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For the first 10 years of their life, the "Devil Rays" (as they were once infamously known) were the laughingstock of baseball, and arguably all of the sports world. They had Wade Boggs and what is considered his greatest moment, his 3,000th hit, though he would have had that anywhere; it was just happenstance he was wearing black, purple, and green and playing in a perpetually-maligned dome. They had the "Hit Show" - Jose Conseco, Fred McGriff, Vinny Castilla, and Greg Vaughn - which, needless to say, didn't live up to their hype. They never had an out-of-last-place season - let alone a winning season - save for one season, 2004, when they finished 4th in the AL East. They had homegrown stars - Josh Hamilton, Joe Kennedy, Aubrey Huff, Randy Winn - that went on to have much better careers after leaving their first home. They had an owner who not only refused to open his wallet, but also refused to allow cheering, screaming, and any type of loud noises anywhere in "his" stadium; anyone caught breaking this "rule" would be asked politely to quiet down, then on the next attempt to hush the "rabble-rouser" they would be evicted.
Yet, with all that documented extensively, I made a seemingly irrational decision one day in September 2007: I became a shareholder in the team of endless misery. Apparently, I am - myself - a glutton for punishment. After I signed the paperwork and handed over the check, the first thing I said to myself: "What the hell did I just do...?"
I grew up in Pedricktown, New Jersey. I'm sure - unless you live in Salem or Gloucester counties - you've never heard of it. It is, however, the most-rural suburb of Philadelphia, and as a member of the Delaware Valley, your sports allegiances are already dictated to you in the delivery room: Sixers, Flyers, Eagles, and Phillies are your only choices, so choose wisely or face the possibility of adoption. You're forgiven if you choose not to like any of the aforementioned teams, so long as you don't like any other team in their respective sports league. Some people believe in a bastardized version of the Amish's Rumspringa, where when you are old enough to think for yourself (usually anywhere between 9-13 years old), you can choose a different team in any and/or all sports. However, once you choose, you are bound to follow them ad infinitum. This explains how, in an area that is very staunchly against any team in any sport's division rivals, you will find some "brave" Cowboys, Devils, Braves, and Knicks fans.
I stayed true and exclusive to my "birth-rite" teams (though I never really followed the NBA to any great extent, so my indifference toward the Sixers is forgiven by most) until about 2006 - 3 years after I moved to St. Pete. Up until that time, I refused to set foot in the "Dumb Dome" and my baseball fix was obtained in the short month of March on the open, grassy surface of Bright House Field in Clearwater or the occasional Phillies game on Fox and Sun Sports (when they played the Marlins).
I got my hockey fix going to the two games per year the Flyers played at the St. Pete Times Forum and would only go to other games if I got free tickets from work, convinced friends (like Kevin and "Rabid Nick") I knew would like them to come with me, and I'd get to cheer against the Bolts (be it the Maple Leafs or the Mighty Ducks); the only exception to the "cheer against the Bolts" was when they played the Atlantic Division teams...for obviously-selfish reasons.
My football fix would come with going to the local Eagles bar, The Bull Horn on USF's campus, every week with my friend from work, Immani, that I found, too, likes the Birds. Even if it was "all-the-way" in Tampa, I was there for almost every game - unless it was shown on local Fox, CBS, or ABC TV so I could watch with my mom. You could always catch me there with my Irving Fryar, then David Akers Super Bowl, jersey, chanting "Fly, Eagles, Fly!" with the rest of them.
Never in a million years would I root against any of them, as they were my teams, my link to the snow-covered region I left back on that cold day of March 16, 2003.
Then I visited Al Lang Field.
In 2007, my then-roommate Becky suggested, instead of going to Clearwater in March, I should check-out the ballpark by the Bay in Downtown St. Pete. I just started my new job down the street the May prior, so I could park at work and walk over, making it even more convenient. Sure it may not be as new and shiny as Bright House Field, but Progress Energy Park (as Al Lang Field is now called) had the old Florida charm all the other spring training stadiums combined couldn't even muster, she said.
So, I took her up on her suggestion. We went to the first meeting of the Devil Rays and the Phillies that year at Al Lang, and what I was saw on the field impressed me and gave me hope for the future of the team. I knew this team wasn't far off from finally, after years of mediocrity, being a contender. I was watching history in the making, and I loved everything I saw.
And I wasn't talking about the Phillies.
The Devil Rays played a style of baseball I hadn't seen on Broad Street since I was young. They had guys like Carl Crawford and Delmon Young that were aggressive on the bases, they had guys like Carlos Peña and Akinori Iwamura that could hit the side of the Mahaffey Theater in Al Lang's outfield if they tried, and they had starting pitching out of Scott Kazmir and James Shields that made opposing batters cringe. Their bullpen, with people like Chad Orvella and Jae Kuk Ryu however, was anemic - to put it mildly - and made high-quality pitchers like Grant Balfour and J.P. Howell look just as bad. Once that was fixed, I knew they were going to be not just good, but very good. They showed up the Phillies that day, and as we walked back to my work parking lot, I told Becky, "Sure, I'll go to more games down here with you."
