In the Stillers of the Night

I don't like schlocky attempts at humorous poetry, especially those forwarded through the Internet.

But, on the eve of my beloved Steelers (or Stillers as they are known in Pittsburgh) attempt to win an unprecedented sixth Super Bowl tomorrow evening, I will share this poem with anyone who is a fan.

If you grew up or lived in Pittsburgh for any amount of time, becoming a Steeler fan was a right of passage. The Steelers epitomize Pittsburgh, at least the Pittsburgh of my youth: hard-edged, genuine, determined. There was never anything flashy about Pittsburgh or the Steelers. And, as a Steeler fan, it was impossible to not be drawn into the magic of Myron Cope's uniquely Pittsburgh commentary as the color man during Steeler's broadcasts. Only a Pittsburgher could love Myron and his almost gross exaggeration of the unique Pittsburgh dialect.

Most people remember Myron for his creation of the now-ubiquitous Terrible Towels that serve as the official flag of The Steeler Nation. But I remember Myron for his passion and boyish enthusiasm that made listening to a Steeler game a weirdly exhilarating experience. You felt his joy during great wins and grieved along with him during the bitter disappointments. I can still hear Myron screaming in the background of the radio broadcast on the winter day in the early 70's when the Steelers beat the Oakland Raiders with what has since become knows as Franco Harris' "Immaculate Reception." Many may argue, but I believe that singular moment changed the fortunes of a city that was in the midst of its own economic collapse. People began to believe in miracles and, within time, Pittsburgh moved beyond its industrial roots to become a center of commerce and education. On some level, Myron was more than a broadcast color man for an NFL team. He was, in many ways, the voice and the spirit of a Renaissance.

I have lived in Cincinnati for more than 20 years. When I tell locals that I grew up in "the Burgh," they are quick to opine that the two cities are very similar and, thus, I must feel "right at home" in the Queen City. Indeed, they are both cities of majestic hills overlooking one of the country's great rivers. Both cities were carved out of the country's expansion as an industrial power. I have come to like Cincinnati, but have never felt "right at home" here, because, at heart, I will always be a Pittsburgher. I will always feel an affinity for its ethnic heritage and neighborhood spirit. I will always have The Steelers. And the memories of Myron taking me down the field on a last minute drive to Steeler glory.

This poem is about Myron and what he means to Pittsburghers.

If you know Myron, I hope it brings a smile to your face.

Go STILLERS!!

‘Twas the Night Before the Super Bowl
       ‘Twas the night before the Super Bowl, when along the gulf shore,
                Steelers fans were praying for “just one more;”
                The players were nestled all snug in the sack,
                    With visions of the first NFL Six-Pack;
                Coach Tomlin was young, but wise for his years,
                 So I drifted off to sleep without any fears;
             When at the stadium there arose some strange chatter,
                  The Cardinals feared, what was the matter;
                 We heard “Okel Dokel”, we heard “Double Yoi,”
              We jumped from our beds, our hearts jumped for joy;
                 He stood at the fifty with a grin ear to ear,
                  Steelers fans everywhere started to cheer;
                      Then in an instant to our surprise,
                  This little old man had tears in his eyes;
                He went to the booth and there took his chair,
                    While Terrible Towels waved in the air;
                 Then over the airwaves came his shrill voice,
                     The Steelers Nation began to rejoice;
                He said, “I am back, but you know I can’t stay,
                      I just had to see my Steelers play;
                  From my home up above, I have a great view,
                   But I wanted to celebrate here with you;
               So bring on the Birds, we’ll send them a flyin’,
               On the way back to Phoenix , they will be cryin’;
                 Ben, Hines, Troy , Jeff and all of the rest,
                No matter the outcome, to me you’re the best;”
                 The airwaves went silent, the stadium still,
                   Was this just a dream, it seemed so real;
             In our team we have faith, in our team we have hope,
                But the game’s not the same without Myron Cope

 

"Shout" Out to TMobile

If you haven't seen this video from Tmobile ...it's worth a look.

It got me thinking about the economic model for traditional TV advertising. This is essentially a 2 1/2 minute TV commercial. Think about this: production for an average TV spot runs for about $500K per :30, so you can do the math. If this video cost Tmobile more than $100K, I'd be shocked.

They posted it for FREE. Let's say you could buy 2 1/2 minutes of Primetime to run this spot. The cost would be between $500K and...well, who knows.For one airing! And you have no guarantee that it wouldn't be zapped or missed or simply ignored. As of this morning, 1.5 million people have made the decision to watch this video. I suspect this number will continue to grow as this video is good enough to forward to a friend and watch several times yourself.

If advertising is about creating an emotional link between brands and consumers, this video surely does the trick. It simply makes you feel good. And based on the comments, most of the 1.5 million people agree.

