Now for the start we really wanted: Melbourne
“Are you sitting down? the Australian accented female voice asked down the telephone with more than a hint of mischief.
“What do you want?” I demanded querulously.
“I represent Qantas Airways,” the voice continued unperturbed. “Have you heard of us?”
“You obviously did not ring to educate me about the world’s airlines and I am not particularly bothered about yours,” I said, “so if you have a point to make you’d best make it quickly.”
“Well, Mr Githinji, we discovered your interest in Formula One through reading your blog on the Internet and would like to offer you two free tickets to this year’s Australian Grand Prix and premier hospitality in the restricted corporate entertainment area at the Albert Park Circuit in Melbourne.”
I was at first nonplussed. Somebody reading my musings had decided to offer me a gift worth at least £1,000 simply because they liked what I wrote about. It seemed a little too slick, other-worldly even. I said “thank you very much for letting me know. You can send the tickets to me at my London address.”
“We would rather not do that for security reasons, sir. The tickets will be available for you to collect at the Albert Park any time from Wednesday 23 March. All you have to do is present some identification, such as your passport, to the Qantas representative at the Park and…”
I interrupted her: “you seem to be overlooking the slightly inconvenient fact that the distance between London and Melbourne is well in excess of 10,000 miles!”
“You did not allow me to finish, sir. You will need to provide evidence that you and the person accompanying you have flown to Melbourne in Business Class with Qantas Airways. Your boarding pass stub will do adequately.”
“We have come to the point of this phone call, I see. You chaps are struggling to fill your planes. Two business class tickets at over £3,000 apiece is well worth a few smarmy phone calls, isn’t it?”
“I think you’ll find that Qantas continues to be one of the world’s most profitable airlines.”
“I am sure it is! Why on earth wouldn’t it be? But for my piece of mind, I shall be delighted to accept your generous offer if you will be so kind as to send me your flight occupancy figures for the last three months.”
The line went dead.
This incident reflects the difficulties encountered in marketing goods and services in the age of multimedia. Twenty years ago, if you had a catchy enough but cleverly irritating advertising jingle like “Mr Sheen shines umpteen things clean!” you were pretty much assured that it would be ringing through the brains of at least half the country while they struggled to do something else. We have all been there: “what’s my daughter’s birthday, dash it!...Mr Sheen shines…is it 14 August, or is it…umpteen things clean! Blast!” Now you have to work very hard to get an entire country glued to its television sets at the same time on the same day.
But companies have to sell things or else they die. This is why I have lots of things handed to me for free at many street corners of London various times a week. One day it might be a new flavour of Coke, the next it might be a new laundry detergent, or a new cereal bar, or a new type of yogurt, and so on. Since the companies know there is little chance of catching my attention on television, radio or in a newspaper, they give me their product to try for free and hope that I will like it enough to buy more of it in the future
Sport, however, provides perhaps the last universal marketing point. If Arsenal are playing in the European Champions League semi-final, you know that there will be a global audience of one billion plus watching the game at the same time. That is why companies now offer large sums of money to football clubs to have their names included on the teams’ strips or to have naming rights at the teams’ grounds. Twenty years ago a large international bank sponsoring a football club was unimaginable; now Standard Chartered PLC has its logo prominently displayed on the shirts worn by Liverpool Football Club’s players. It’s a clever marketing ploy: instead of spending millions designing adverts for different parts of the world, now the bank can relax in the knowledge that every time Steven Gerrard runs across a football field when playing for Liverpool, the words “Standard Chartered” will be emblazoned across his chest for all the world to see. Similarly, a part of North London never previously known to have had anything to do with the United Arab Emirates is now the home of the Emirates Stadium (Arsenal FC’s ground).
But Formula One got in on this game well before football. Every last inch of a team’s car is worth lots of money, depending on how successful that team is. At the start of the 2009 season, the new team Brawn had virtually spotless white cars. Nobody knew how they were going to perform and it was difficult for the team boss, Ross Brawn, to persuade companies to give him some money and have their names on his cars. The situation quickly resolved itself. By the end of the season, when Brawn was heading inexorably towards winning the constructors’ championship, the team’s livery had a healthy peppering of useful brand names all over it. It is not that different for drivers either. During his Ferrari days, Michael Schumacher’s forehead was the most expensive advertising space in the world; for a company to earn the right to have its name on Schumacher’s cap a fat cheque had to be handed over.
