As such, we alternate-universe G-State GMs are sticking to our '11-'12 time horizon. And to maximize the potential of that shining season on the hill, we will now implement Franchise Fix #8: rehabilitating the team's image with fans, advertisers, the media and the league. In this world, it's not enough to develop a great product... you also have to market that product correctly. And if we ever want to pack Oracle on a consistent basis again, attract a top-tier free agent, or help Chris Cohan sell the team on terms he finds acceptable, we are going to need to fix this brand. Two primary directives will help us do it.
Play Nice
Before anything else, we gotta class things up a little. It's one thing to be a bad team; it's quite another to be a bad team that treats people shabbily. The Wizards have been terrible many times over the years, but thanks to the generosity and loyalty of Abe Pollin, they've never inspired hatred from their fanbase or the world at large. It will take a lot to get the Warriors good again. It wouldn't take much to make them likeable again.
So the first thing we do: a few splashy charitable donations and involvements. The Warriors are already a solidly generous team (something for which Cohan never gets credit), but a new giving campaign or two couldn't hurt... there's no shortage of worthy charities in the Bay Area. We need to trumpet the idea that "the Warriors care," louder and more consistently than ever. Maybe that sounds craven to you. Well, what did I tell you about being Pollyanna, Pollyanna? Folks in need get some help, a basketball team gets a facelift, everybody wins... so what if there's cynicism behind the gesture? We're not playing paper dolls, here.
Next, we announce a 10% cut in ticket prices, and vow not to raise them again until we next reach the postseason. Again, this is not because we care so much that we're willing to throw money down the toilet... a make-good gesture to the fanbase, ideally announced by Chris Cohan himself, would pay for itself over time. 10% is big enough to make a splash -- only the Nets and Pacers cut their ticket prices by as much this season -- but not big enough to sink a franchise that still operates in the black. And the return in increased '10-'11 season ticket sales, and larger crowds that provide enough noise to re-amplify our vaunted home court advantage, would make any short-term losses more than palatable. Even on a mercenary bottom-line level, this is the right thing to do.
Thirdly, we re-institute an official mascot. Thunder was beyond lame, but his absence is lamer: kids dig a mascot. Kids get their parents to take them to basketball games; kids will, over time, grow into your most loyal and lucrative customers. It's time we threw these poor doomed Warrior-rooting kids a bone. The mascot could be a He-Man/"300"-style muscleman; it could be a lion or some other warrior-like creature; it could be Joe Laurinaitis. Doesn't really matter. Dress a dude up in a costume that children can conceptually understand, and make him do hype work and maybe some somersaulting dunks during timeouts. Every kid needs a heavily-padded former-gymnast cold-hearted shill to look up to.
Adults need mascots too. As such, we hire former Warriors in various symbolic positions. We bend over backwards to get Mitch Richmond back in some capacity, erasing this summer's disgraceful firing. We find some use for Tim Hardaway, possibly even putting him in some sort of community liaision position, as an acknowledgment of his good-faith efforts to get past his homophobia. We work very hard to take Adonal Foyle back under our wing whenever his career finally expires. In essence, we do our best to re-create the family atmospherics that existed during the Finnane/Fitzgerald days. It doesn't even matter if we mean it; we just have to do it.
Finally, we debut old-fashioned blue-and-yellow uniforms for the '10-'11 season. They stress franchise continuity, they're cool-looking, and they'll sell like gangbusters. (This one is such a no-brainer that it may come to pass even in this universe.)
That leaves only one team element left to market: the players themselves.
Push The Kids
Team slogans don't get much lamer than "It's A Great Time Out"... the Dubs have capably built some arena attractions around it, but a theme that generic is a waste of a quirky, charming, promotable roster. What we need here is a coherent hook. And since our hypothetical Dubs have a firm direction, that hook should come as no surprise.
Just about every key player on the team is fairly young, and a good number of them -- Monta, Curry, Randolph, Morrow, CJ -- have real babyfaces. We are no longer the league's youngest team, but between our players' looks and our mistake-filled crappiness, no NBA team gives off a more visceral vibe of youth than we do. It's time we instituted a slogan and ad campaign that took full advantage of that. Something like...
..."Your Golden State Warriors: Growing Up Fast." There's nothing generic about that slogan; you couldn't just slap it on the Clippers or Bobcats or Knicks and have it make sense. It acknowledges both our youth and our quick-paced style. It also doesn't suggest anything about our team quality one way or the other. It doesn't imply decency to the same degree that "A Great Time Out" does, but it doesn't preclude successful basketball, either -- "Growing Up Fast" could make a workable slogan for a 51-win team, a 34-win team or a 17-win team. Best of all, it lends itself to wacky, vibrant, attention-getting ads. There's no sense in a bad team trying to produce the same cocky "you know you want it" advertising as the Lakers. Fans aren't stupid: a commercial is not going to convince you that an 8-21 team is good, or that the star of an 8-21 team, who's on pace to commit more turnovers than anyone in the three-point era, is one of the league's best players.
But a commercial could convince you that this guy is adorable:
If you can't yet make 'em respect you, start by making 'em like you. So film some funny commercials about the young Warriors learning the ways of the basketball world. Monta in a "scared straight" program, having Sleepy Floyd scream in his face about the perils of turnovers. Keith Smart busting into Andris Biedrins's room, telling him to put down the Walkman and study his free throws. A birds-and-the-bees talk, with Chris Webber explaining to Anthony Randolph that flagrant fouls are what happen when two men hate each other very much. And if Corey Maggette's still around, our best efforts notwithstanding, we can just cast him as the harrumphing old man, yelling at the other Warriors to stay off his lawn.
Commercials like these would be cheap to produce. They could easily be written so that the shyer young Warriors only have to sit there and react, with no lines to recite. The players would have fun making them. Best of all, they'd attract some attention and make the franchise look good. Everyone else is laughing at us anyway; we might as well beat them to the punch.
Playing nice + pushing the kids = a team with a bit less stink on it. Things are moving along here. Two more Fixes, and we'll be ready to kick off the 2011-12 season in style.
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1 comment:
Pretty sick post.
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