Sources: Snyder ‘hates’ Commanders success

THIS PAST FALL, Dan Snyder had dinner in London with longtime associates. For only the second autumn since 1999, Snyder was not the owner of his beloved Washington football team.

He was not living the ups and downs of an NFL season, as he had done since his childhood in Maryland.

He was not presiding over the Commanders‘ rebuild, already on the cusp of a stunning turnaround, the kind of rise that Snyder lived for in a previous life: from 4-13 in 2023 to what would eventually be a 12-5 regular season and an underdog playoff run, culminating in an NFC Championship Game appearance Sunday against the Philadelphia Eagles.

But now Snyder is a ghost: The new-look Commanders are not only led by first-time general manager Adam Peters, new head coach Dan Quinn and sensational rookie quarterback Jayden Daniels, but they also have a new ownership group, led by Josh Harris and his Harris Blitzer Sports & Entertainment.

At the London dinner, Snyder, 60, was polite, if not subdued, and did things the associates had come to expect, such as ordering almost everything on the menu. Snyder said that he was enjoying a quiet existence, mostly in London. Life was better for his family, far from the controversies that had engulfed him and the team the past several years. Talk inevitably turned to the improving Commanders, already off to a strong start. When one associate returned to the United States, a colleague asked him the question that’s been on the minds of many fans and league executives:

What’s it like for Snyder, for years the most hated owner in sports, to watch the Commanders succeed without him?

“He f—ing hates it,” Snyder’s dinner companion told the colleague.

Neither Snyder nor any of his representatives responded to interview requests from ESPN. But according to league sources, team owners, sports executives, lawyers and others with knowledge of his current status, some of whom requested anonymity to discuss sensitive legal matters, Snyder has recast much of his life since he sold the Commanders under duress 19 months ago.

He has mostly lived in London, often surrounded by a security detail, or spent time on his superyacht. He is trying to sell his remaining U.S. real estate holdings and decided to give away a $35 million estate to the American Cancer Society after it sat unsold for months. Any business he conducts is from the U.K., where sources with firsthand knowledge say he has expressed interest in buying into a Premier League soccer club, although others who know him well doubt Snyder will ever own any professional sports team again.

What little remains for him in the United States includes a tangle of unresolved legal issues — and the thoughts of what might have been if he had never sold the team.

SNYDER NEVER WANTED to sell, even after putting the Commanders up for sale. Few people outside the league, Harris’ company, or the Commanders organization know that he tried desperately to blow up the sale at the last minute.

Snyder had been pressured into the sale by fellow owners who roundly hated him and league executives eager to see the franchise returned to its former glory — and profitability. Former NFL commissioner Paul Tagliabue recently told confidants that Snyder is “the worst owner in the history of the National Football League.”

A source with direct knowledge said that, after months of negotiations with Harris, Snyder was imagining ways to keep his team. One idea, the source said, was to announce that he had years earlier given up alcohol, and to say that much of his alleged misbehavior over the years that caused so much league and fellow owner angst happened while he was drunk. Snyder also purposefully set a minimum price of $6 billion for the Commanders, knowing that few people, even among the ultrarich, could afford that price tag.

Despite Snyder’s resistance, the sale process moved ahead, with Harris’ group barely clearing the asking price. Harris needed to recruit approximately 20 limited partners.

Then, on July 20, 2023, shortly after owners approved the sale for a North American sports franchise record of $6.05 billion, the NFL gave Snyder another reason to be mad, fining him a record $60 million on the way out. A league investigation led by attorney Mary Jo White not only affirmed Snyder’s alleged sexual harassment of a team employee but also concluded he had fostered a toxic workplace culture and that the Commanders had withheld revenue from the NFL. Sources said Snyder was infuriated that the fine dropped the amount just below the $6 billion he had insisted on from the beginning.

“There’s no way I’m paying,” Snyder told confidants about the league fine.

