The Green Bay Packers have reported a rare operating loss, a result that puts fresh focus on the limits of the NFL’s only fan-owned ownership model as capital competition picks up across the league. The team posted $753 million in annual revenue and $754.1 million in operating expenses, leaving an operating loss of about $1.1 million. Excluding the pandemic years, the figure stands out as an unusual core-business loss for the franchise over recent decades.
That did not translate into an overall net loss. Backed by investment gains and income linked to the NFL’s sale of media assets including NFL Network to ESPN, the Packers recorded $133.6 million in non-operating income. Net profit reached $132.5 million, up nearly 55% from a year earlier.
Player costs drove the operating loss
The sharp rise in operating costs was largely tied to player transactions, new signings, and contract costs that had to be recognized early after some players left the team. Player-related expenses increased by about $131.7 million, which was the main reason the Packers slipped into an operating loss.
At the same time, league revenue sharing continued to grow. The Packers’ national revenue rose 4.8% year over year, up $20.6 million to a record $453.2 million. Local revenue, which includes ticket sales, sponsorships, merchandise and events, also increased by $13.4 million even though the team had one fewer regular-season home game.
The figures show one of the NFL’s core business structures at work: the league generates large pools of national revenue and distributes that money across its 32 teams. That model gives Green Bay, a city in Wisconsin far smaller than markets such as New York or Los Angeles, access to meaningful income from national broadcast rights, media rights and league commercial operations.
More than 538,000 shareholders, but not stock in the usual sense
The Packers’ ownership structure remains one of the most unusual in professional sports. Green Bay Packers, Inc. has operated as a publicly held non-profit corporation since 1923. It now has about 538,967 shareholders holding around 5.2 million shares.
Those shares are nothing like ordinary equity in companies such as Apple or Nvidia. Packers stock pays no dividend, cannot be freely traded, and is not something buyers can expect to resell later for a gain if the franchise valuation rises. It functions much more like proof of affiliation and ownership identity for fans.
In practice, a fan who buys Packers stock is paying for the statement, “I’m a Packers owner,” not for a financial return. That has produced a distinctive business model in which supporters are willing to put money into the club even though the team offers none of the standard economic benefits traditional investors would ask for. Over the years, the Packers have used stock offerings to raise money to keep the club going and to improve the stadium and other infrastructure.
Private equity is now inside the NFL, but Green Bay cannot follow
That century-old model now faces a new kind of rival: private equity. In 2024, the NFL formally changed its rules to allow approved private equity funds to own as much as 10% of a team. The approved groups include Arctos Partners, Ares Management, Sixth Street, and a consortium made up of Blackstone, Carlyle, CVC, Dynasty Equity and Ludis.
For NFL franchises valued in the billions of dollars, the change creates a way to raise hundreds of millions of dollars by selling less than 10% of equity while still keeping control of the team.
The Packers cannot use that mechanism because of their ownership structure. Chairman, president and CEO Ed Policy put it bluntly: “It’s like other teams have an ATM we don’t have.”
Green Bay currently holds about $701 million in its corporate reserve fund, up $77 million from a year earlier. The fund has been built over more than 30 years and serves as a major financial cushion. Team officials also said other NFL clubs may now be able to raise similar amounts of capital in a matter of months by selling minority stakes.
A Japanese comparison: Hiroshima Toyo Carp and the civic-team model
The report also points to a comparable, though not identical, case in Asia: Japan’s Hiroshima Toyo Carp. The similarities are real, but the ownership path is different.
Japanese professional baseball has long been shaped by company-backed teams. Clubs such as the Yomiuri Giants, Hanshin Tigers, Chunichi Dragons and Fukuoka SoftBank Hawks all sit alongside major corporate groups. The Carp stand apart because they do not have a conventional parent company that simply absorbs team losses.
The club was founded in 1950 and positioned itself from the beginning as a “civic team.” Hiroshima’s postwar economy was weak, and the team soon ran into financial trouble and at one point came close to folding. Local residents then launched the well-known “taru bokin” fundraising drive, collecting money in sake barrels and other containers. It became a lasting symbol of fans stepping in to save the club.
Still, the comparison has limits. The Packers are literally owned by more than 530,000 shareholders today. The Carp’s “civic team” identity is better understood as a historical tradition and management philosophy, not a structure of direct ownership by hundreds of thousands of citizens.
The Carp later accepted support from Toyo Kogyo, now known as Mazda. In 1962, Toyo Kogyo president Tsunetsugu Matsuda became club president. In 1967, the team was formally renamed the Hiroshima Toyo Carp, and Toyo Kogyo took over club operations. Today, ownership is mainly held by the Matsuda family and shareholders including Mazda, rather than by a broad base of Hiroshima residents.
What the team did preserve was one crucial feature: no large parent company stood ready to cover losses directly. That reality shaped the club’s business model. Team owner Hajime Matsuda once said Hiroshima is a regional team without a parent company, so it has to think about what it can do on its own. Other Japanese baseball teams can receive support from their parent companies through promotional spending and similar arrangements, but Hiroshima does not have that option, which is why operating in the black is necessary.
Related reports cited in the source said the team had achieved 39 consecutive profitable years as of 2014. Even with Mazda holding a large stake, the club has not operated by relying on annual loss coverage from Mazda.
One relies on league sharing, the other monetizes local identity
The Packers and the Carp face a similar constraint: when there is no billionaire owner or deep-pocketed corporate parent behind the team, the club itself has to function as a sustainable business.
Their answers are different. Green Bay leans on the NFL’s highly developed revenue-sharing system. Even as a small-market city, it can draw meaningful income from national broadcast deals, media rights and league-wide commercial revenue.
Hiroshima depends more heavily on its own local market. That pressure pushed the club to turn “Hiroshima” itself into a product. Jerseys, caps, cheering goods, the stadium experience and partnerships with local companies all tie the team tightly to local identity.
That leaves the two clubs with an unusual overlap: what they have really commercialized, in part, is not just the game on the field but the idea that “this is our team.”
The Packers turned that identity into a financial instrument, a non-tradable, non-dividend-paying share that lets fans say, “I’m a Packers owner.” The Carp built a different form of ownership in the minds of supporters through postwar reconstruction, civic fundraising, local business backing and decades of fan culture.