Overview:
From trust in the rebuild to frustration over reduced perks, Memphis Grizzlies MVPs explain why they’re still invested — but no longer quiet.
The Memphis Grizzlies asked their most loyal supporters to trust the foundation. What they received in return was not blind belief. It was an evaluation.
When the organization emailed MVP Season Ticket Members about the future, the tone was steady and optimistic. This is not “starting over.” The core is young. The draft capital is strong. Toughness and tenacity remain priorities. The arena experience will continue to improve.
On paper, it reads like stability.
Inside FedExForum, it feels like a crossroads.
Because this moment is not just about roster construction. It is about trust. It is about identity. It is about whether the most invested people in the building still feel like partners — or customers.
Nathan Burroughs, who has held season tickets for four seasons and followed the team since its move from Vancouver, remains confident.
“I completely trust the direction of the organization,” he said.
Burroughs sees Memphis reflected in “blue-collar, hard-working” players who “play their hearts out.” He points to drafting success, the economic realities of a mid-market franchise and the weight of injuries this season. He urges patience with a first-year head coach. “I’m from Memphis and I bleed Beale Street blue.”
For Burroughs, this is not dysfunction. It is development.
Robert Sternburgh, a 12-year MVP member, also believes the foundation is there. Though he described the renewal message as “damage control,” his confidence rests in “the excellent young talent that we already have.”
His philosophy is simple and unsentimental: “Win and people will come and support. Bottom line.”
Mehdi Sadeghi, a season ticket holder since day one, carries the belief with caution. Transparency, he admits, has been inconsistent. “You just wonder if you can trust anything they say any more.”
Still, Sadeghi supports rebuilding if it is guided by basketball expertise and executed with clarity.
For these MVPs, the franchise is recalibrating; however, for others, it feels like erosion.
Kandi Horton, now in her second season as an MVP, understands the timeline. “I feel like they know it is going to take a minute before we are restored as a contender,” she said.
Her loyalty is intact. Her patience has conditions.
“The product is the product and I’ll always support them, win or lose,” Horton said. “But I’m not about to pay to get the same fan experience.”
For Horton, the shift is tangible. Early entry access feels different. Shoot-around privileges require more steps. The exclusivity that once defined MVP membership feels thinner.
The frustration is not just about losing. It’s about value and being valued.
Connie Booker felt little reassurance in the renewal message. “Meh,” was her response.
She described the organization’s words and actions as disconnected, and admitted she delayed reviewing pricing for next year because she was “disgusted with this season.”
Booker also pointed to what she sees as a steady thinning of the MVP tier.
“Perks have been cut back every year,” she said.
And you can feel that shift if you walk the concourse. The lines look the same. The lights still flash. The music still hits. But longtime MVPs say something intangible feels quieter. The energy is different. The buzz that once felt automatic now feels conditional. The cheers are still there, but they come with folded arms and raised eyebrows.
When the product feels uncertain and the perks feel reduced, loyalty begins to feel taken for granted.
Montrel Franklin, a 16-year season ticket holder, sees a deeper issue.
“Definitely not! Not grit, no grind!”
He does not believe the roster reflects Memphis. He wants visible competitiveness. “Put Ja [Morant] and [Zach] Edey out there and compete! That’s what we pay for!” Both Morant and Edey are sidelined with injuries.
Still, he is not walking away. “I’m Memphis inside out regardless … 16 years in!”
Dedric Pearson, entering his 19th (or 20th) season, does not soften his criticism. “Call a spade a spade and STAND on business, this is a rebuild,” he said.
Pearson believes the franchise lacks the toughness Memphis embodies. “This team is soft and doesn’t reflect the identity of Memphis … tough, gritty and relentless.” He wants accountability from the front office through the coaching staff and urged the organization to “appreciate your fans and give them quality.”
Cheryl Metcalf, now in her second season as an MVP after previously holding tickets during the 2013-2014 season, sees something slipping beyond wins and losses.
“I’m not seeing and have not seen anything as far as moves that makes me think they’re serious about a championship,” she said.
She described the direction as “throwing crap against the wall to see what sticks” and believes the Memphis identity has been fading. “The atmosphere at the games is not the same and hasn’t been for a minute and not because they’re not winning.”
Deborrah Neal, in her 18th season, is weary of the cycle. “If they have a good team they should add on to it instead of tearing it down and rebuilding every three to four years,” she said in frustration.
Neal believes leadership change would restore confidence. Yet she ends where so many do: “I am the number-one fan and I support my hometown.”
Brady Johnston, also 18 years in, captures the unease. “What is our identity anymore?” he asked.
He believes the MVP experience must “improve greatly” and that the organization must communicate a clearer vision. Yet he also understands the franchise’s power.
“The Grizzlies are the only thing that can rally every corner of the 901… united over something; OUR team.”
That is the truth underneath all of it.
Some MVPs trust the rebuild. Others reject it. Some see promise. Others see drift. Many feel the membership experience has thinned. Several feel the product lacks the grit that once defined Memphis basketball.
But none of them are casual. None of them are indifferent. Their frustration is not apathy. It is ownership. The Grizzlies are rebuilding. Their fans are recalibrating. They are not walking away. They are leaning in, demanding clarity, competitiveness and respect for the commitment they continue to make.
In Memphis, loyalty does not disappear quietly. It speaks up. And right now, it sounds different.