Suddenly, the sale’s closing — a supposed formality — turned into an eleventh-hour drama, multiple sources with direct knowledge told ESPN. Snyder threatened to kill the deal by refusing to share his bank information, preventing Harris from wiring him the money. At 1 a.m. on July 21, Snyder and his wife were fielding phone calls from various executives and confidants, urging him to do what he’d pledged and let go of the team.

“I don’t want to do this,” Snyder told a confidant.

A rally celebrating Harris’ ownership group was scheduled for later that day at the since-renamed FedEx Field.

But as 1 a.m. became 2 a.m., Snyder was refusing to hand over the stadium keys.

“I don’t care!” Snyder said, according to sources with direct knowledge of what transpired in those hours. “It would be trespassing if anyone goes there. It’s still mine!”

League executives didn’t know what Snyder would do next but told Harris’ group to be on call, ready to wire the funds if and when Snyder shared his bank information — and before he could renege.

In the days leading up to the close, sources said, Dan and Tanya Snyder were pressed by confidants and friends, including Hall of Fame coach Joe Gibbs, the three-time Super Bowl winner who supported Snyder even during the darkest times, to complete the deal out of love for the team and fans.

Associates reminded Snyder in those wee hours that the primary reason to sell was his family. The past few years of relentless revelations about bad behavior and questionable ethics, largely of Snyder’s own doing, had taken a toll on his three children. Tanya reminded her husband that the sale would relieve their emotional distress. A confidant warned Snyder, “The only way your legacy gets worse is if you rip this back now.”

Quiet minutes passed. Tanya said, “Dan, I know this is hard. This was a dream.”

With that, Snyder relented. He gave the go-ahead to Jason Wright, then the Commanders’ team president (he declined to comment for this story), to share the bank information so the Harris Group could wire the $6.05 billion. It was finally official: Harris and his fellow investors owned the Washington Commanders. The league had finally pushed out its most hated owner. The rally the next day at FedEx Field commenced as planned.

Months later, Tad Brown, CEO of HBSE, told confidants, “We don’t get the Commanders if not for Joe Gibbs.”

Despite Snyder’s protests about the $60 million fine, it was paid July 21 “as part of the overall transaction,” a league official confirmed.

“The fine was a condition of the sale and was included in the resolution that was voted upon and approved by the full membership,” the official said.

A spokesman for HBSE declined to comment on the sale, citing a nondisclosure agreement signed by the two sides.

THOUGH DAN SNYDER held tight to the end, Dan and Tanya Snyder had been quietly planning their second act for months. Less than three weeks after announcing on Nov. 2, 2022, that they intended to sell the Commanders, the Snyders established a company to operate in England and Wales. The document established a new company, dubbed “Snyder UK Investments Limited,” but it also signaled the Snyders’ future intentions. On the documents setting up the company, Snyder, and Tanya, then the co-CEO of the Commanders, were asked where they “usually” reside.

They both answered: England.

London made sense as the place for the Snyders to envision their post-Commanders life together. The United Kingdom holds a special place in Snyder’s heart. His late father, Gerald, who was an author and freelance writer for National Geographic and United Press International, held a dual U.S.-U.K. citizenship. At the age of 12, Dan Snyder moved from Silver Spring, Maryland, to Henley-on-Thames, outside London, as his father researched and wrote a book on the Loch Ness Monster. For two years, the family lived in the U.K. and Snyder attended a private school. It was then that Snyder became a devout Anglophile who today adores London’s history, culture and nightlife, associates said.

Snyder left the United States with a raft of legal action against him or the team during his tenure, including expected subpoenas from federal and civil lawsuits, investigations by multiple attorneys general and a two-year-old FBI and IRS inquiry into the Commanders’ finances.

Since November 2022, federal prosecutors in Alexandria, Virginia, have been investigating deceptive business practices alleged in an April 2022 letter that the House Committee on Oversight and Reform sent to the Federal Trade Commission.

