This is the most substantive update in the Peanut Project journey, though I recognize it’s a bit of “inside baseball” with regards to deal-making. I could not have done it without the community’s support, help and words of encouragement.

End of the Peanut Project‘s Phase 1: “Pitching”

It wasn’t the Netflix doc. It was…

We are now well past linking to articles explaining the project, its Executive Summary, or even the ambitious 4C infrastructure plan. We are moving from Concept to Reality: converting interest, and concretizing intent, into action.

The Peanut Project LLC has effectively received approximately US$7B in verbal, non-binding, conditional financing interest across a mix of:
i) the team,
ii) the stadium, and
iii) broader infrastructure.

But, as always, the devil is in the details—not only because private equity firms are typically capped at 15% per fund and 30% in aggregate of ownership in a sports franchise (while infrastructure investment can be far less constrained), but also because the sequencing, packaging, and match-making of these capital sources is now entering a new phase.

In lieu of a lengthy breakdown (you’ve suffered enough), and all else being equal: there are both more investors, and greater investor appetite, for physical infrastructure than for sports franchises. When it comes to team ownership, investors generally prefer cash-flow-generating existing teams over expansion teams that may be years away from their first dollar of revenue. And, all else being equal, they prefer acquiring an existing team rather than entering through expansion.

This is precisely what makes the Peanut Project uniquely ambitious—and uniquely challenging.

In stages of M&A (mergers & acquisitions), we broke down corporate development as such:

What is within our control is preparing a baseball-first, community-driven, financially-compliant proposal while respecting MLB’s process and timeline. No amount of willpower can change that.

Things we don’t control? MLB choosing the winning cities, and the timeline — after a possible work stoppage in 2026, then renegotiating rights in 2027. But with MLB commissioner Rob Manfred aiming to expand by two teams before retirement, logic suggests that one city would be east of the Mississippi, while one west.

We wish every candidate city nothing but success — especially Nashville, as it seeks additional taxpayer support after committing roughly $1B to its NFL stadium, and Charlotte, a lovely city I’ve always enjoyed visiting, often on the drive up from near Atlanta. But Montreal’s unique and untapped potential can shine bright in this process, and we have ample time to make this not only “improbable but not impossible,” but “inevitable.”

En effet, Montréal brings something uniquely additive: it deepens the Canadian baseball rivalry, strengthens the Northeast corridor, and sits at just the right distance from Boston and New York to create new storylines without feeling like a copy-paste market.

But, fortune favours the bold.

Strike when “Hot… & Heavy”

A mere 69 days after my visceral reaction seeing the Nordiques jersey being defiled, we are now entering a new phase.

Turnover & Thesis

If there’s one thing I have experience in, it’s in being turned down by investors, so when I see feral investors, I realize you have to let it flow somewhere.

When I say all of my life experiences seem to have prepped me for this, I kid you not:

None of this is new, by the way. I’ve written about these realities transparently for years—back when hardly anyone cared. But now it’s clear why I did.

Because the headaches and heartbreaks weren’t wasted.

They were preparation.

And in hindsight, they all make sense.

Commencement of Phase 2: “Catching” (aka Receiving)

In the fictionalized feature-film adaptation of The Peanut Project: A Story of Will Power, there’s a scene where a young twenty-something Will Power (a bit too on the nose, I know—and it will almost certainly change by the time it reaches the silver screen) has exhausted every possible saviour for the team circa 2004.

Drained, dejected, and left with nothing but despair, he writes a letter to his future self, pleading:

“In the end, I couldn’t pull it off. Today, we lost the Expos. They’re gone. And I don’t think they’re ever returning. I failed.
So one final letter: if somehow you do become successful in the future—and can ever make a difference for people who need help, who call for help—please help. Don’t become one of those people who changes, and turns his back on his principles.”

It’s a sentiment I alluded to in early December in my conversation with Jean-Charles Lajoie (at 6:47), when my “exploratory process” shifted from fan interest to media support.

Today, I recognize I could spend another two years talking about our progress—or I can act on it.

So we’re turning the page.

We’re entering the next phase of this this Academy & Study of Entrepreneurship case study unfolding in plain view: moving from intent to execution, and converting interest into concrete action.

