The fall of the Empire: The inside story of how Antonio Brown cratered an entire football franchise
Like so many dynasties before it, the fall of the Albany Empire began with a slide into the DMs.
On February 21, the Arena Football League’s official account posted classic 1990s highlights of Albany Firebirds legend Eddie Brown snaring pass after touchdown pass. It’s a classic of early-’90s football: huge shoulder pads, concussive hits, over-the-shoulder catches. The compilation caught the eye of one @AB84: Brown’s son, a receiving specialist himself by the name of Antonio.
“My daddy was a legend,” Brown wrote in a quote-tweet of the video. “Imagine what that's [sic] makes me.” There are a number of ways to answer that: Super Bowl champion, NFL All-Decade wide receiver, accused lawbreaker, persistent troublemaker, author of the most dramatic take-this-job-and-shove-it in recent NFL history.
But Brown also had deep ties to the Albany area, and that’s what intrigued Mike Kwarta, the owner of the Albany Empire, a two-time reigning champion in the National Arena League. Kwarta, the owner of an Albany-area disaster restoration company, saw Brown’s tweet, and two days later, @thealbanyempir replied, “Hey @AB84 wanna make history?”, with an accompanying trophy emoji.
Direct messages flew, and soon afterward, Kwarta’s phone rang. He picked it up, heard a voice on the other end, then muted the speaker to tell his employees, “It’s Antonio Brown!”
Ten days later, Brown and Kwarta were all smiles as they signed ownership documents bringing Brown into the Empire’s executive suite -– which, in this case, was the conference room at Kwarta’s business. It was a risk, Kwarta knew, given Brown’s extensive history of legal and professional missteps. But the opportunity to use Brown’s celebrity to revitalize the team and give back to the city Kwarta loved was too tempting to resist.
Less than four months later, the Albany Empire would cease to exist.
A nostalgic start
Brown felt a kinship to Albany through his father, who starred for the Firebirds in Albany from 1994 to 2001. While Eddie Brown was dominating the arena league field, Antonio was making his way through elementary school. The experience gave him something to hold onto in a city all too often overlooked given its far more famous in-state siblings.
“It means everything to be back here in the community where I grew up as a kid,” Brown said at his introductory news conference. “It’s about keeping Albany football, sustainability, being here forever, and offering the community, the kids, the players, a great opportunity to be successful.”
It’s not easy being a sports fan — or, for that matter, a sports owner — in Albany. Closer to Boston than to Buffalo, closer to Vermont than to New York City, Albany exists in the shadow of American sports legends. Albany’s fans fall in love with the minor-league teams that call the city home, like basketball’s Patroons and baseball’s Dutchmen. All too often, though, the teams don’t love the city back.
“We don’t have the infrastructure to have the Giants, Bills or Jets,” says Jeff Levack, a local sports radio host and the former media relations director of the Empire. “It’s a perfect setup for minor league teams. But this market also has a snakebit vibe to it. As soon as [the fans] fall in love with a team, they relocate.”
Still, Albany inspires fierce loyalty in men like Kwarta, who grew up in town and remains dedicated to its people. Kwarta, who declined to speak for this story, purchased majority ownership of the Empire in November 2021, and presided over a second straight championship season … one played in front of less-than-half capacity crowds at Albany’s MVP Arena.
“Mike spent north of $180,000 in advertising, more than anything else for the team,” Levack, a childhood friend of Kwarta’s, told Yahoo Sports. “But we couldn’t get over 5,000 people in that arena. We averaged just under 3,000. Nothing was working.”
So when a local-son-made-good was showing interest in a happy homecoming, well, who could say no?
Everything started great. [Antonio] was handling the ‘get butts in seats’ part,” says Levack, who was present for much of the early days of Brown’s ownership. “Then it went from ‘I want to help’ to ‘I want to do it all.’
At the time the Empire’s social account reached out to him, Brown was barely a year removed from his dramatic last act as an NFL player: ripping off his Tampa Bay Buccaneers jersey and storming off the field in the middle of a game against the Jets. It marked an ugly end to a career defined by both magnificent peaks and bottomless valleys. He finished his career with 12,291 receiving yards and 83 touchdowns over 12 seasons, numbers which rank among the best ever produced by an NFL receiver.
