Certain things mark the passage of time. Finding a gray streak of hair, watching a child learn to toddle, then walk, then run, a new bud sprouting on a plant. Add to that list baseball park advertisements.
As with many things in life, not even obnoxious ads plastered on every inch of a ballpark are spared from the telling signposts of Father Time. I recall my first trek to see the San Francisco Giants at the then-named Pacific Bell Park. Among the garlic fries and Hefeweizen were Webvan stickers on every cup holder and a blue Enron sign holding court next to the scoreboard. During a trip that summer to Fenway Park to see the Sox die a slow death near the Green Monster, I realized Boston's ads were all supermarkets, cars, milk and beer - the staples of American modern life. The contrast seemed to spell out the growing gap between the Bay Area and the rest of the nation's reality. We were dot-coms and hardware companies. They were comfort food and mechanics.
Fast-forward a few years. Pac Bell has given way to SBC Park and few of the signs inside have not withheld the test of time, either. The Webvan labels I once peeled during slow innings have transformed into stickers emblazoned with Diamond Nuts. Enron is now Safeway and Toyota fills a prominent neighboring position. Suddenly comfort food and mechanics don't seem so stodgy or old-fashioned.
The Old Navy Splash Hit marker is one of the few remaining old-timers among the park's inaugural ads. Gone are the signs (both literally and figuratively) of Internet folly and venture capital gluttony. Bring on the marketing staples that withstand the test of time and the short shelf life of the latest get-rich quick crazes. If the Giants' record was as reliable as some of these products' mass appeal, the team need never worry about turning off fans with the attitude of Barry Bonds, the stigma of BALCO steroids or even prohibitive $8 beverages.
All these musings lead me to one question for which I still cannot find an acceptable answer - why on earth did a Utah woman tattoo "goldenpalace.com" on her forehead for a measly $10,000? I'm not knocking the money (In fact, I accept all donations. Consider it advertising. See the address below.) but shouldn't she have placed her eBay bid a tad higher? A forehead is some premium real estate - sort of a mobile billboard - and should not be undersold. The seller said she wants the money to send her 11-year-old to a private school because he's been slipping. Obviously, private schools are cheaper in Utah than here. This woman will be able to guilt her son for the rest of his life; maybe that is worth the tattoo, too.
But what happens if Golden Palace ever folds? Sure, she already got the money but she's left advertising a site that no longer exists. The gambling site may seem flush now - how else could they toss money away on such advertising as forehead tattoos and gobbling up the infamous grilled cheese sandwich that holds an image of the Virgin Mary - but the future is a great marketing unknown. Today's Golden Palace is tomorrow's Webvan. At least if the women had opted for that there would be fewer letters to laser off when she comes to her senses.
Like the wobbling toddler and the ball park signs, a woman's face should show marks of age, too. Those signs, though, shouldn't be advertisements.
Michelle Durand's column "Off the Beat" runs every Monday and Thursday. She can be reached by e-mail: michelle@smdailyjournal.com or by phone: (650) 344-5200 ext. 104. What do you think of this column? Send a letter to the editor: letters@smdailyjournal.com.
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Keep the discussion civilized. Absolutely NO personal attacks or insults directed toward writers, nor others who make comments.
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PLEASE TURN OFF YOUR CAPS LOCK.
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