With the highly-publicized entrance of a new manager and ownership (the "Under Construction" campaign was extremely visible the entire 2005 season), they turned Tropicana Field from the "Dumb Dome" to "The Trop". Gone was the empty space on the walls that made it feel like the inside of an oil container or warehouse, and the redesign made it feel more like what a baseball field should feel like: large, easy-to-see stats boards and scoreboards, advertisements that felt more like those at Yankee Stadium, and what was once the largest-HDTV in baseball. On- and off-the-field, it felt like baseball finally arrived at the Trop...9 years late.
Despite Peña setting the team record for most HRs in a season (as well as leading the AL) and winning the AL's Comeback Player of the Year Award, Kazmir having the most strikeouts in the AL (and most in 162 games for all of baseball; Jake Peavy needed 163 days to beat him when San Diego played Arizona in a tie-breaker game), and Delmon Young being 2nd in voting for AL Rookie of the Year, the team still finished poorly: 66-96, worst in the majors, thanks in large part to the bullpen's over 6.00 ERA, worst in the majors in over 50 years. But the stage was set for greatness, and after going to over 20 regular season games through the course of the season - even when they took their tailspin in late June into August - I decided to invest in their future.
I became a season-ticket holder of the Tampa Bay Devil Rays.
"Sure hope you know what you're doing...." my conscience and checkbook both said. I'm sure glad I did, though, for - as everyone knows by now - the newly-christened "Tampa Bay Rays" kept winning and kept winning, making the playoffs for the first time in their history (not to mention it was their first-ever winning season), then continued to surprise as they went to the World Series in 2008 against (holy shit!) my Phillies. For the record, I wore my Devil Rays jersey - I got it on super-clearance at the end of the 2007 season for $50 (normally $200) - with my Rays hat only because my friend, Brad, was in town from Philly, so I had to balance out his Philly love. However, for Game 2, I wore my Phillies shirt with Rays hat. I didn't care whom won, as my "impossible dream" scenario came true.
I'm still a season-ticket holder of the Rays to this day. Even as the prices kept going up - and my pay at work went down - I cut corners to make it work, as I'm not about to give up my tickets; I love my Rays too much. I still love my Phillies and always will, but let's be honest: what do the Phillies do for my community? They don't help with youth sports funding in Tampa. They don't visit schools in New Port Richey to help add to the reading programs. They don't contribute $100 million to the economy of St. Petersburg every year. The closest they come to me in normal years during the season is Miami.
The Rays do all that, and more, for my new home. In that area, they are even greater than the 2008 World Series champions, and it took me a trip to Al Lang Field to finally admit that to myself.
The Lightning, on a smaller scale, contribute in the same aspects, but I don't carry a torch for them nearly as much as I do for the Rays; I don't however, boo them when I go anymore, and only cheer against them when Philly's in town. I can safely say I'm still a Flyers fan first, but I enjoy getting my hockey fix at the Forum on days that the "Orange Crush" doesn't take over the stands. So, in that aspect, I guess it makes me a Lightning fan, but don't expect me to choose between the two: it's not a choice - Broad Street Bullies all-the-way!
I can't say the same if I had to choose between the Rays and Phillies, nor should I have to. They never play each other except in spring training, occasional interleague games, and the World Series. They have (for the most-part, if I'm any indication) completely separate fan bases that work differently, but are just as passionate as each other. But most importantly, they hold different places in my heart: the Phillies represent my past and all the great things I miss about it, while the Rays represent my present and all the even greater things and people I know now (and good friends I go to games with on a regular basis, like "McLovin" and James). So, that being said, I guess I'd have to say if I had to choose, sorry Uncle Cholly, but Merlot Joe and his team of superheroes are my number ones.
Sure, they may play in a nationally-loathed but locally-loved dome with catwalks people refuse to understand in front of crowds deemed "unacceptable" by suits in a faraway city that has a fan base with a 40+ year headstart to grow to today's sizes with a media that laments their eventual removal from the area, but the people who preach to me and other converted fans that those aspects should be cause enough not to even like them just don't get it. You can't have it both ways: "you can't forsake your birth-rite" but "they don't deserve a team since they can't support them." For a team that's oldest "birth-rite" fan is only 13 years old today, it's impossible to sustain a team with only kids under 13 in the stands. So, I'm doing my part and supporting my team, and damn anyone who tries to pull that "birth-rite" crap on me. Face it, reality dictates you cannot have it both ways, so the sooner you realize that, the sooner I can possibly convert you too, if only for a day. As with me, a day is possibly all you need to change your thinking forever.
