Sponsoring team identity into oblivion

And in the sport:
There are concerns over Bryan Vodacom Habana’s pace after a Sasol/British Airways Bok training session in which he was chased down by the entire Wildeklawer Onions Griquas squad. Speculation is rife that after interference from new selector Cheeky “Black Like Me” Watson, coach Peter “Magnum” de Villiers may be forced to drop the Vodacom Bulls speedster from the Sasol/British Airways Springboks squad. In other news, Enrico “King Pie” Januarie and the recalled Ollie “Spur” le Roux have been bunked together in an effort to diffuse tensions after the pair’s punch-up in last year’s Absa Currie Cup while Percy “Timotei” Montgomery and Kabamba “NikNaks” Floors had a training spat over who has the darker roots. Montgomery apologised when he realised Floors was arguing for heritage. And lastly, the ANC “JCI” Youth League felt it was helpful and timely before the Vodacom Tri-Nations to declare that they are dissatisfied with black quotas. New Sasol/British Airways Bok manager Francois “Lays” Pienaar was unavailable for comment.

Fanciful that branding and sponsorship could go so far? The way things are going, you never know. A case in point: as a professional South African rugby player, after thanking Die Vader, Ma en Pa and creatine and shaking hands with your opponents, what is the first thing you do after 80 minutes of bone-crunching engagement? Hug the mascot? Have a drink? A good soak in a bath perhaps? No. Sponsors would have us believe there is an irresistible urge, even if it’s a night game at Vodacom Park Bloem/Newlands etc, for these 100kg plus men to run to their kit bags and put a hat on.

Last year, his lips fat and bloodied from a collision with the shoulder of rampaging Waratahs winger Lote Taquiri in the Bulls/Waratahs Super 14 match, Victor Matfield stood under the Sydney night sky with a hat perched atop his 7–foot frame trying to lisp back stock answers to the commentator’s questions. Why wear a hat? Because sponsors (Vodacom being the main culprit) don’t seem to realise that we, the viewers, are already sated with their tickertape sponsorship shtick and they feel it imperative that captains parade the brand even more by wearing a hat after each match. Captains Jean de Villiers (Stormers) and Juan Smith (Cheetahs) are similar victims of Vodacom’s smothering sartorial interference, but the Lions (Auto and General) and the Sharks (Mr Price Red) suffer the same embarrassment.

There’s nothing remotely respectful, subtle or subliminal in the approach of South Africa’s sporting sponsors. Nevermind that their brands are dutifully chanted ad nauseum by presenters, slapped on stadia sideboards and stuck to the players’ jerseys — sponsors with Mariana Trench pockets just keep battering at viewers senses. Why? Because they can.

Sponsors, listen up. You win, OK? Really, the only thing to top the ignominy of defeat for a losing captain trying to catch his breath under the confines of a crap cap while fielding inane questions about ‘how he feels’, would be to whip down his shorts and reveal your name branded with a cattle iron on either cheek.

Speaking of which, there’s the case of Tongan rugby player Epi Taione who signed (and bombed) for the Sharks in this year’s Super 14. At last year’s World Cup, Taione changed his name by deed poll to Paddy Power for the duration of the tournament in response to the bookmaker’s sponsorship of the cash-strapped Tongan team. The humourless IRB managed to squash the gimmick, but at least it was funny and in the name of a good cause. Imagine the commentator’s screams of, “Paddy Power surges forward, passes the ball to Ladbrokes, he ducks under a tackle from John Deere, puts up a Garry Owen, Paddy Power goes up to contest, wins it and scores!” This contrasts sharply with the bludgeoning lack of tact and tasteless all-permeating nature of local advertising.

Admittedly, we are far off the sponsoring smorgasbord of American sports where even competitive eating, barista championships, dog training, bass fishing and lumberjack games garner huge prize money. But, as sponsorship in mainstream professional South African sport gradually gains momentum, in the war for brand awareness and ultimate supremacy, companies have upped the ante considerably. This overkill is evident on screen, on field and in studio.