“What WTF is Ash talking about? What does this mean?”

In M&A, there’s always a lot of conversation—but eventually, there comes a moment when you ask people to put their money where their mouth is.

Multiple private equity funds have expressed interest in funding the infrastructure surrounding the stadium. Many are eager to fund the stadium itself. And a handful have expressed interest in investing in the franchise (admittedly, most investors prefer acquiring an existing team rather than backing an expansion franchise). Some of it us redundant/mutually exclusive (i.e. the maximum that can be deployed to a $2B sports franchise is $600M), but basic back-of-the-envelope math pegs the amount at $7B. Ask any M&A banker and they’ll tell you this is a staggering amount after 69 days of work.

So the next step is clear: a Process Letter—including a teaser, and an RFP for professional services firms who have experience doing this and feel they can add value (I will share these in the days to come, but feel free to get ahead of the line via my Linkedin, or email me at ash at granicusgroup dot com, cc ash at watchmojo dot com).

While I am fully satisfied with the professionals I already work with (E&Y, Osler, etc), the Peanut Project is inherently civic and public in nature. As such, this process will be open to all, ensuring transparency, avoiding any perception of conflicts of interest, and keeping the project above reproach.

And yes, I’ve done a great deal of this work already, but the next phase requires the specialized support of seasoned professionals—the mercenaries I’ve always enjoyed working with and learned from, be it when CIBC represented us in our 2020 recapitalization when we invited a NY-based PE fund to join our cap table, or more recently when Oaklins DeSilva Phillips took on our current mandate (which spawned some of this “sports entertainment” vision).

As the timeline and scope of business differs from WatchMojo, it’s simply better governance and more prudent to erect a bit of a Chinese wall to ensure my fiduciary duty to my existing investors does not get muddied, though WatchMojo will certainly be a party to whatever outcome occurs over time.

Deadline? Opening game, Wednesday, March 25th, or 47 days from now when the New York Yankees visit the San Francisco Giants at Oracle Park. PE is ready and eager to go, and after I declined their many overtures to shift my attention to pursuing existing franchises available for sale, the “sequencing” became crystal clear on my stroll back to my hotel after my nth meeting.

One of the most misunderstood aspects of the stadium conversation is this: a modern ballpark is not just a baseball venue. It’s a year-round, revenue-generating, city-defining entertainment platform.

It becomes the type of place where global sports properties, leagues, promoters, broadcasters, and sponsors want to plant a flag—because the venue itself becomes part of the event. The Bell Centre is already the second most booked arena in North America and le Groupe CH’s evenko could unlock value with more capacity.

To make that tangible, here are the kinds of premium, made-for-TV matchups that could anchor a full calendar year of programming and tourism—one marquee event per month, in addition to baseball.

A “12-Month Stadium” Calendar (Illustrative Examples)

January: Outdoor NHL Winter Classic-style showcase
Montreal Canadiens vs Toronto Maple Leafs (because… obviously)

February: NFL international-style regular season game (or neutral-site showcase)
Buffalo Bills vs New England Patriots — a cross-border rivalry that writes itself

March: Rugby event (Six Nations-style exhibition or club showcase)
France vs England (or Toulouse vs Leinster)

April: MLS / international club exhibition
CF Montréal vs Inter Miami (Messi-level star power if timing aligns)

May: Global boxing or UFC stadium event
A championship fight weekend that turns the city into a destination

June: International cricket showcase (yes, cricket draws massive crowds globally)
India vs Pakistan — one of the biggest sporting rivalries on earth

July: Major concert residency / festival-style programming
A Taylor Swift / Coldplay-level multi-night run (or equivalent global touring act)

August: European football mega-friendly
Real Madrid vs Paris Saint-Germain — sold out instantly, broadcast worldwide

September: NCAA-style college football neutral-site kickoff (or major football showcase)
Michigan vs Notre Dame (or another historic rivalry)

October: Outdoor CFL / NFL crossover weekend concept
Alouettes vs Argonauts as part of a larger festival slate

November: Aussie Rules Football international showcase
Collingwood vs Richmond (AFL’s kind of spectacle is tailor-made for big venues)