A federal grand jury was impaneled, team financial records were subpoenaed, and several former team executives met with prosecutors, sources with firsthand knowledge told ESPN. No indictments have been returned. President Donald Trump this week appointed a new interim U.S. attorney for the district, and the future of the inquiry will be up to him. Snyder has been a loyal supporter of Trump, including writing a $1 million check to the president’s 2017 inaugural committee.

Snyder also is the central figure in a federal lawsuit filed a year ago by one of his former minority partners against Bank of America, the bank that Snyder owed a debt of nearly $1 billion when he sold the team. In the lawsuit, a Tampa, Florida, billionaire and former minority partner of the Commanders, Robert Rothman, alleged that Bank of America conspired with the NFL and Snyder to force him and two other minority partners to sell their stake in the Commanders back to Snyder in 2021 at a valuation roughly half of the $6.05 billion Snyder was ultimately paid.

The lawsuit, which does not name Snyder as a defendant, alleges that Bank of America turned “a blind eye” to “financial red flags” raised by Snyder’s management of the team, including his alleged failure to pay the partners a share of the profits and his increasing reliance on team debt to finance his lavish lifestyle.

The centerpiece of Rothman’s lawsuit is Bank of America’s December 2018 approval of the franchise’s $55 million credit line taken out by Snyder without his minority partners’ knowledge or required approval. The bank allowed Snyder to draw $38 million in March 2019 from the credit line “without verifying Snyder had obtained board approval,” the lawsuit states.

A Bank of America spokesman has said the bank “will vigorously defend ourselves against these allegations.”

A federal judge has given permission for Rothman’s lawyers to begin to seek discovery on some of the claims in the original suit, which could include seeking sworn testimony of Snyder and NFL executives, including NFL commissioner Roger Goodell.

“Our complaint clearly alleges my client, Bob Rothman, lost hundreds of millions of dollars because of Bank of America’s actions,” attorney Brian Kopp said. “In the process, the bank overloaded Dan Snyder with debt, knowing that he would have to sell the team. Even though he made a lot of money selling the team, I suspect that Dan Snyder feels that he got squeezed by the bank.”

Practically, Snyder’s relocation to London marked the beginning of his estrangement from some of his American friends and longtime associates, including nearly everyone connected with the NFL, according to several sources who speak with members of Snyder’s inner circle. During his 24 years at the helm of the Washington football team, Snyder’s closest ally among NFL owners was Jerry Jones, who told ESPN recently that he has not spoken with Snyder since he sold the team.

But bridges were burning long before the move. In October 2022, ESPN reported that Snyder told close associates that he had dug up dirt on Goodell and fellow NFL owners, including Jones, and told a close associate he would use it to “blow up” those who forced him to sell. “They can’t f— with me,” Snyder said privately.

When it came to Snyder’s nearly quarter-century partnership with the NFL, Jones said simply, “It was time for a divorce.”

WHEN HE’S IN London — and not aboard his 305-foot superyacht, the $180 million Lady S, which was docked this month off Harlingen in the Netherlands — Snyder has filled some of his days visiting Westminster pubs and restaurants, a source with firsthand knowledge says. The pubs are within walking distance of the luxury hotel where he’s been living while a condo he bought is being renovated, the source says. On other days, the source says, he visits the Chelsea office where his U.K.-based investment firm is housed.

It’s unclear how Snyder has invested the $6.05 billion windfall he received for the team he bought for $800 million in May 1999. On documents detailing his investment firm’s holdings, the Snyders list £1 million in assets.

One of Snyder’s post-Commanders’ investments backfired in a high-profile way. Snyder invested $6 million in a film titled “The Apprentice” through Kinematics, an upstart production company run by his 29-year-old son-in-law, Mark Rapaport. The film tells the story of Trump’s early years under the mentorship of lawyer and fixer Roy Cohn. When he made the investment, Snyder assumed the film would depict Trump positively, a source with firsthand knowledge told ESPN. But last February, Snyder screened the film with Rapaport at an island home and, the source said, became enraged by the decidedly negative portrait. The film was shelved until Kinematics finally sold off its stake last summer, and the filmmakers searched months for a U.S. distributor. In October, “The Apprentice” was released in the United States to box-office failure but critical acclaim and, this week, Academy Award nominations for actors Sebastian Stan and Jeremy Strong.

