This week I would like to depart from tradition and begin with a short personal announcement. The author of this column is for sale, or at least available for sponsorship.
Having considered most of the implications – most compellingly the need to bring an end to the increasingly fraught correspondence with my bank - I’ve decided to abandon the last remaining vestiges of personal dignity and make myself available for hire to…well, anybody really.
There are of course some practical problems, not least of them the fact that there is a limited market for mid-life media types who, as the old gag goes, aren’t even household names in their own household.
Even so, I can’t help thinking that there’s a commercial organisation somewhere out there which could see some benefit in paying me a large sum. If nothing else, there must be a plastic surgeon who would look upon this face and see scope for development; a fresh canvas on which to build a reputation, a career, a fortune. Ours would be a partnership made in facial restructuring heaven. For the right fee I’d happily go about my daily business as a permanent living and breathing billboard for the surgeon’s art. Anything is possible - nothing is beneath me.
This more assertive approach to income generation was triggered this week by the news that snooker legend Jimmy White has changed his name to Jimmy Brown in order to promote HP sauce. Now for those who have spent their lives in a parallel gastronomic universe, HP sauce is a British institution. It’s a thick, spicy, brown sauce, poured direct from the bottle onto just about any dish that doesn’t involve custard. There are those who love it for its own sake and others who simply appreciate that its flavour is sufficiently powerful to mask the true taste of what’s on the plate. Dollop on the HP and you get almost everything to taste the same. Its real role is to elevate even the worst of English cooking to a spicy but acceptable sameness. HP is quintessentially British but, like so many other British bits of kit, is owned by the French.
Not only has Jimmy Chameleon changed his name to better accommodate his sponsors, he has agreed to play in a brown tuxedo (with a pale blue bow tie to match the HP label). HP Sauce will also sponsor the brown ball in an upcoming tournament that will be screened on the BBC, unless of course the corporation’s stance on overt advertising leads them to re-think their involvement.
Of course, none of this is entirely new. A few years ago an Aussie Rules footballer changed his legal name to Whiskas so that the name of the cat food appeared on the back of his jersey.
And there have been other sponsorship stunts. Wasn’t it only last month that SpecSavers, the UK opticians, offered soccer referees a free eye test after one of their number failed to spot that a goal had been scored in a game between Manchester United and Spurs. This PR stunt was nailed onto the back of the company’s established sponsorship of referees in Scotland. Elsewhere we’ve had a tabloid newspaper paying to place its logo on the soles of the boots of an over-matched boxer, confident of exposure when the poor sop inevitably landed on the canvas.
But while each of these, er, initiatives has raised a smile and generated column inches, they do raise a serious issue.
At a time when the sponsorship sector is desperately striving to convince the rest of the marketing world that it is worth its place at the top table alongside the ad agencies, direct marketing specialists and PR consultants, it needs HP’s novelty sponsorship and the publicity surrounding it like a hole in the head.
This may sound as though there’s been a sense of humour failure but sponsorship isn’t about cheap tricks. Its about developing relationships and marketing through association and can’t afford to be seen as the novelty item discarded in the marketing file.
Champions of sponsorship appreciate the complexity of the discipline; its subtlety and ability to meet a broad range of objectives, certainly broader than traditional advertising. If it simply becomes shorthand for PR stunt they might as well give up and go home right now.
That said, I’m still open to offers!
* * * * * * *
Ellen Macarthur’s phenomenal achievement in beating the round-the-world sailing record has ensured that sailing has not been out of the headlines this week. Her skill, physical and mental toughness make her an inspiration to us all and, assuming her triumph elevates her to riches and superstardom, she deserves every penny.
In supporting her attempt B&Q have delivered a wonderful example of what sponsorship can and should be about and how it should be delivered. The value of the unremittingly positive coverage and the association with this a modern day adventurer will be absolutely enormous.
But in the excitement around Ellen’s success, the world rather lost sight of another round-the-world race that was getting under way in Qatar. The Oryx challenge is the first of two planned events run under the auspices of a venture between Qatar and Tracey Edwards. It is of particular interest because it is the latest example of how this tiny Middle East state is increasingly turning to sport to raise its profile of the world stage.
Qatar’s capital Doha will stage the 2006 Asian Games, it has invested to attract world class golf and tennis tournaments, hosts a round of the MotoGP championship and has spent hundreds of millions of dollars on the Aspire College which, it hopes, will make it a magnet for sportsmen and women from the region and around the world.
In neighbouring Dubai a similar policy is being pursued and we may anticipate the tax breaks being offered to sports federations will ensure that many will follow the ICC and set up shop beneath the palms in the years ahead. Money talks and when it comes to sport the Middle East has an increasingly influential voice.
* * * * * *
One final observation on Ellen McArthur’s triumph. It prompted this probably spoof letter that has been doing the rounds in the last 48 hours. It is addressed to the customer services department of sponsors B&Q:
Dear Sir/Madam
My congratulations to you on getting a yacht to leave the UK on 28th November 2004, sail 27,354 miles around the world and arrive back 72 days later.
Could you please let me know when the kitchen I ordered 96 days ago will be arriving from your warehouse 13 miles away?