Is this the future of TV advertising?

I Tried to Buy American

I'm car shopping. I'm not sure anyone likes to shop for a car, but it's what we do.

I've been leasing cars and am tired of making perpetual car payments, so we've decided to suck it up and buy something so that we can see light at the end of the payment booklet tunnel.

I've been a VW guy for awhile, so I went back to the local VW dealership to check things out. I went because my wife suggested we go. I really intended to buy American; a Ford Focus, perhaps. The guy at the VW dealership could not have been nicer and more helpful. He had a great deal on a Passat. And, he is working out a deal to buy back the final seven months of the lease on our Beetle. We're getting 66 months at zero financing. For a really nice car.

But I was still intent on giving the Americans a shot at my business. I went to the massive Ford dealership near my house. I could not believe how many cars and trucks were sitting in that lot. One would think that the sales people would be instructed by managers to make a deal with anyone for any amount of money just to empty a small portion of the inventory. The guy who trudged out of the showroom to greet us probably didn't get that memo from his manager.

His indifference to our potential business was amazing. Instead of inviting us in to the warm showroom, he buttoned up his parka, flipped his hood up and led us out to the Focus Gulag to examine one uninteresting car after another. "So, these are at zero percent financing," I asked. As it turned out, the zero percent financing was only available if you added $500 to the purchase price. And, it was only available for 36 months.

I actually felt sad as I got into my car to leave. This guy, who I'm sure was nice enough, looked as if he had thrown in the towel. He had (hundreds) of average to below-average vehicles to sell and nothing to offer as a true incentive. I also felt angry that my tax dollars are going to prop up companies that simply cannot compete. I drove away from that Ford dealership realizing that the bailout is only delaying the inevitable.

So, I'm buying a German-made car. It's built better. It has better re-sale value. And the pricing was more attractive. I tried to do the patriotic thing and support our industry. But it's clear that they've given up the good fight. And what the government doesn't see is that propping them up is, in many ways, as unpatriotic as letting them succumb to the realties of the marketplace.

Interesting times.

Are You a Twirgin?

I love to listen to people talk about Twitter.  There are three camps:

1) Twitter has changed my life and is the best thing I've ever experienced.

2) Twitter is stupid, brainless and a complete waste of my valuable time.

3) I'm curious about Twitter, but haven't gotten up the courage to try it.

Relatively speaking, I probably fall into the third camp, the group I call Twirgins.  

I have been Twittering for a month or so.  I update occasionally.  Maybe once a day.  I typically update if I find an article that is interesting and I want to share it.  This is probably where I find the most value out of Twitter:  having people I follow uncover interesting pieces of information that would otherwise sneak by me.  I heard someone refer to Twitter as "my personal A.P."  I agree with that definition.

The problem with being a Twirgin is that I occasionally slip into the second category above after reading a stream of chatter about what people are doing at that moment.  This is the self indulgent aspect of Twitter that I haven't been able to understand.  Why should I be interested in what you're having for dinner that night?  

I like Twitter and continue to find different ways to use it.  I found an interesting video when I Googled "Why I use Twitter."  

R.U. a Twirgin??

http://tinyurl.com/6c4vcs

A Bite Of Inaugural Reality

I was in Columbus Tuesday for a day-long meeting.  As I'm sure many Americans did on that day, we stopped what we were doing in time to watch Barrack Obama take the oath of office as the 44th President of the United States.  It was a stirring moment and one that I will not forget.

My associates and I then headed to a local brew pub for lunch.  Had you walked into the bar without any knowledge of what was happening that day, you would have surely thought that the patrons were watching a major sporting event, the Super Bowl, perhaps.  The bar area was packed, every table full.  The crowd was mostly African American.  There were glasses of wine and a few flutes of champagne on some tables.  These people had come to celebrate an event that I am sure many, if not most, believed would never happen in their lifetimes.  They cheered each passage of the President's speech as if they were watching their Buckeyes make a last minute drive against Michigan.  It was a stirring moment and one that I will not forget.

We finished our lunch and left the restaurant into a bitter cold afternoon for the short walk back to the office.  The middle-aged African American woman who was just outside the restaurant door did not notice us.  She was busy rummaging through the green trash can for her lunch.  Coming up empty, she quietly moved on to the next green trash can; a pattern that most likely continued throughout the afternoon.

I suspect that nobody told her about the inauguration of Barrack Obama; she probably didn't catch CNN that morning.  I'm sure that any celebrating she would do on that momentous day would be prompted by the discovery of a half-eaten sandwich or a Starbuck's cup with the last drops of a double-shot, skim Latte. She probably wasn't too concerned about bail-outs or the Dow, the state of her IRA or the latest unemployment estimates.  She probably wasn't swelling with pride that an African American was now the leader of the free world.  She likely didn't get the memo telling her that "yes we can" change.  And I suspect that she doesn't have the "audacity to hope."  She was just cold and hungry on that incredibly historic day.

