In times of crisis, when chaos stalks the land and the very fabric of society is being rent by malevolent forces, it is always wise to step back for a dispassionate assessment of the situation.

So regarding the current calamity, only one conclusion can be reached: It simply doesn’t matter whether Robert Kraft moves his football team to Hartford.

Here’s why not. They played a game in Foxboro the other night — the New England Patriots vs. the Miami Dolphins. A crowd of some 40,000 exploded in a frenzy of regional pride when a guy from Washington tossed a last-minute touchdown pass to a guy from Wisconsin in a flawless execution of the West Coast Offense. The cost? An average of $45 a pop, Cheez-Whiz nachos not included.

Elsewhere, and everywhere, some 16 million TV sets were tuned in to the game. Those viewers had more comfy seats, better snacks and (except for in the rowdier households), no one got a stranger’s beer sloshed down his neck. Thus, by a ratio of at least 400-to-1, those who watched the game didn’t care where it was played, just so it was played. Those 40,000 in-person fans are no doubt splendid individuals, but as a group they are insignificant. They are less than Nielsen’s margin of error.

Pro football is a made-for-TV event; the stadium is merely the studio. So why, then, do cities furiously outbid each other to take on ruinous debt? How many dreams must the city-jumping likes of the Colts, Rams, Raiders, Oilers, Browns, Ravens and Patriots dash before the public tires of having this particular gun held to its head?

A modest proposal to stop the madness: Move all the teams to one central location, build a few state-of-the-art football studios and let the games begin. No longer would the players have to worry about selling multi-million dollar houses every time they change teams. And should one team’s ratings slip, popular players could make guest appearances, like when the “Friends” cast shows up on “Mad About You.” Nobody watching the Chargers/Chiefs? A cameo appearance by Doug Flutie would fix that.

Tens of thousands of locals could enjoy new careers as professional fans. Suddenly, being a loudmouth isn’t a character flaw, but a job skill.

Of course, in addition to rational evaluation, another valuable strategy in times of crisis is sour grapes. Mr. Kraft may be ripping the heart from one of Boston’s finer suburbs, but rest assured Hartford will regret receiving the transplant. Someday, about the time the new $350-million stadium is showing some wear and the Patriots are wooing Worcester, the wisdom of having the public cover $12.5 million a year in debt service so Mr. Kraft can profit by $90 million will be questioned.

A distantly related aside: Ewing Kauffman was the founder and owner of the Kansas City Royals baseball club; he adored the game and the city. So much so that when he died in 1993 he bequeathed the team to a consortium of local charities with the stipulations that it could be sold only when $50 million in matching funds was raised and only if the new owners kept the Royals in KC. The fund-raising was accomplished last week and a group of investors bought the team for $75 million.

Now, Kansas City charities have $125 million with which to do good and Kansas City fans will always have their Royals. This under-reported sports story is relevant to the issue at hand only to point out that not all team owners are greedy, manipulative weasels. Just the ones still living.