For these reasons, a sensible suggestion by the new FIA boss, Jean Todt, that drivers’ numbers are displayed more prominently and in larger letters on cars (how many times have you observed a Ferrari or a McLaren spin out and had to wait for the slow motion replay to work out which of the team’s two drivers was involved in the incident?) has not been received with much enthusiasm. Unfortunately, placing number 1 more prominently on Sebastian Vettel’s car means that Red Bull has less advertising space to sell - stickers bearing car numbers are never accompanied by fat cheques!
Aside from these distractions, we have the minor matter of the start of a brand new Formula One season to deal with this weekend. Despite the best efforts of Bernie Ecclestone to kill the sport by taking money from dodgy people and handing race rights to places with no motor racing history and which cannot even rustle up a dozen genuine fans, the competitiveness of Formula One has got better, not worse, in the last few years. We are enjoying an unprecedented period in the history of the sport. For the first time ever five men who have held the tile of F1 world champion – Michael Schumacher, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton, Jenson Button and Sebastian Vettel - will be battling for honours this season. Alongside them will be at least three others – Nico Rosberg, Mark Webber and Felipe Massa – who are just as capable of competing at the very top. A fourth very talented driver, Robert Kubica, would have added to the unpredictability of this season but, sadly, he was badly injured in a rallying accident earlier this year and will probably not be back before the end of the season, if ever.
The Bahraini Arabs may not have intended this when they began their protests but Melbourne is where the new season is to be launched. There should never have been any debate as to where the new F1 year ought properly to begin. No sportsman - not even a Premier League footballer - is as self-obsessed as a Formula One driver; particularly one who has ascended to the lofty heights of a world championship. It is far better for a chap like that to begin the racing year in a sun-drenched, beautiful city with a long tradition of hosting exciting motor races than in a dusty, poorly designed circuit in the middle of the Arabian desert. Doubtless, you will agree as you settle down to the Australian Grand Prix on Sunday. Pity it has to be at the crack of dawn, though.
Gitau
22 March 2011
“What do you want?” I demanded querulously.
“I represent Qantas Airways,” the voice continued unperturbed. “Have you heard of us?”
“You obviously did not ring to educate me about the world’s airlines and I am not particularly bothered about yours,” I said, “so if you have a point to make you’d best make it quickly.”
“Well, Mr Githinji, we discovered your interest in Formula One through reading your blog on the Internet and would like to offer you two free tickets to this year’s Australian Grand Prix and premier hospitality in the restricted corporate entertainment area at the Albert Park Circuit in Melbourne.”
I was at first nonplussed. Somebody reading my musings had decided to offer me a gift worth at least £1,000 simply because they liked what I wrote about. It seemed a little too slick, other-worldly even. I said “thank you very much for letting me know. You can send the tickets to me at my London address.”
“We would rather not do that for security reasons, sir. The tickets will be available for you to collect at the Albert Park any time from Wednesday 23 March. All you have to do is present some identification, such as your passport, to the Qantas representative at the Park and…”
I interrupted her: “you seem to be overlooking the slightly inconvenient fact that the distance between London and Melbourne is well in excess of 10,000 miles!”
“You did not allow me to finish, sir. You will need to provide evidence that you and the person accompanying you have flown to Melbourne in Business Class with Qantas Airways. Your boarding pass stub will do adequately.”
“We have come to the point of this phone call, I see. You chaps are struggling to fill your planes. Two business class tickets at over £3,000 apiece is well worth a few smarmy phone calls, isn’t it?”
“I think you’ll find that Qantas continues to be one of the world’s most profitable airlines.”
“I am sure it is! Why on earth wouldn’t it be? But for my piece of mind, I shall be delighted to accept your generous offer if you will be so kind as to send me your flight occupancy figures for the last three months.”
The line went dead.
This incident reflects the difficulties encountered in marketing goods and services in the age of multimedia. Twenty years ago, if you had a catchy enough but cleverly irritating advertising jingle like “Mr Sheen shines umpteen things clean!” you were pretty much assured that it would be ringing through the brains of at least half the country while they struggled to do something else. We have all been there: “what’s my daughter’s birthday, dash it!...Mr Sheen shines…is it 14 August, or is it…umpteen things clean! Blast!” Now you have to work very hard to get an entire country glued to its television sets at the same time on the same day.