Within months of closing on the Commanders sale, the Snyders listed for sale their Potomac, Maryland, estate, known as “River House,” overlooking the Potomac River. The 30,000-square-foot mansion, the Snyders’ main residence since 2001, was listed for $49 million, but after it sat unsold, the Snyders slashed its price to $35 million. Still, there were no buyers.

Finally, in March, the Snyders donated the estate to the American Cancer Society. It was the largest gift in the organization’s 110-year history; the organization has still not sold the estate. It’s now listed at $29.9 million. The Snyders will be able to use the $18.5 million appraised value as a tax write-off. They’ve also listed for sale their Virginia estate, not far from George Washington’s Mount Vernon. The asking price is $60 million, but it remains vacant and unsold.

According to sources in London sports circles, Snyder in recent months has shopped for a piece of a soccer team, preferably in the Premier League, where exponential growth in team valuations rivals the NFL. A source close to the Premier League acknowledged hearing of Snyder’s interest in a club but said no formal move has been made. “I keep hearing he wants another act as a team owner — the Premier League is his dream,” said another source who was briefed on Snyder’s Premier League fandom and keen interest in an ownership stake.

Such a move would be “an act of redemption,” the source said. “He could maybe prove people wrong by getting a Premier League team. … He could reinvent himself there because he can’t do it here. He literally can’t.”

But other sources close to Snyder and in the Premier League believe he would never buy into a soccer club or any other professional sports team, for that matter. The reason isn’t because of finances, or prestige, or even baggage.

“He isn’t a fan of other sports,” one source said. “He’s a fan of the [Commanders]. That was the biggest thing.”

At the age of 6, Snyder attended his first Washington home game with his father, who scraped together enough money for two tickets. Snyder was hooked. “For him, it wasn’t somebody losing a team. This was different. He loved that team.”

IN THE MONTHS after the associates dined with Snyder in London, Washington’s season continued its stunning rise to the NFC title game, led by Jayden Daniels, the type of superstar quarterback who Snyder for years contended might save him from being forced to sell the team.

And D.C. has rallied around its team in ways it hasn’t for decades — since its last Super Bowl win after the 1991 season — and in ways Washington rarely rallies around anything.

In late December, after years of lobbying by Jason Wright and other Commanders executives, the U.S. Senate passed a bill to transfer the site of the team’s former home, RFK Stadium, to Washington, D.C., paving the way for a long-awaited new stadium. Suddenly it’s cool again to be a Washington football fan.

Even the former team employees who accused Snyder of fostering a toxic workplace have joined in, starting a text chain to discuss the turnaround with each other.

“Karma is real,” said Melanie Coburn, the former team cheerleader and marketing director who testified about the team to Congress. “For years, we endured the dysfunction and toxicity at the organization under Dan Snyder and blamed all the losses on the dark cloud he brought over the team. Turns out, we were right.”

Snyder’s outlook has evolved. There’s still anger, and he remains “in denial” about what led to his ouster, said a person close to his inner circle. But there’s also something else: “Sadness — for himself,” that person said. “It’s killing him. … It’s devastating for him.”

But even from across the pond, Snyder’s specter still hovers over the team. After Washington upset Tampa Bay in the wild-card round, its first playoff victory since Jan. 7, 2006, Josh Harris and limited partner Magic Johnson stood outside the locker room, surrounded by exuberant family members and cameras. Johnson put his right arm around Harris and spoke into the microphones.

“What does it take?” Johnson said. “New vision, new owner with a strategy, picking the right people … and then, we all step out of the way and let them do their jobs.”

“Talent, culture and people,” Harris said.

Neither man mentioned Dan Snyder’s name. There was no need.

Don Van Natta Jr. and Seth Wickersham are senior writers for ESPN. Reach them at Seth.Wickersham@espn.com and Don.VanNatta@espn.com.