December: International hockey + holiday festival game
Canada vs USA (World Juniors / national team exhibition energy)

The point isn’t that every one of these events will happen exactly as listed. The point is that a modern Montreal stadium, properly designed, properly programmed, and properly financed, becomes a global event magnet—a platform that can host premium sports and entertainment properties year-round. The 4C vision is already intended to “export Montreal to the world via the museum, while importing the world’s best to Montreal.” The stadium will ideally house a baseball team, but in the very small likelihood that somehow this hurts our chances with MLB, there are no shortage of ideas for world class events to house. Bear in mind, who are the investors in many of those franchises and leagues? The very same PE funds I have been courting for the past 69 days. Enough talk, it’s time for action (and to be clear: PE is inducing me to… take their money).

I’m not saying “build it and they will come,” I am saying “we build it because this is what makes Montréal regain its mojo, dramatically elevates Montréal in MLB’s eyes as the best viable city if it weren’t already. And, as every PE fund and professional services firm I speak to says (they may be biased, but they are right), having PE on board sooner than later bolsters the Peanut Project LLC‘s credibility.

Baseball is the anchor, ideally.
But the stadium is the engine with or without it, if someone is creative enough with the contacts and willpower to take this concept and turn it into reality.

And, Montreal is the destination.

It’s been a long day, oysters and a martini await… and I’d like to work on the SoundMojo music albums, here’s the latest demo (but do scroll down for a tear-jerker).

So, look out for the Process Letter in the days to come…

Now grab a box of kleenex and enjoy:

THE PEANUT PROJECT: A STORY OF WILL POWER
Screenplay excerpt

FADE IN:

EXT. NATIONALS PARK – WASHINGTON, D.C. – NIGHT

A packed stadium under bright lights.

The final pitch is hit — a routine fly ball.

An OUTFIELDER settles beneath it.

The ball drops into the glove.

OUT.

The scoreboard flashes:

FINAL.

The crowd ROARS. Fireworks are expected… but none come.

Players shake hands. Fans begin to stream toward the exits. Vendors pull down shutters. The stadium’s energy drains into the night.

No ceremony.
No announcement.
No spotlight.

Just baseball.

Near the outfield wall, THREE WASHINGTON NATIONALS PLAYERS linger behind as the rest head toward the dugout.

They exchange a look.

One nods.

They walk toward the outfield wall.

Hanging there are three jerseys — relics of another city, another era.

#8 – GARY CARTER
#10 – RUSTY STAUB / ANDRE DAWSON
#30 – TIM RAINES

The players stop.

They look up.

A moment of stillness.

Then one reaches up and begins to remove #8.

Slowly.

Carefully.

Another removes #10, hands steady.

The third removes #30, as if it weighs more than fabric should.

They fold the jerseys with precision — the way you fold a flag — over commemorative bases.

Reverent.

Deliberate.

No one in the stands notices.

No camera finds them.

The jerseys become clean rectangles of history.

They hold them against their chests.

Then turn and walk back toward the dugout.

Quietly disappearing into the tunnel.

The stadium lights hum above them.

The crowd leaves.

And Washington never says a word.

But history just moved.

FADE OUT.

EXT. PARC DES EXPOS – MONTREAL – DAY (THE NEXT DAY)

Cold spring sunlight. A sold-out crowd packed into the new field of dreams.

The sound is different here.

Not just loud.

Alive.

Personal.

The scoreboard reads:

MONTREAL EXPOS – HOME OPENER

The stands ripple with movement. Flags wave. People cry before anything has even happened.

A chant rises like a storm:

CROWD
EX-POS! EX-POS! EX-POS!

The stadium lights dim.

The chant fades into a hush.

The kind of silence that only comes when a crowd knows it’s about to witness something permanent.

From the dugout emerge FOUR FIGURES, walking side by side toward center field.

The crowd ERUPTS.

PEDRO MARTINEZ
VLADIMIR GUERRERO
LARRY WALKER
BRAD WILKERSON

Each carries a folded jersey.

They walk slowly — not like entertainers.

Like custodians.

Pedro holds #8.
Vlad holds #10.
Larry holds #30.

