Dubuque, Iowa, was buzzing with excitement last year when the Iowa Power arena football team rolled into town, promising high-energy games and a fresh spark for local sports fans.
As a new franchise in the United Indoor Football Association (UIFA), the team set up shop at the historic Five Flags Center, with tickets starting at just $10 and dreams of filling the stands with fast-paced, hard-hitting action.
But what should have been a thrilling inaugural season in 2025 turned into a nightmare of broken promises and bitter fallout.
At the center of it all is Anthony Bartley, the team’s co-owner, head coach, and a veteran of indoor football with a trophy case full of championships but also a trail of past troubles that now haunt his latest venture.
Bartley, a Southern California native and U.S. Air Force veteran, stepped into Dubuque with big credentials.
He’d won 11 out of 12 championships across various leagues, including stints with the Reno Barons and Reno Express in Nevada.
He even talked up international exhibitions in places like Sweden and Finland to put the Power on the map.
Early on, everything looked promising: a press conference in April 2025 welcomed the team with open arms, and partnerships with local spots, such as Precision Spine and Pain Center and QueenB Radio, hinted at community buy-in.
The season kicked off in August with exhibition games, drawing crowds eager for that classic arena football vibe, nonstop scoring, wild plays, and family-friendly fun. Yet behind the scenes, the power was flickering out fast.
It didn’t take long for the complaints to surface. Players and staff started whispering, and then shouting about basics that weren’t being met.
Contracts promised steady pay, decent housing, and support for the grind of travel and practices, but reality hit like a missed block.
Athletes reported showing up to subpar digs that were cramped, unclean, and far from the quality they had been assured of when they signed on.
Support crews, from trainers to ops folks, found themselves scraping by without checks or resources.
One former player, echoing the frustration in a public comment, laid it bare:
“Truth be told, I was paid a whooping $75 in total. Myself and others that had to travel to Dubuque for practices and games actually spent more money to be on the team and no athletic trainer in case injuries happened, provided our own tape and other basics needs just to play. And didn’t receive any ‘team’ benefits outside of the promised compensation. That’s the truth.”
Via Facebook
These weren’t isolated gripes; they built into a chorus of voices fed up with what felt like a raw deal in a league meant to launch careers.
Frederick Elliott, a local voice, sparked the storm with a viral Facebook post about insider information from the team.
Elliott didn’t hold back, painting a picture of an organization crumbling under its own weight. He wrote-:
“The inaugural season for the Iowa Power in the UIFA United Indoor Football Association has been overshadowed not by touchdowns, but by a disturbing and relentless wave of controversy,”
Via Facebook
He detailed the non-payments stacking up, the housing that left players in tough spots, and the staff left high and dry.
Elliott even shared screenshots of desperate outreach from athletes, underscoring how personal this betrayal felt.
And it wasn’t just talk, Elliott pointed to a pattern with Bartley, noting how similar messes had followed him from Nevada leagues to other stops.
Former Baltimore Lightning owner William Dixon Hanna-Shaw and others had previously criticized Bartley’s financial missteps, ranging from bounced checks to organizational chaos that left teams struggling.
But the real gut punch came from the team itself.
In a move that’s rare as a shutout in arena ball, the Iowa Power’s official social media page dropped a bombshell post that read like a resignation letter.
Oof. Reading that, you can almost hear the locker room emptying.
It confirmed every allegation in stark, public terms and spotlighted key figures, such as Guy “Tiny” Lee, listed as line coach and owed cash, and John Guy, the veteran operations director who’d bailed mid-season.
The reactions poured in like a hail of confetti or debris from a collapsed goalpost.
Some fans and insiders rallied behind the players, sharing stories of out-of-pocket expenses and missed opportunities.
Others, like commenter Bill Jack, tried to play devil’s advocate:
“Got a big question for everyone how many players and coaches missed practices and games? We’ll there a fine for that right so here where you all should consider this was a team that was struggling thru the first ever season and rental for games were hard when no money from ticket sales were coming in yes I know there where sponsor for everything but still it a first year team for the city of Dubuque and just think you all were paid something be greatful for what you received because in the long run you could have gotten nothing so again be greatful for what you got and received.”
It’s the take that lands awkwardly, ignoring the human cost while chalking it up to startup woes.
Ticket sales were indeed slow for a debut act, and arena rentals at Five Flags aren’t cheap, but sponsors were supposed to bridge that gap, not vanish into thin air.
Then there was Bartley himself, firing back in the comments with legal heat. He wrote-:
“This needs to be removed as it is slanderous due to the termination of Brandon Henderson. The fact that people forget that there are documents proving otherwise, posting this can be also considered cause for a Libel suit….”
It’s a defensive swing, hinting at internal drama, such as Henderson’s exit, as the real culprit.
Bartley has leaned on his track record in interviews, touting that 60%+ winning percentage and Air Force grit to win over skeptics.
But in a league like UIFA, where rosters turn over fast and trust is the glue, words from “documents” ring hollow against empty bank accounts.
As November rolls in and the 2025 season dust settles, the Iowa Power sits in limbo.
The team’s website still promotes 2026 plans, featuring new sponsors and a “Meet the Team” night from January, but whispers of league scrutiny and potential ownership shake-ups persist.
Players like those who stuck it out for teammates deserve more than platitudes; they poured sweat into a dream that soured quickly.
Elliott nailed it in his post:
“The players and staff deserve respect and compensation for their dedication, and the continued operation of any sports franchise under these conditions is deeply concerning for the future of the league.”
For Dubuque, this isn’t just a football flop; it’s a reminder that passion alone doesn’t pay the bills.
Fans are watching and waiting for absolute power to return.