But companies have to sell things or else they die. This is why I have lots of things handed to me for free at many street corners of London various times a week. One day it might be a new flavour of Coke, the next it might be a new laundry detergent, or a new cereal bar, or a new type of yogurt, and so on. Since the companies know there is little chance of catching my attention on television, radio or in a newspaper, they give me their product to try for free and hope that I will like it enough to buy more of it in the future
Sport, however, provides perhaps the last universal marketing point. If Arsenal are playing in the European Champions League semi-final, you know that there will be a global audience of one billion plus watching the game at the same time. That is why companies now offer large sums of money to football clubs to have their names included on the teams’ strips or to have naming rights at the teams’ grounds. Twenty years ago a large international bank sponsoring a football club was unimaginable; now Standard Chartered PLC has its logo prominently displayed on the shirts worn by Liverpool Football Club’s players. It’s a clever marketing ploy: instead of spending millions designing adverts for different parts of the world, now the bank can relax in the knowledge that every time Steven Gerrard runs across a football field when playing for Liverpool, the words “Standard Chartered” will be emblazoned across his chest for all the world to see. Similarly, a part of North London never previously known to have had anything to do with the United Arab Emirates is now the home of the Emirates Stadium (Arsenal FC’s ground).
But Formula One got in on this game well before football. Every last inch of a team’s car is worth lots of money, depending on how successful that team is. At the start of the 2009 season, the new team Brawn had virtually spotless white cars. Nobody knew how they were going to perform and it was difficult for the team boss, Ross Brawn, to persuade companies to give him some money and have their names on his cars. The situation quickly resolved itself. By the end of the season, when Brawn was heading inexorably towards winning the constructors’ championship, the team’s livery had a healthy peppering of useful brand names all over it. It is not that different for drivers either. During his Ferrari days, Michael Schumacher’s forehead was the most expensive advertising space in the world; for a company to earn the right to have its name on Schumacher’s cap a fat cheque had to be handed over.
For these reasons, a sensible suggestion by the new FIA boss, Jean Todt, that drivers’ numbers are displayed more prominently and in larger letters on cars (how many times have you observed a Ferrari or a McLaren spin out and had to wait for the slow motion replay to work out which of the team’s two drivers was involved in the incident?) has not been received with much enthusiasm. Unfortunately, placing number 1 more prominently on Sebastian Vettel’s car means that Red Bull has less advertising space to sell - stickers bearing car numbers are never accompanied by fat cheques!
Aside from these distractions, we have the minor matter of the start of a brand new Formula One season to deal with this weekend. Despite the best efforts of Bernie Ecclestone to kill the sport by taking money from dodgy people and handing race rights to places with no motor racing history and which cannot even rustle up a dozen genuine fans, the competitiveness of Formula One has got better, not worse, in the last few years. We are enjoying an unprecedented period in the history of the sport. For the first time ever five men who have held the tile of F1 world champion – Michael Schumacher, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton, Jenson Button and Sebastian Vettel - will be battling for honours this season. Alongside them will be at least three others – Nico Rosberg, Mark Webber and Felipe Massa – who are just as capable of competing at the very top. A fourth very talented driver, Robert Kubica, would have added to the unpredictability of this season but, sadly, he was badly injured in a rallying accident earlier this year and will probably not be back before the end of the season, if ever.
The Bahraini Arabs may not have intended this when they began their protests but Melbourne is where the new season is to be launched. There should never have been any debate as to where the new F1 year ought properly to begin. No sportsman - not even a Premier League footballer - is as self-obsessed as a Formula One driver; particularly one who has ascended to the lofty heights of a world championship. It is far better for a chap like that to begin the racing year in a sun-drenched, beautiful city with a long tradition of hosting exciting motor races than in a dusty, poorly designed circuit in the middle of the Arabian desert. Doubtless, you will agree as you settle down to the Australian Grand Prix on Sunday. Pity it has to be at the crack of dawn, though.
Gitau
22 March 2011
posted by Gitau at 4:10 pm
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