Wilkerson walks beside them, solemn — a bridge between two cities and one shared story.

They stop near the mound.

The crowd roars, then settles again into anticipation.

The JUMBOTRON flickers.

The screen goes black.

A beat.

Then —

A black-and-white photograph fills the stadium:

CHARLES BRONFMAN.

The crowd reacts instantly — not with screaming, but with recognition.

Respect.

Gratitude.

Beneath the photo, words appear:

“It takes one person to start a movement,
but no movement was ever made by one person alone.”

The stadium falls silent.

Then the applause begins.

Not polite.

Not performative.

Deep. Trembling. Endless.

A city applauding a man who believed when belief wasn’t fashionable.

The applause grows until it feels like thunder.

From the tunnel, a fifth figure steps onto the field.

STEPHEN BRONFMAN.

He doesn’t wave.

He doesn’t gesture to the crowd.

He walks with quiet confidence — calm, content.

Relieved.

Fulfilled.

Like someone who has kept a flame alive for a long time… and is finally watching others gather around it.

A human bridge between the past and the future, holding the space until the stars aligned — until he no longer had to carry it alone.

His face says one thing clearly:

Everything happens for a reason.

He approaches the mound.

Waiting there is PEDRO, holding the folded #8 jersey.

Stephen stops in front of him.

He reaches into his jacket pocket.

Pulls out a baseball from the last home game played in Montreal.

He looks at Pedro.

Pedro looks back.

Stephen places the ball into Pedro’s hand.

Pedro closes his fingers around it.

A quiet exchange.

A transfer.

A passing of something sacred.

Pedro nods once.

Stephen nods back.

No words.

Stephen turns and walks off the field.

Pedro watches him walk into the tunnel to fan applause.

Quiet ensues.

Then Pedro turns toward home plate.

The crowd rises to its feet again, instinctively.

As Pedro steps onto the mound—

A low mechanical HUM begins beyond center field.

Heads turn.

Behind the outfield wall, something begins to rise.

Slowly.

Massively.

A GIANT EXPOS FLAG ascends behind center field like a sunrise made of fabric.

The Expos logo catches the wind.

The flag climbs higher and higher until it towers above the stadium.

Unmissable.

Unmistakable.

INEVITABLE.

The crowd explodes:

CROWD
EX-POS! EX-POS! EX-POS!

Pedro looks up at the flag.

Then down at the ball in his hand.

He exhales.

He sets.

He begins his windup.

EXT. HOME PLATE – CONTINUOUS

The catcher is set.

The batter stands respectfully aside.

A ceremonial first pitch — but it doesn’t feel ceremonial.

It feels like closure.

Like rebirth.

Pedro releases.

The ball travels — clean and perfect —

THWACK.

The catcher’s mitt snaps shut.

The sound echoes through the stadium like punctuation.

The crowd erupts into chaos.

Tears.

Screams.

People hugging strangers.

Pedro steps off the mound, smiling through emotion.

He looks up once more at the flag.

Then back toward the outfield wall.

Pedro, Vlad, and Larry move together.

They unfold the jerseys.

#8 – CARTER
#10 – STAUB / DAWSON
#30 – RAINES

They raise them high.

The crowd roars louder.

And then — slowly, deliberately — they hang them.

Permanent.

Sacred.

A bridge to the future, anchored in the past.

The jerseys sway gently in the breeze.

Pedro steps back.

Vlad steps back.

Larry steps back.

They look up.

A long beat.

The flag continues to billow above center field.

The stadium is alive, shaking, breathing.

A voice comes over the PA — soft, trembling:

PA ANNOUNCER (V.O.)
Mesdames et messieurs…
bienvenue à la maison.

Ladies and gentlemen…

Welcome home.

Players line up along the baselines.

The noise fades into reverent silence.

The first notes of O CANADA begin.

And 40,000 voices rise.

Not as spectators.

As citizens.

The camera lingers on the jerseys.

Then the flag.

Then the skyline beyond the stadium.

Montreal has its history back.

Quietly.

Respectfully.

Forever.

FADE OUT.

TITLE CARD:
THE PEANUT PROJECT: A STORY OF WILL POWER