I still have never been to Raymond James Stadium and have no intention of going anytime soon, in case you're wondering.
So, I’ve had a terrible case of “writer’s block”, which is why I haven’t posted on this blog since my observation on the Supreme Court of Public Opinion case #2009-0618, People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals, musca domestica, et. al. vs. Barack H. Obama, President of the United States. Sometimes, however, life has a funny way of dropping something so pertinent to you right on your lap you’d be insane not to approach it. Thus, let me finish this paragraph by stating this: Kevin, I know you and I strongly recommend you look away from the rest of this blog now – you know what’s coming.
Tropicana Field: loathe it or love it, it is the home of the Tampa Bay Rays; has hosted, among others in its 19-year history, the following large-scale events: the largest one-night indoor concert in Florida, NCAA Men’s Final Four, the Davis Cup, the NHL Playoffs, ArenaBowl IX, and – oh yeah – the World Series; and, contrary to popular opinion, is centrally located near the population center of the Bay Area. So, why is it people can pack the Trop when it’s a “gala event” (like the playoffs, the World Series, or the raising of the banners), but when – God-forbid – you need to actually watch the game and not just sit in a seat and take pictures to say, “Look where I was!” the sea of blue you see on TV is not people, but empty seats? What possesses the people of Florida – not just Tampa Bay, as the same phenomenon is occurring in both Miami and Jacksonville – to be apathetic toward something so community-driven that other cities would kill to have?
Let’s first take a look at some of the excuses and see if they can’t be debunked. The biggest excuse that people – mainly from Tampa and to the northeast – have is the time and distance. As a St. Pete resident of 6 years, I can safely say that argument is a load of crap. The worst direction to travel during either rush hour is toward Tampa. The bridges feed into Tampa’s overworked, outdated road system that can’t handle normal everyday traffic. Add the 5-10,000 extra vehicles that will appear on the Howard Frankland, Gandy, or Courtney Campbell bridges during that rush – in which most games are played, and no one would make it leaving at 5:30pm from Pinellas to the stadium, irregardless of the placement in the city, by opening pitch without pushing start times past 7:30pm; it will be near impossible to have Bob DuPry’s office to sign off on that. So, until TBARTA gets going, no place in the area will be convenient enough for everyone.
Speaking of TBARTA, the next issue is its location in general. Having been built in downtown St. Pete, which most consider “isolated” from the area since it’s on a peninsula, makes it that much more impossible to break that impervious across Tampa Bay known as the Hillsborough/Pinellas county line. However, a new study the ABC Coalition published today in the St. Petersburg Times shows 5 different locations and the population within 30 miles of each. Downtown St. Pete has the least, but at 2,245,129, it is within 100,000 of the “top spot”, Downtown Tampa. Also, with TBARTA planning to build a transportation hub right near the Trop location that will make it easily accessible by rail from Clearwater, Tampa, Brandon, Plant City, Wesley Chapel, and possibly New Port Richey, and express busses from northern Pinellas, Bradenton, Sarasota, Brooksville, Crystal River, Lakeland, and all points in between, Downtown St. Pete just became that much more attractive. Granted, it’ll take 5 years – if started today – for the first signs of TBARTA’s impact, but seeing as it takes 3-4 years to build a stadium when you don’t have a billion dollars to throw around like the Yankees and Mets, you need to consider those transportation nodes in the final decision of stadium location.
While we’re talking bottomless bank rolls, let’s talk another favorite topic: dollars and “sense”. Everyone said the original deal to put it on the waterfront for $450 million was “too expensive.” However, those same people arguing it will cost too much also want a $471 million rehab of Tropicana Field. To that I quote Carlos Mencia: “DEE-Dee-dee!!!” Thanks for “protecting our wallets” on that one, POWW. So, according to citizens of Tampa, it either needs to be in Tampa, since it’s the “population center” (which it’s geographically not; including Bradenton and Sarasota, that distinction belongs about 83rd Ave N and 4th St N in St. Pete), or at the very north end of St. Pete so people from Tampa “don’t need to drive as far.” However, there’s no city- or county-owned land up in the Gateway area, as that area of St. Pete is known, that doesn’t require mitigation; same goes with Tampa. So, if Tampa or Gateway are the “prime spots,” why would we up the price of the stadium by up to $150 million in land acquisition and/or landfill mitigation costs just to kowtow to the demands of an extra 100,000? I don’t know about you, but an investment of up to $1.5 million per person for people who may never go to a game seems like wasted money.
