ORLANDO, Fla. — When it comes to the Orlando Dreamers and the burgeoning public campaign to bring Major League Baseball to Central Florida, Orange County Mayor Jerry Demings hasn’t exactly grabbed a bat and sprinted out of the dugout.

He hasn’t thrown out the ceremonial first pitch. He hasn’t been photographed in an Orlando Dreamers cap. He hasn’t rushed to a microphone to declare that MLB in Orlando is a grand slam just waiting to happen.

And you know what?

That’s OK.

As much as I’m on the baseball bandwagon and as much as I think Orlando has a real shot at landing the Tampa Bay Rays if they become available, Mayor Demings is probably playing it smart by staying quiet, even if I wish he’d say, “If the Rays need a new home, Orlando’s only 85 miles away, and we’re open for business, baby!”

There are some critics who believe Demings is anti-baseball, but I’m willing to give him the benefit of the doubt and say this is all part of his master plan. If we’re talking baseball metaphors, Demings knows it’s not quite time to swing for the fences. He’s not trying to be the showboating slugger. He’s the patient leadoff hitter, working the count, waiting for the right pitch. In short: he’s playing small ball. And for a man whose job is to protect the financial interests of 1.5 million Orange County residents, that’s exactly what he should be doing.

“I’m open to the (baseball) conversation,” Demings told Ryan Elijah of Fox 35 earlier this week. “The conversation has to work both for the ownership groups and it has to work for our community. I’m very interested in seeing how many dollars the ownership groups will bring to the table to make it a reality. If it doesn’t have the right balance, it won’t see the light of day. If it has the right balance, it has a chance.”

I believe if the Rays leave Tampa, Orlando would not only have a chance; we would be a lock. According to Gov. Ron DeSantis, MLB Commissioner Rob Manfred has made it clear that he wants to keep a second team in Florida, besides the Miami Marlins. And it certainly appears Orlando’s effort is gaining financial and political momentum.

Orlando resident Rick Workman, the founder of the largest dental services corporation in the country, has agreed to be the anchor investor while another longtime Orlandoan — John Morgan, the founder of the largest injury law firm in the country — has said he is willing to invest hundreds of millions of dollars in the project.

Orange County Commissioner Michael Scott, who represents the International Drive tourism district near the proposed stadium location, came out earlier this week and endorsed the baseball effort. In addition, the International Drive Chamber of Commerce, made up of many influential business leaders in the tourism district, has invited the key figures in the baseball effort — Workman, Morgan, Dreamers co-founder Jim Schnorf and Dreamers frontman and MLB Hall of Famer Barry Larkin — to a panel discussion next month.

Still, there is much work to be done. Yes, it’s fun to dream about Orlando having a baseball team, but dreams don’t pay for stadiums. And stadiums, especially in 2025, don’t come cheap.

Any team that relocates or expands into Orlando is going to want a stadium — a state-of-the-art, domed/retractable-roofed, fan-friendly stadium with all the bells and whistles. (Hey, it’s Orlando, how about a roller coaster in center field?) And any stadium of that scale will require a public-private partnership. That’s not speculation. That’s straight from Manfred.

The “private” side of that equation will fall to the owners and investors like Workman and Morgan. But the “public” side? That’s where things get delicate. And that’s where Demings has to tread carefully.

Because what MLB calls a “partnership,” taxpayers often call a “subsidy.” And no matter how appealing the concept of big league baseball in Orlando might be, it’s Demings’ job to negotiate the best deal possible. And to do that, he can’t come out of the box waving pennants and singing “Take Me Out to the Ballgame.”

He has to say things like he told Channel 9 the other day: “The conversation can’t just be about making wealthy people wealthier. … I don’t think we should donate land to billionaires or to wealthy people. They, if anything, have to compensate the people for the land.”

The Dreamers have said they are willing to contribute more than $1 billion to stadium financing and obviously Demings knows that the county will have to make a sizable investment as well. If I’ve written it once, I’ve written it a zillion times: In an ideal world, billionaire owners should have to pay for their own stadiums or arenas and shouldn’t get public handouts to build their palatial venues. But in the real world, cities have to ante up if they want big league sports teams. Why? Because if they don’t, another city will.

It should also be noted that Demings is more than a little nervous right now about making any public promises about helping to finance a baseball stadium. The most obvious source of public funding would be the Tourist Development Tax — the bed tax collected on hotel stays in Orange County. Historically, that tax has been a powerful tool in Central Florida’s economic playbook, funding everything from the convention center to sports venues and arts facilities. And it’s always been up to the Orange County Commission to decide how and where it gets spent.

But that local control is under threat. In recent months, state legislators have begun circling the TDT like hungry buzzards, wanting to take control of the tourism-generated kitty filled with the free money generated when millions of people like Larry and Linda Lunchpail bring the kids to Disney and Universal for the week. The rhetoric is clear: some state leaders think they should have a say in how counties spend money collected from tourists.

Understandably, that’s a wild card Demings can’t ignore. If Tallahassee takes the reins on the TDT, Orange County may have little say on how much of that money goes to a baseball stadium.

So when people ask why Demings hasn’t been more vocal in support of the Dreamers, I don’t believe it’s because he’s anti-baseball. It’s because the financial framework that could make it happen is unsettled — and potentially out of his hands.

And, so, in baseball terms, Mayor Demings isn’t swinging wildly at the first pitch.

He’s not falling for a curveball in the dirt.

He’s watching.

Calculating the count.

Protecting the plate.

Waiting for his moment to change the game.

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