The ink was barely dry on the Dallas City Council’s revised approval when Steven Nordseth decided to throw a wrench into the machinery. On Monday, the Dallas mortgage lender didn’t just voice his displeasure; he formalized it. He sent a three-page notice of intent to sue to City Manager Kimberly Bizor Tolbert, City Attorney Tammy Palomino, and City Secretary Bilierae Johnson, setting a 60-day clock ticking on a legal battle that could reshape how Dallas funds its sports ambitions.
Nordseth isn’t mincing words. He argues that the city’s plan to pour public money into the Dallas Wings’ new $81 million practice facility in Joey Georgusis Park is a direct violation of the Texas Constitution. His claim? The project offers insufficient public benefit and effectively gifts taxpayer money to a private enterprise.
This isn’t just a grumble from the sidelines. It is a calculated strike using Proposition S, the charter amendment Dallas voters approved in November 2024. This relatively new tool allows residents to drag the city into court if they believe officials are ignoring the charter or state law. Nordseth is the first to wield this specific weapon against a major sports subsidy, and the implications ripple far beyond Oak Cliff.
The Constitutional Fault Line
At the heart of Nordseth’s argument is Article III, Section 52 of the Texas Constitution. Often called the “gift clause,” it strictly prohibits the legislature—and by extension, municipalities—from granting public money to individuals or corporations unless there is a clear, dominant public purpose. For decades, cities have skirted this by arguing that sports teams bring tourism, jobs, and civic pride.
But Nordseth sees a different reality. He contends the city is illegally diverting funds collected through a 2% increase in hotel occupancy taxes. Voters approved these funds in 2022 with a specific mandate: they were designated for projects tied to the Kay Bailey Hutchison Convention Center and Fair Park. Diverting that revenue to a WNBA training center, he argues, breaks the promise made to the electorate.
“The legal standard for ‘public purpose’ in Texas is incredibly high when it comes to direct subsidies,” said Marcus Thiel, a municipal finance analyst who tracks sports infrastructure deals across the Sun Belt. “Cities often bet on the ‘halo effect’ of professional sports, but when the money comes from restricted tax buckets like hotel occupancy, the legal footing becomes much shakier. Nordseth is betting that the courts will see this as a private gain masquerading as public good.”
The city, for its part, is keeping its cards close to the vest. Spokesman Nick Starling confirmed receipt of the notice but declined further comment. The Wings’ camp, led by CEO Greg Bibb, is similarly silent, though Bibb has previously defended the ballooning costs as a necessity of current market conditions.
A Costly Delay and a Shifting Deal
The timing of this legal threat is precarious. The Dallas City Council only just approved a revised version of the deal on Wednesday, shifting the responsibility of actually building the training center from the city to the Wings themselves. Under this new arrangement, the city caps its contribution at $57 million, though officials admit $2.75 million has already been spent.
The project’s trajectory has been anything but smooth. Initially slated to open this spring, the 70,000-square-foot facility is now expected to break ground for a spring 2027 completion. The budget has swollen by $27 million, jumping from an original estimate of $54 million to the current $81 million price tag.
Nordseth isn’t surprised the council approved the revised deal, but he hopes the threat of litigation forces a reconsideration. His demand is stark: halt all funding, rescind the 2024 agreement, and explore lower-cost alternatives, such as retrofitting space at the American Airlines Center. If the city fails to comply within the 60-day window, he plans to file a lawsuit seeking to void the contract entirely.
The WNBA’s Economic Boom vs. Public Wallet
To understand the stakes, one must look at the broader league context. The WNBA is experiencing an unprecedented economic renaissance. The Dallas Wings’ facility is just one of several new training centers under construction. The Los Angeles Sparks recently broke ground on a $150 million facility, and the Chicago Sky is nearing completion on a $60 million center.
Proponents argue that keeping the Wings competitive is a public good in itself, preventing the team from relocating and maintaining Dallas’s status as a major league city. Yet, critics point to data suggesting that the return on investment for municipal sports subsidies is often negative.
Research from the Brookings Institution has long indicated that sports stadiums and facilities rarely generate the net economic growth cities promise. While they create jobs, those jobs are often seasonal or low-wage, and the spending on games frequently just redirects entertainment dollars from other local businesses rather than creating new revenue.
Nordseth’s son-in-law, Damien LeVeck, formerly the executive director of Dallas HERO (the nonprofit behind Proposition S), has publicly backed the move. LeVeck published a thread on X earlier this week, urging the city to “immediately withdraw its commitment” to the Wings. This family connection highlights how the new charter amendment is being actively utilized by those who championed its creation.
The Ripple Effect of Proposition S
This lawsuit threat is the first major stress test for Proposition S. Approved by voters just months ago, the amendment was designed to provide residents a direct line of accountability. It follows a trend of increased citizen oversight in Texas municipal governance.
We are already seeing the legal landscape shift. Attorney General Ken Paxton recently sued Dallas, arguing officials violated the city charter by underfunding the police department. Dallas HERO had warned of potential legal action for months before that suit was filed. Now, with Nordseth’s notice, the city faces a pincer movement: pressure from the state’s top law enforcement officer and pressure from its own taxpayers.
If Nordseth succeeds, it could set a precedent that makes it significantly harder for Dallas—and potentially other Texas cities—to subsidize private sports ventures using restricted tax funds. It forces a re-evaluation of what constitutes a “public benefit” in an era where professional sports leagues are generating record revenues.
For now, the city waits. The 60-day window offers a brief period of calm before the potential storm. But for Steven Nordseth, the goal is clear. “I’m trying to use every bit of ammo that I can think of that can shut this down,” he said. “That’s what my goal is.”
As the deadline approaches, Dallas residents will have to decide: Is a state-of-the-art practice facility for a WNBA team a vital public asset, or is it a private luxury paid for with public debt? The answer may soon be decided not at the ballot box, but in a courtroom.
