Before We Blame Black Bear Let’s Be Honest About the Business of Keeping Ice Alive

USA TODAY’s recent coverage of Black Bear Sports Group presented a dramatic picture of a youth hockey “empire,” raising concerns about monopoly power, private gain, and the commercialization of the sport. Its own podcast summary described founder Murry Gunty as a businessman who saw an opportunity in youth hockey and “cashed in on it,” while noting that Gunty says Black Bear reinvested profits back into the business. That framing may make for a compelling headline, but it leaves out a basic question that every hockey family, association, city council, and rink operator eventually has to face: who is actually going to pay to keep the ice frozen?

For-profit businesses exist to make money. That is not a scandal. It is the premise of private enterprise. A privately owned ice arena is not rent-controlled housing, a public entitlement, or a charity. It is a facility with payroll, utilities, insurance, taxes, repairs, refrigeration systems, ice plants, resurfacing equipment, compressors, dehumidification systems, and capital needs that never stop. Passion for hockey does not keep the lights on. Community pride does not replace a failed chiller. Nostalgia does not pay the electric bill.

The public often talks about ice time as though it should be inexpensive because the sport is beloved. But an ice rink is one of the most complicated and expensive recreational facilities to operate. The University of Illinois’ EnergySense program notes that ice arenas are “large energy users,” with major costs driven by refrigeration, ice-sheet maintenance, heating, ventilation, and dehumidification; it also reports that refrigeration alone can account for 45% of typical ice arena energy use. REALice, an ice-rink energy-efficiency company, estimates that a typical single-pad rink can use 1,500 to 2,400 megawatt-hours per year, with resurfacing often occurring 6 to 12 times per day. Those are not small-town bake-sale numbers.

That is why the common suggestion that “local hockey associations should just run the rink themselves” usually collapses once the math appears. Yes, associations can come together, raise money, buy land, build facilities, and operate ice. But they rarely do because the costs are enormous and the risks are real. In Michigan, the Huron County Hockey Association’s new arena project shows what commitment actually requires: phase one alone is estimated at $4 million to $5 million, and that is only the first stage, with additional fundraising still needed for later phases. That example should be applauded. It also proves the point. Running a rink is not the same as renting a locker room and complaining about ice rates.

This is the reality Black Bear stepped into. The company says it owns, manages, and operates 47 ice rinks across 11 states and focuses on clusters of arenas for more efficient management and programming. Its stated business model is not mysterious: acquire or manage rinks, invest in them, create programming, and generate enough revenue to sustain the operation. Black Bear says its goal is to save older rinks by investing capital to modernize facilities and support hockey and figure skating communities. People can debate whether every decision is perfect, but the basic idea is not sinister. It is exactly what failing or aging ice facilities often need: capital, structure, and professional management.

Michigan is a perfect example. Once a powerhouse hockey state that could rival almost anyone in player development, Michigan has seen the game become fragmented, expensive, territorial, and in many places dependent on aging infrastructure. When rinks struggle, close, or need major repairs, who steps up? In Kalamazoo, the former Wings West facility closed after a refrigeration system failure; Black Bear later announced it would reopen the facility as BIGGBY COFFEE Ice Cube – Kalamazoo, with public access expected to resume and entry-level programming such as “Take a Shot at Hockey,” including equipment at no cost for beginners. That is not destroying hockey. That is putting a dark sheet of ice back into use.

Critics also object when Black Bear operates in-house programs or streamlines leagues, scheduling, and services. But why is that surprising? In any other segment of a capitalist market, we understand that companies protect their product. You do not walk into McDonald’s and demand a Burger King Whopper. Apple is not required to run Microsoft’s operating system. A private rink owner is not obligated to give every outside association the best ice slots, the lowest rates, and operational control while the owner absorbs the financial risk.

That does not mean customers have no rights. It means the conversation should be honest. If a youth hockey association wants control over pricing, scheduling, coaching, and programming, then it should raise the money, buy the rink, hire the staff, maintain the building, and carry the liability. If it does not want to do that, then it is renting space inside someone else’s business. Complaining when rates rise to match costs is easy. Signing the note, replacing the refrigeration system, and making payroll is harder.

The same logic applies to Black Bear TV. Some families dislike paying for streaming. That is understandable. Hockey is already expensive. But Black Bear’s own FAQ says parents are allowed to record their own children and even record full games or practices as long as they are not livestreamed, broadcast, or simulcast. The company says the livestream restriction is tied to consent, security, redistribution, insurance, NIL, and privacy concerns involving minors. People may dispute whether that policy is too restrictive, but filming your own child and broadcasting an entire game full of other children are not the same thing.

Black Bear also lists Black Bear TV pricing at $25.99 per month for a basic monthly plan and $36.99 per month for a premium monthly plan, with other options available. Again, families can decide whether that product is worth buying. But building a centralized streaming platform, installing cameras, managing video, and creating a consistent viewing product is not free. If the argument is that every service connected to youth hockey should be provided at cost or below cost, then say that openly. But do not pretend that a private company is immoral simply because it monetizes a product it created.

None of this means Black Bear should be above scrutiny. Michigan’s Attorney General is reportedly reviewing potential anticompetitive practices in youth hockey, including concerns involving corporate consolidation and Black Bear’s Michigan facilities. If there are legitimate antitrust issues, regulators should examine them. If families are being misled, contracts should be clarified. If service is poor, customers should say so. But scrutiny is different from assuming that profit equals predation.

The uncomfortable truth is that hockey people often want private investment without private control. They want renovated facilities, stable ice, full schedules, modern programming, online streaming, professional staff, and lower prices, all at once. That is not a business plan. Someone has to pay. It can be taxpayers through municipal rinks. It can be donors through nonprofit associations. It can be families through fees. Or it can be private operators who invest capital and expect a return.

Black Bear is not perfect, and no company should be immune from criticism. But before we condemn it for acting like a business, we should ask why so few others have been willing to do the hard, expensive, unglamorous work of keeping ice arenas alive. If communities want a different model, they should build it. Until then, blaming the company that actually steps in, spends money, and operates the rink is not a solution. It is just frustration looking for a villain.