But he also spent much of his career in and out of trouble, serving an eight-game suspension for personal conduct violations and pleading no contest to charges of burglary and battery, among other allegations. After parting ways with Pittsburgh in 2018, he only got a second chance in New England, and a third in Tampa Bay, thanks to the intervention of Tom Brady … whom Brown has since criticized in recent interviews.
The problematic, aggressive version of Brown was nowhere to be seen on March 2. That day, smiles spread across Albany as Brown signed on to purchase 47.5 percent of the Empire, half of Kwarta’s stake. (The final 5 percent was owned by Steve and Charlotte von Schiller, longtime season ticket holders who believed in Kwarta and the Empire enough to buy in on the enterprise.)
“I grew up here watching my dad be successful and watching [MVP Arena] erupt,” Brown said. “For me, to be in a family-oriented city like Albany, being here with my dad and my kids and just giving the community and players the opportunity to live out their dreams.”
“He talked about the Capital Region the way you talk about that one special summer, or that teacher that got through to you,” Levack says. “We thought, ‘This is perfect. This is the missing thing, a celebrity NFL star to be a part of this thing.’ ”
For longtime Albany sports fans, it was a day of both hope and nostalgia; Eddie Brown would be joining the team as well, overseeing football operations. There was talk of trophies and championships, good feelings abounding with no reservations whatsoever.
It wouldn’t last.
“Everything started great. [Antonio] was handling the ‘get butts in seats’ part,” says Levack, who was present for much of the early days of Brown’s ownership. “Then it went from ‘I want to help’ to ‘I want to do it all.’ ”
The beginning of the end
The first major problem arrived in the form of a worker’s compensation bill. The state of New York sought $1.5 million from the Empire to allow the team to practice in the state — a staggering sum given the fact that several sources place the value of the entire team at around $2 million.
In prior years, the team had practiced in Massachusetts or Connecticut to avoid the hefty New York costs. However, since employers in New York are required to provide coverage for their employees, the Empire had no choice but to comply, or risk not playing the entire season. New York State marked up the Empire’s premium by about $1.4 million, according to Brown’s accountant Alex Gunaris, because of prior ownership’s actions involving the use of workers compensation.
The New York State Insurance Fund, which administers the workers compensation insurance, is not permitted to discuss financial and premium information, but an official noted to Yahoo Sports that “insurance premiums are calculated based on the nature and extent of the risk.”
Regardless, the team faced a $1.5 million bill, and with a wealthy former NFL player in the front office, the solution was obvious to all involved. Brown and Kwarta sparred over how exactly to handle the bill, the first of what would be many contractual disputes. Brown’s trust — the Antonio El-Allah Express Trust Enterprise, which technically owned the team — eventually loaned the Empire $1.5 million to pay the bill.
“There was a very real possibility that if he didn’t come in, we might not have had a season,” former Empire quarterback Sam Castronova told Yahoo Sports. “So when he says he saved the Empire, he might not be totally wrong. But he only saved it just to kill it.”
Two days before the start of the NAL season in April, the Empire fired head coach Tom Menas over philosophical coaching differences, despite the fact that Menas had just led the team to back-to-back NAL championships and was under contract until 2025. Shortly afterward, Brown proclaimed himself the sole owner of the Empire, which both Kwarta and the von Schillers disputed. (Brown did not respond to multiple Yahoo Sports inquiries.)
Brown’s declaration of sole ownership came as a surprise to the von Schillers, as well — one of many aspects of the Empire saga that came as a shock to them. Local Albany residents — Steve works for an engineering firm, Charlotte is a schoolteacher — they often learned of the twists and turns in the Empire story through the media, and were rebuffed by Brown and his associates every time they sought a voice at the table. (The von Schillers declined to be interviewed for this story.)
With the season opener against Orlando fast approaching, some in Kwarta’s orbit suggested he just let Brown run the team into the ground. But he declined, saying he didn’t want the fans to suffer through a substandard product.
For one game, at least, everything worked out on the field; in their season debut, the Empire defeated the Orlando Predators, 70-33. Castronova threw for 229 yards — a strong performance on a 50-yard field — and six touchdowns.
During halftime, though, Brown strode onto the field during what was supposed to be a ceremony to drop the banner commemorating last year’s championship. A misunderstanding with a security guard trying to hustle Brown off the field went viral for all the wrong reasons.