Take for example your television screen reducing by two-thirds in the middle of a crucial rugby movement advertising something for Vodacom with ‘Are you in?’ The answer is no. I most certainly will never be ‘in’ with your company when I can’t see what’s happening on field because of it. Vodacom CEO Alan Knott-Craig may have a 20-foot plasma screen in a marble home theatre equipped with gilded Eames ottomans stuffed with condor breast feathers, but the majority of the populace (paying off hugely expensive call rates) do not. Depriving us of screen space does not result solely in brand awareness, but also generates brand resentment at what is at heart an attempt at sponsored submission and suffocation.

Head back to the studio for the usual riveting pre and post-match analysis and the torture continues. Catching the highlights is usually trying enough with the ex-Boks on Boots and All and All Out Rugby (proudly brought to you by Vodacom), offering up vacuous, nonsensical rhubarb on the weekend’s games. Try doing it when — in a serious Big Brother touch — a Vodacom rep is invited on to occasional shows and asked to comment on the games. As if supporters care.

Perhaps the most galling thing though is how the individuality and history of teams and stadiums fades away amidst the smog of brand conformity. On the Super 14 log and in almost every mention by the in-studio analysts, three out of the five local teams is preceded each time by a bloody ‘Vodacom’. A look at the Super 14 log will read Reds, Blues, Brumbies, Waratahs, Hurricanes, Sharks …in whatever order, but then as though afflicted by voracious team tumours the Stormers, Bulls and Cheetahs have grown ugly Vodacoms. Worse, the poor Lions are now saddled with the Auto and General spoiler. Somehow it doesn’t roll off the tongue. Of the South African teams, the Sharks are the only franchise allowed to carry their team’s brand alone.

It’s dumb, crass branding overkill, much like Indian computer company Sahara insisting on naming every one of South Africa’s historical cricket stadiums they get their computerised claws into, Sahara park this or that. The same goes for renaming Natal rugby’s King’s Park as Absa Stadium and changing Kimberley’s venue to Absa Park Kimberley. The most recent example is Ellis Park, SA’s most sacred stadium, selling its naming rights to Coca-Cola. Coca-Cola Park leaves me flat.

Even mud is not sacred. When players obsessed with highlighting their hair (usually from the backline ranks) such as Marius Joubert and the flying toilet brush, Phillip Burger, come off the pitch, their peroxide coiffures have been dipped in Vodacom Smurf Blue. No wonder they moved to France.

Usually, these sponsors are banks, airlines, computer and cellular providers — at heart the most grey, geeky, stodgy companies around and their moving into hallowed jockturf and rebranding revered teams and arena with company names that nobody will remember in 10 years time is not only sad, but rude. You don’t see the Poms relinquishing Twickenham to Tesco or the Scots flogging Murrayfield to the Highland’s biggest haggis dispensary, so why the hell can we not have some pride in our sporting history, our stadiums and our teams and tell sponsors that they are welcome on board as long as they don’t overpower the team in their empire-building enthusiasm.

Lastly, and perhaps most importantly, we have a duty to stop the nauseating residual effect such advertising has on the national character. Just when you thought we had moved on from the painfully repetitive pelvic timewarp thrusts of rugby supporter anthem ‘Heeeeyeey, baby, ooh, aah,’ Vodacom spawned a new generation of morons wiggling their hips to Leeuloop and the antics of that camp hoola-hoop swinging, breakdancing mongoose. Obviously, companies are entitled to choose how they create a brand image, so if in terms of taste a CGI rodent and a crapulous cretin singing about testicles are it, fine. But know this. With every round of the limited car, crotch, liquor and phones ad-loop (tyres, exhausts, erectile dysfunction drugs, Vodacom mongeese etc), you lose fans who don’t like the way you move.