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Free Agency Leaves Franchises’ Public Relations In Disarray
(Originally Printed in Sports Business Journal)
“Baseball is the most unchanging thing in our society – an island of stability in
an unstable world, an island of sanity in an insane world.” Former Chicago White
Sox owner Bill Veeck’s comments, quite applicable in 1981, represented the notion
that baseball not only was excused from congressional scrutiny via anti-trust
exemption, but also was shielded by the insidious erosion of ethics in Corporate
America.
Now, seemingly all evidence now points to the contrary. What a difference a
score makes!
Ask fans who revered their teams throughout the 1980s (and certainly even
earlier) what made Major League Baseball so special. The commonly articulated
response: “I could come to the ballpark on any given day and feel assured that the
same nine guys would take the field.” Indeed, baseball had cultivated an elusive
ingredient of staunchness and permanency.
The most profound change in MLB is arguably the derivative of labor
negotiations. Consider the residual effects of free agency simply as it pertains to a
franchise’s public relations. Perhaps, the novelty of bringing in new faces can
enhance a club’s publicity. However, the inexorable decline of fans’ allegiance
leaves an impression that consumers favor substance over camouflage.
In business terms, there is no substitute for brand equity.
Free agency, which has also contributed to impulsive trades, clearly detracts
from a franchise’s cadence and continuity. Higher turnover leads to greater
skepticism. As players rotate faster than Yogi Berra and Billy Martin invariably did
as managers for George Steinbrenner, baseball fans have received more reasons to
disparage the anarchy on the field.
Analysts may attempt to ascertain the internal mechanism driving most
franchises to the brink of pandemonium. It is a fruitless quest. The problem stems
from a lack of such an organic engine – proactive public relations – within the
organization. In the absence of genuine public approval, companies will typically
resort to reactive decision-making.
Few franchises even attempt to quantify the potential shortfall of revenue from
losing popular ballplayers. Relinquishing fan favorites who perform well is an
opportunity cost, while disposing those who perform poorly is a sunk cost. In both
cases, many club executives respond to this condition with damage control, rather
than damage prevention. If team presidents, who exercise final approval of most
transactions, discuss with their general managers the long-term effects of moving
human capital on a case-by-case basis, then perhaps the media and fans would be
less cynical when recalling executives’ erratic decisions.
The bottom line is that owners will continue to compete for players at market
value. The game and business of baseball, much like any corporate industry, is
composed of winners and losers. MLB, by emulating Corporate America, has neither
failed nor succeeded in its preparations for the 21st century. More noticeably, the
invincible league has assured its constituency that baseball will not rest passively
on that island of sanity. Whether its Microsoft Corp. or General Electric Co., chief
officers recognize that their colleagues should be hungrier than their consumers in
order to be profitable. Is insanity knocking on the Park Avenue doorstep of Major
League Baseball?
Proactive public relations may not be enough to remedy this predicament.
Franchises inevitably allow free agency to dictate instability over consistency in
order to win. Some baseball executives equate winning, on and off the field, with
paying big salaries for big talent. But even Bill Veeck admitted, “Sometimes the
best deals are the ones you don’t make.”
Michael Wissot is a leading market research and communication strategist in
Southern California. He serves as a focus group moderator to many Fortune 500
companies and top public officials. He can be reached at SymAction.com.
Free Agency Leaves Franchises’ Public Relations In Disarray
(Originally Printed in Sports Business Journal)
“Baseball is the most unchanging thing in our society – an island of stability in
an unstable world, an island of sanity in an insane world.” Former Chicago White
Sox owner Bill Veeck’s comments, quite applicable in 1981, represented the notion
that baseball not only was excused from congressional scrutiny via anti-trust
exemption, but also was shielded by the insidious erosion of ethics in Corporate
America.
Now, seemingly all evidence now points to the contrary. What a difference a
score makes!
Ask fans who revered their teams throughout the 1980s (and certainly even
earlier) what made Major League Baseball so special. The commonly articulated
response: “I could come to the ballpark on any given day and feel assured that the
same nine guys would take the field.” Indeed, baseball had cultivated an elusive
ingredient of staunchness and permanency.
The most profound change in MLB is arguably the derivative of labor
negotiations. Consider the residual effects of free agency simply as it pertains to a
franchise’s public relations. Perhaps, the novelty of bringing in new faces can
enhance a club’s publicity. However, the inexorable decline of fans’ allegiance
leaves an impression that consumers favor substance over camouflage.
In business terms, there is no substitute for brand equity.
Free agency, which has also contributed to impulsive trades, clearly detracts
from a franchise’s cadence and continuity. Higher turnover leads to greater
skepticism. As players rotate faster than Yogi Berra and Billy Martin invariably did
as managers for George Steinbrenner, baseball fans have received more reasons to
disparage the anarchy on the field.
Analysts may attempt to ascertain the internal mechanism driving most
franchises to the brink of pandemonium. It is a fruitless quest. The problem stems
from a lack of such an organic engine – proactive public relations – within the
organization. In the absence of genuine public approval, companies will typically
resort to reactive decision-making.
Few franchises even attempt to quantify the potential shortfall of revenue from
losing popular ballplayers. Relinquishing fan favorites who perform well is an
opportunity cost, while disposing those who perform poorly is a sunk cost. In both
cases, many club executives respond to this condition with damage control, rather
than damage prevention. If team presidents, who exercise final approval of most
transactions, discuss with their general managers the long-term effects of moving
human capital on a case-by-case basis, then perhaps the media and fans would be
less cynical when recalling executives’ erratic decisions.
The bottom line is that owners will continue to compete for players at market
value. The game and business of baseball, much like any corporate industry, is
composed of winners and losers. MLB, by emulating Corporate America, has neither
failed nor succeeded in its preparations for the 21st century. More noticeably, the
invincible league has assured its constituency that baseball will not rest passively
on that island of sanity. Whether its Microsoft Corp. or General Electric Co., chief
officers recognize that their colleagues should be hungrier than their consumers in
order to be profitable. Is insanity knocking on the Park Avenue doorstep of Major
League Baseball?
Proactive public relations may not be enough to remedy this predicament.
Franchises inevitably allow free agency to dictate instability over consistency in
order to win. Some baseball executives equate winning, on and off the field, with
paying big salaries for big talent. But even Bill Veeck admitted, “Sometimes the
best deals are the ones you don’t make.”
Michael Wissot is a leading market research and communication strategist in
Southern California. He serves as a focus group moderator to many Fortune 500
companies and top public officials. He can be reached at SymAction.com.