Kwarta had seen enough, and three days after the win, he sold his stake of the team to Brown for $1 and extricated himself and his people from the organization. Soon afterward, the players began complaining about missed paychecks.
“He came in and wanted to change everything,” Castronova says. “The team was like, ‘We’ve been doing this a certain way, we’ve won back-to-back championships this way.’ They wanted him to improve on attendance, but he just wanted to take over everything.”
The team lost the next two games on the final play, at home against the San Antonio Gunslingers and on the road against the Carolina Cobras. On the bus ride home from Carolina, Castronova was riding in the back, watching a playback of the game with his headphones on, when he heard a commotion up front.
I gave him the benefit of the doubt — he said all the right things, took pictures with all of us — and then it went pretty much like I expected.
New head coach Damon Ware was on the phone with Brown, and the two were shouting back and forth at one another. Ten minutes later, Castronova recalls, they stopped at a gas station and Ware said he’d been fired. Several other players reached out to Brown to try to figure out what was happening, noting that they’d traveled to Carolina on faith, without having been paid.
“When we got back to the hotel [in Albany] the next morning, eight of us found we’d been locked out of our hotel rooms,” Castronova says. “I was locked out, and I hadn’t communicated with him at all. It’s a mystery to this day. Maybe it’s because I was a captain, and some guys letting him hear it were captains.” Coincidentally or not, the first eight players Brown fired from the team were among the team’s highest earners.
Castronova’s father texted Brown, who replied, in effect, that the quarterback could go make $2,000 a week elsewhere. (Rookies in the NAL make $200 a game; veterans and stars can make up to $3,000.) Castronova left Albany, obtaining his release with the NAL’s blessing, and quickly joined up with Jacksonville.
Shortly before a road game against that same Jacksonville team — where the Empire would face a highly motivated Castronova, who went 23-of-26 for 282 yards and six touchdowns — Brown announced his plans to suit up for the team. He practiced with the Empire, conducting a shirtless news conference, but said he wasn’t able to play because of issues submitting a physical. Other sources disputed that claim, noting that the owner of an NAL team could have permitted Brown to play — the owner, of course, being Brown himself.
After Ware was fired, Menas was re-hired as head coach. Less than three weeks later, he was effectively fired mid-game when Brown tweeted out during the Jacksonville loss, “New coach new trainer new players Who wanna Win?????” The Empire then hired a local high school coach, Pete Porcelli, to replace Menas; Porcelli lasted one whole week before leaving, accusing Brown of “duping the fans” with a promised appearance.
Brown, meanwhile, continued to pump hype into Albany air. He proposed a Juneteenth celebration. He called for a reunion of the beloved old Albany Firebirds. He even made a Twitter appeal to Cam Newton to come play a single game for $150,000. None of the big ideas ever came to fruition.
He also, Gunaris says, pumped money into the enterprise — as much as $2 million all told. He expects the Empire to record a loss of $700,000 to $800,000, after accounting for payroll, travel, food, lodging, arena rental and other expenses.
“Solely from a business perspective,” Gunaris says, “it didn’t make sense to keep going.”
The story of the Empire continued to turn on an almost daily basis. Cornerback Mo Leggett, who had been dealing with neck and back issues on his own, found out he was retired by reading a team transaction list. At 36, and with NFL experience in his past, he felt a paternal kinship to his teammates. Leggett took over as head coach, trying to salvage a situation that was dire and getting worse by the day.
“There was negligence in health care. Guys who got injured were refused proper treatment and had to go to urgent care on their own,” Leggett told Yahoo Sports. “There were unfit living conditions, mold in the rooms, dead bugs. My coaching staff didn’t even get housing. I had to get my own hotel.”
Meanwhile, the Empire continued to lose, falling to the Fayetteville Mustangs and Orlando to drop to 1-6 on the season. The Empire had no regular trainer and no equipment manager, and was sharing helmets — helmets owned by Riddell — on the sidelines. Brown, a presence early in the season, became a ghost, rarely spotted in Albany. Owning a team brought glory, but also constant responsibility.
“He doesn’t like anyone telling him what to do. Everything has to be his way,” Leggett says. “This is not the business for that. You have to pay your dues at the end of the day.”
