Uh-oh. Major League Baseball is marketing its stars. We all know how this one turns out, don't we?
Don't get me wrong. I adore the new series of #THIS spots featuring Buck Showalter's narration, Giancarlo Stanton's bats, Mike Trout's fans, Felix Hernandez's magical delivery and David Price's exuberance. And apparently the #THIS campaign will continue as branding for top highlights (like this one with Giancarlo Stanton).
Like I said, bully for them. If you’re crazy about baseball (and I happen to know that you are), you’ll probably gobble these up like Mr. Ed with a big juicy carrot. Craig really loves the Showalter spot.
Will any of it actually work, though? On The New Yorker’s website, Wendy Thurm’s got a great look at MLB’s latest efforts to create their own LeBron James, or Peyton Manning; somebody with a respectable Q Score across this great land.
Before you read any more here, I highly recommend that you go read all of Wendy’s piece, because all of it’s worth reading... but here’s her big finish:
Baseball’s drive to create the next Derek Jeter is understandable. Jeter represented excellence on the field and avoided trouble off it (despite the best efforts of New York tabloids). He drew people to the game, whether you rooted for the Yankees or not. But Jeter wasn’t a media creation. He was a great player fortunate enough to play in New York during a time when the Yankees were perennial postseason contenders. On the biggest stage, he propelled the Yankees to five World Series championships with iconic home runs and game-saving plays that will live on in highlight reels forever.
Other than Posey, few of the game’s young stars have played October baseball. Trout and Kershaw are exceptions, but they both gave forgettable, uninspiring performances in the postseason. M.L.B. is trying to evoke greatness and inspire growth with ads, but without organic touchstone moments to build on. It’s a feel-good campaign for a league that feels good about its present. The future is another story.
Just a small quibble or two here.
One, I’m not at all sure that Derek Jeter “drew people to the game, whether they rooted for the Yankees or not.”
Oh, I’m sure some kids in Kentucky and Florida and North Dakota and Hawaii were drawn to Jeter, and thus to baseball. But I’ll bet the actual number, if you could have found it, wouldn’t have moved the needle on MLB’s measurable popularity or revenues. Which isn’t to say that Derek Jeter wasn’t an asset for MLB. Rather, if you don’t replace him, you won’t actually notice. Well, except for maybe the bean-counters in apparel licensing. But that’s of course a tiny line item, compared to television and ticket moneys.
Wendy’s central point is dead-on, though: You cannot create a baseball superstar.
There are a couple of ways for a pop superstar to arise. One of them, as Wendy notes, is through “organic touchstone moments.”
This one’s really, really tough, though. Think about it. Where do those moments come from?
Well, there are All-Star highlights. Reggie Jackson in particular comes to mind. But with the ever-expanding rosters and the everybody-gets-to-play mentality, the best players have fewer at-bats than in Reggie’s day. Oh, also: Not nearly as many people are actually watching the games.
There are the big postseason moments. Hey, Reggie again! But with so many more teams than the old days, and so many more rounds in the postseason, there’s a much smaller chance for a particular player to pile up huge postseason moments. Mickey Mantle played in a dozen World Series. DiMaggio nine, Ruth seven, Reggie five.
Now, Jeter and his long-time teammates did play in six World Series, and piled up some big moments. But who’s the next superstar in six? Buster Posey’s already been on three championship teams ... but if you’re not a Giants fan, how many Buster Posey moments can you recall? Not counting terrifying leg injuries?
So here you’ve got an immensely talented, immensely likeable superstar with three championship rings ... and if he walked through a shopping mall in Little Rock, what would happen? Sure, he might attract a few autograph-seekers. But not like Reggie Jackson would have, 40 years ago. Or Pete Rose, or Tom Seaver. Or before them, Mickey Mantle and Willie Mays, Sandy Koufax and Don Drysdale, Ted Williams and Joe DiMaggio.
I don’t mean to suggest that a baseballer can’t become quite famous, and bring people to the game. If you had a tremendous player who a) generated a lot of heat on the field, and b) said or did interesting things off the field – which probably leaves out Mike Trout and most of the rest of today’s stars, who have been trained to be boring – well, then you might have something.
But then, to what end?
Today, right now, Major League Baseball is ridiculously healthy. For a number of reasons, attendance in the majors seems to have plateaued, at least for the moment. But the minor leagues and spring training set new attendance records every year, and MLB’s television revenues have reached levels that were practically unimaginable just a few years ago. It’s not at all clear to me why anyone really cares about this, seeing as how the owners and the players must by now be running out of ways to spend all the money. I mean, you can buy only so many yachts and Albert Pujolses.
So (you might ask) if trying to create a Jeter- or Ripken-like superstar is impossible, and not even really so necessary, why are all those smart people in New York trying so hard?
Because it’s expected of them. Because the players are jealous of the NBA’s and NFL’s stars and all their shoe contracts and TV commercials. Because writers and radio hosts love to enumerate the areas where baseball falls short of the other sports, and chief among those areas is high-profile, tabloid-style visibility. Because there’s some thought, however misguided, that today’s (supposedly) vapid, ADD-afflicted youth won’t ever come to baseball without some help from high-priced opinion-makers.
Can you tell I’m a little skeptical? I hope Buster Posey and Andrew McCutchen and Mike Trout become national figures. The more popular baseball is, the easier my life. Myopia aside, though, baseball doesn’t need those guys any more than it needed Derek Jeter. Which wasn’t a lot. At all.