It was a stirring moment and one that I will not forget.

There Is No Honeymoon

OK, I too was awash in emotion on the November evening when the United States chose to have a man of color as the next President.  It was a compelling moment.  I voted for Mr. Obama on the basis that I believed he could restore dignity to America's tarnished reputation abroad. I made my decision only in the final days of the campaign, primarily because my hope for what Obama could do internationally was offset by my fear of what he might unleash domestically.

Tom Friedman wrote an excellent Op-Ed piece in yesterday's NY Times suggesting that Obama call together the top 300 bank CEOs for an emergency meeting on his first working day in the office.  In this meeting, each CEO would be given an ultimatum:  come back with a plan to clean up the mess you've made or your bank will be nationalized and folded into another bank.  I would be encouraged if Mr. Obama made such a bold gesture right out of the blocks.

I am concerned, however, that instead of such a gesture, the new President is going to begin writing even more blank checks without any accountability measures attached.  This would surely be an act of dysfunction that would prove disastrous in the long run.

President-elect Obama:  be bold on your first day in office!  Be strong and call these bankers on the carpet for their actions.  Good luck.

Spam-alot

Some dolt in the marketing department of AT&T came up with a brilliant idea during a recent brainstorming session:  "Let's spam-text 70 million of of our most loyal users with an invitation to tune into the season premiere of American Idol."

AT&T is the official cell phone sponsor of Idol and only its users can participate in the voting.  

Unfortunately, because of the "no idea is a bad idea" mantra of corporate brainstorming sessions, nobody stopped to consider the implications of spamming current customers.  

The Twitter-led uproar over AT&T's incredible indiscretion has been overwhelming.  AT&T users are pissed that the company would violate their privacy with a blatant and schlocky marketing come-on.  And they are right to feel this way.  A spokesperson for AT&T said that they were simply sending a "friendly reminder" to tune into to Idol.  Well pal, thanks, but that isn't AT&T's job!  Considering that only a fraction of your users participate in the Idol text voting, that means most of your loyal users don't give a crap about the show.  

Earlier last year, I submitted a request to Verizon for ring-tone options.  Instead of simply sending me the requested information, I have been added to a spam list that results in numerous un-wanted text messages each week.  And I can't figure out how to remove my number from the list.  You can bet that this endears me to Verizon!

When will companies realize that arrogance is not a great "go to market" strategy in today's instant communication world?

"...got nothin' to lose."

I've always loved Bob Dylan's line: "If you ain't got nothin,' you ain't got nothin' to lose."

As we turned to corner to 2009, there was a collective sigh of relief from those claiming that 2008 was (pick one):

• A meltdown of epic proportions
• A financial disaster
• One of the worst years since the Great Depression
• Financial Armaggedon

With 24-hour news constantly rattling our collective, psychic cages, it is easy to forget that 2008, like every year, had crappy moments. I worked for a company that lost it's largest account and had to let a quarter of the staff go. It was terrible and painful. But the next day, we began the healing process anew and started to re-build. Most, if not all, of our friends who left have since moved on to new opportunities. Those that remained continued to do great work and celebrated their own victories over the course of the year. Crappy moments do not define an entire year.

I have always believed that January 1 does not wash the slate clean. It is just another day, as is January 5th, the day I write this post. Barrack Obama offers hope, but not ultimate solutions. We will experience victories and defeats this year...as we do every year. I am grateful today to be employed and to work beside people for whom I have tremendous respect. I am healthy today as is my family. I live in a country today that, within its borders, continues to enjoy peace and security. It isn't all perfect, but today it is good.

Yes, my portfolio today is thinner. But I am not my portfolio (although I wouldn't mind losing a few extra pounds). I get to wake up every morning and have hope (Obama or no Obama). Americans forget that much of the world is simply trying to meet basic needs while we despair over the relatively small dents put into the excess that we consider our entitlement. Perhaps we should be grateful that we have something to lose?

This morning alone, I have come across the words "dire," "bleak" and "dismal" in articles or blogs heralding the "new year." Here is my prediction: 2009 will be exactly like 2008! It will be comprised of 365 days that are 24 hours long. Each day will bring successes and failures, joys and dissapointments. Jobs will be lost and new journeys begun. Financial portfolios will expand and contract. Companies will die and new enterprises will be born.

Let's not become paralyzed by the headlines. Instead, let's be buoyed by the knowledge that every morning we get to wake up and begin another wild ride that will be crazy, frightful, exhilirating and never predictable.

Here is my wish for a healthy, happy and prosperous... January 5th, 2009!