“I was kind of skeptical from the beginning. Everyone was like, ‘Gosh, no way, Antonio Brown is coming here!’ I’d seen this guy had been in the news for some not-nice things,” Castronova says. “I gave him the benefit of the doubt — he said all the right things, took pictures with all of us — and then it went pretty much like I expected.”
The Empire falls
After practice in mid-June, Brown took issue with the critics on his own team. “You think I care what an NAL player say about me?” he said in a shirtless on-camera interview. “I’m giving these people jobs. I’m giving them careers. I’m giving people the opportunity to live out their dreams.” In that same interview, Brown claimed that he’d spent $2.5 million “in a city that hasn’t even come out and showed no support.”
On June 15, Leggett had run the day’s walkthrough; Brown was nowhere to be seen. Leggett and his coaches were in a staff meeting reviewing game plans when players began pounding at the door. The news had come across their phones: the Empire was out of the league, effective immediately.
The NAL had seen and endured enough. The league announced in a press release that the Empire were out, effective immediately, for failure to pay “their league mandated and overdue assessments,” a figure that totaled more than $25,000, according to Gunaris. Brown was also fined $1,000 for “conduct detrimental” to the league.
From Brown’s perspective, though, the league didn’t hold up its end of the arrangement. “We asked the league to provide us proof of other teams paying these league fees,” Gunaris says. “We wanted to make sure we weren’t being taken advantage of. … We were open to paying them, but we wanted proof, and they didn’t provide it to us.”
The removal of the Empire — and also the Mustangs, who were suffering financial difficulty — forced the NAL to redo its entire schedule for the remainder of the 15-game season.
To be honest, I think Antonio is done with Albany, which is very sad considering he grew up there.
Leggett says he then ordered his players to return all team equipment to their lockers. He and an anonymous donor helped players get enough money to get out of Albany and back to their homes.
“A lot of guys left their family to pursue the dream of playing pro sports,” Leggett says. “A lot of guys there were taking a [financial] chance on playing.”
One week after the NAL kicked out the Empire, players and coaches began texting one another, sending screenshots indicating that their paychecks had been reversed and money removed from their accounts. That happened, Gunaris says, because players and coaches stole helmets and jerseys out of the locker room after the season was canceled.
“We’re going to pay people, for sure,” Gunaris says. “We’re just reviewing who has what. Our attorneys are reviewing the security videos. If they want to return the equipment, great.” Gunaris acknowledged that the team had reversed all paychecks, coaches and players alike. “We have proof, we’re just trying to figure out the next steps. Do we sweep it under the rug, do we file criminal complaints against the players?”
Leggett disputes that characterization of events. “Our area has always been unsecured,” he says. “I also informed my players to leave the equipment and jerseys because of what would happen. Coaches wouldn’t risk their thousands of dollars owed to them for a couple hundred dollars of worthless things. It’s an attack to get out of paying us.”
As of Friday, the players were reviewing their options for legal action to address the paychecks, living conditions and the shortfalls in the Empire’s workplace, among other aspects of the last three months.
“The majority of players, they can’t move on,” Leggett says, then, as if speaking to Brown, declares, “You killed players’ seasons and careers. Just figure a way we can resolve this issue and continue on with our lives.”
Brown, meanwhile, has apparently vanished from Albany. “He left like a thief in the night,” Levack says, “and to my knowledge he hasn’t been here since.”
“Antonio definitely wants to keep the Empire alive,” Gunaris says. “I believe the Empire will be somewhere else based on how we were treated. … To be honest, I think Antonio is done with Albany, which is very sad considering he grew up there.”
Levack still hopes that arena football has a future in Albany, just without Brown’s involvement. Chris Siegfried, commissioner of the NAL, has said the league would welcome back the Empire in 2024 with the proper structure in place.
Kwarta owns the intellectual property of multiple Albany teams of years gone by — Blackjacks, Valor, Brigade, Firebirds — and could bring back one of those, or start a new team entirely. (It’s unclear who exactly owns the Empire’s IP at this point.) Either way, Levack knows that after the last three months, getting fans to buy in on any new venture is going to be a tough sell.
“Can we get these people to give us one more chance?” Levack says. “That’s the hardest thing, after inviting the fox into the hen house.”
