstein’s ownership

Rubenstein’s comments might be easier to overlook if the Orioles were winning.

They’re not.

When he agreed to purchase the franchise, Baltimore was coming off a 101-win season and an American League East championship in 2023.

The Orioles had one of baseball’s most exciting young cores, a highly regarded farm system and the potential to compete for championships for years.

Since then, the results have been disappointing.

Baltimore has now missed the postseason in consecutive years.

Rubenstein himself acknowledged the decline during Thursday’s event, joking that he inherited a first-place team and managed to turn it into a last-place club.

At least he recognizes the problem.

But the Orioles aren’t a struggling franchise that needed to be rescued from years of incompetence when Rubenstein arrived.

They were already positioned to contend.

What they needed was an owner capable of providing the resources, organizational stability and long-term commitment necessary to turn a talented young roster into a World Series champion.

Instead, Baltimore has taken a significant step backward.

To be fair, Rubenstein has increased spending. The Orioles’ 2026 payroll reached approximately $166.7 million, and the organization made a major financial commitment to Pete Alonso while securing long-term agreements with several important players.

Those are meaningful investments, and he deserves credit for making them.

But spending money and building a winning organization aren’t necessarily the same thing.

The Orioles’ disappointing results also raise questions about the direction of baseball operations under Mike Elias.

Ownership isn’t responsible for every bad trade, injury or underperforming player.

It is responsible for establishing expectations and holding the people running the organization accountable.

And after two consecutive losing seasons, Baltimore fans have every right to demand more.

Rubenstein’s Comments About Profits Are Even More Tone-Deaf After the Orioles’ Layoff Debacle

There’s another reason David Rubenstein’s remarks about making money from professional sports ownership couldn’t have come at a worse time.

Just days earlier, the Orioles created a public relations nightmare by laying off employees across their business operations, including people responsible for two of the most beloved parts of the Camden Yards experience: the Oriole Bird and Mr. Splash.

According to Andy Kostka of The Baltimore Banner, the organization eliminated 16 positions across several departments, including ticket sales, corporate partnerships, hospitality, graphic design and photography. A handful of Mid-Atlantic Sports Network employees also lost their jobs.

Among those affected was an employee who portrayed Mr. Splash and occasionally wore the Oriole Bird costume.

The Orioles insisted the Bird would remain part of the team’s entertainment experience and that the popular Bird Bath section would continue. But that hardly softened the backlash.

As WBAL-TV reported, fans expressed frustration over the cuts, which attracted national attention.

Think about the absurdity of the situation.

A billionaire owner who purchased a franchise in a transaction valued at approximately $1.7 billion is discussing the financial attractions of professional sports ownership while his organization is laying off employees who helped create the very fan experiences that make the Orioles valuable.

The Oriole Bird has been a Baltimore institution since 1979. Mr. Splash became an unlikely sensation during the Orioles’ resurgence in 2023, turning a section of Camden Yards into one of baseball’s most entertaining fan experiences.

These aren’t just interchangeable entertainment positions. They’re part of the emotional connection between the franchise and its supporters.

And that’s what makes the entire episode so revealing.

Rubenstein says he struggles to understand why fans develop such intense emotional attachments to their teams. Meanwhile, the business operation under his ownership is eliminating employees associated with two of the most recognizable symbols of that attachment.

You couldn’t invent a better example of an organization losing touch with its customers.

The team described the cuts as part of an organizational restructuring, not simply a reduction in headcount. Businesses reorganize, and not every personnel decision should become a referendum on ownership.

But timing and perception matter.

Baltimore doesn’t need a philanthropist. It needs an owner who understands the responsibility

Rubenstein frequently emphasizes his Baltimore roots.

He grew up in the city, attended public schools and has described purchasing the Orioles as a way to give something back to his hometown.

Those connections are genuine, and his philanthropic contributions deserve recognition. But owning the Orioles isn’t the same thing as donating to a museum, restoring a historic landmark or funding a public institution.

A baseball franchise isn’t a charitable gift to the community when fans are still paying for tickets, concessions, merchandise and television access. It’s a business built around a public trust.

And the owner’s first responsibility is to protect that trust by doing everything reasonably possible to build a winning organization.

That doesn’t mean winning a World Series every year. It means demonstrating that championships matter more than public appearances, book promotions, investment returns or the prestige of sitting in an owner’s box.

Rubenstein has written a book about sports ownership, Inside the Owner’s Box: Conversations on Power and Leadership in Sports. Perhaps the next chapter should focus less on what other billionaire owners have taught him and more on what Baltimore fans have been trying to tell him.

They don’t care how difficult ownership has become. They don’t care whether his investment produces better returns than private equity. And they certainly don’t need him to explain that their devotion to the Orioles is rooted in civic pride.

They already know that.

What they need is an owner who shares their passion, understands their frustration and recognizes that the franchise’s success matters far more to them than its financial valuation.

David Rubenstein has the money to own the Baltimore Orioles. He has the business credentials to manage a multibillion-dollar investment. He even has the hometown connections to become one of the most beloved owners in franchise history.

But his latest comments suggest he still hasn’t developed the most important qualification.

He doesn’t understand what it means to be an Orioles fan. Until he does, all the money in the world won’t make him the owner Baltimore deserves.

The Orioles have missed the playoffs in consecutive seasons. Their fans are increasingly frustrated with the direction of the franchise. Major League Baseball is approaching a potentially contentious labor negotiation, with the current collective bargaining agreement expiring December 1.

And instead of generating excitement about the future, the organization is making national headlines for firing people associated with its mascot and one of its most popular promotions.

The contrast is almost comical.

Rubenstein was supposed to represent a new beginning.

Instead, less than three years into his ownership, he’s already demonstrating some of the same troubling disconnects that made the previous regime so unpopular.

The Orioles don’t have a problem understanding how to make money from their fans. They have a problem understanding what makes those fans love the Orioles in the first place.

And after the Mr. Splash and Oriole Bird debacle, Rubenstein’s comments about the financial appeal of sports ownership sound less like an innocent admission and more like confirmation that Baltimore’s billionaire owner still doesn’t understand the business he bought.