Another issue is the play on the field. “Why should I support a team that is barely over .500?” I’ll give you one major reason why: we went to the World Series last year. How’s that for a “what have you done for me lately” retort? They have a winning record! They’re playing surprisingly well in spite of major injuries that took out, for some length of time, the following people (in no particular order): Chad Bradford, Scott Kazmir, Troy Percival, Jason Isringhausen, Jason Bartlett, Aki Iwamura, Evan Longoria, and Pat Burrell (I’m sure I forgot some along the way, too). That’s almost a whole freakin’ team on the DL! Yet they’re three games over .500 – something that would have seemed like a Godsend 2 years ago – and are still within reach of the AL East crown. Granted, in every other division, 38-35 would be good enough for at least 3rd (2nd in the AL Central and NL East), but this isn’t every other division, and I think that’s why the fans are very fickle. However, it’s not excuse. Here’s a list of teams with worse records than us (as of Wednesday) that have better attendance averages (in order of attendance, records and place in division in parentheses): Cubs (34-34, 3rd), Mets (36-34, 2nd), Astros (32-37, 5th), Rockies (37-35, 3rd), Mariners (36-35, 3rd), Twins (36-37, 2nd), D-Backs (30-42, 5th), Braves (34-37, 4th), White Sox (34-37, 3rd), Padres (31-39, 4th), Reds (34-36, 3rd), and Royals (31-39, 4th). In fact, we are one of only two teams that have winning records that are in the bottom 20 – the other being the Marlins (37-36, 3rd) at 29th. See? It’s not just Tampa Bay with the attendance issues.
And that brings me to the bigger issue: are we, as Phloridians (again, my blog, my spelling rules), apathetic to sports in general? The only team that has had no attendance issues anywhere in Phlorida was the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, but that’s about to change with the loss of most of the season ticket holders due to the economy. So what is the root cause of it? What would create such an indifference to teams and franchises that areas like San Antonio, Portland, Hampton Roads, and especially Las Vegas are pushing hard to secure? Do we just, like the sun, sand, and surf, take them for granted that they’ll always be here? Or is it more of an inherent issue? I can honestly see the problem with hockey as a whole in the Sunshine State, as there is no history or pedigree throughout history here (one Stanley Cup doesn’t erase 70 years of isolation from the sport). However, football should be huge here, and it is: at the college level. The pro teams are struggling to fill seats; the Jags are on the verge of moving to Toronto (!) if revenue doesn’t pick back up, and with no naming rights to Jacksonville Municipal Stadium, I don’t foresee that happening in the near-term. The Dolphins are struggling in a tough division and can’t get enough people in the seats to expand the payroll and get better players. The Bucs’ waiting list evaporated almost overnight, and now they’re soliciting me to get a ticket package (just because I’m a Rays’ holder doesn’t mean I would support the team that embarrassed the Eagles in Philly twice in one year’s time). Baseball also has a long, storied history here, but mainly through Spring Training. But the excitement of March seems to quickly wear off as the attention spans of the natives get bored and move to the next big thing.
From this writer’s perspective, it seems like the main issue is Phlorida’s ingrained obsession with vanity. They do what they can, however they can, to be noticed. Look at South Beach as a prime example. In and of itself, it’s nothing more than a very nice beach town found at any oceanfront state (the Hamptons in New York, Avalon in New Jersey, Nags Head in North Carolina, Myrtle Beach in South Carolina, amongst many others). However, the rich and famous hang out there, songs like “Miami” by Will Smith celebrate it, and TV shows like “Burn Notice” make it a living, breathing character along side the cast. That’s why people feel the need to go to South Beach; not because the sand is made of gold or it houses the Fountain of Youth, but because they can be seen. Clearwater Beach has just as nice – if not better – beaches, and there’s just as much money in those condos as the condos on the other side of the state, but it’s not as glorified. Why? Because no one will see you there except for that tourist from Montreal. That’s why the Rays can sell out the playoffs, but can’t get rid of tickets for a World Series rematch. That’s why the Lightning set attendance records at the Thunderdome (now known as Tropicana Field) during the playoffs, but can’t get more than 7,000 people to attend an average game at the Forum (neé Ice Palace). That’s why the Jaguars haven’t sold out a game in almost a year, and the Magic, on their historic playoff run, couldn’t get a full house until the Finals. Unless people will notice you, Phloridians just can’t waste their time with trivialities like sports. But then, this argument doesn’t hold much water when, in California, the geographical center of vanity, the Dodgers and Lakers sell out games constantly, does it?
So, what is it? Why are sports as a whole, not just the Rays and their red-headed adopted son known as the Trop, neglected in this state? Why can a meaningless Spring Training series between the Rays and the Phillies in Philadelphia sell out (about 90K people over two games), but the same series in St. Pete with both teams fighting for position in their respective division can’t draw more than 60K people for three? What makes people spend more time in a bikini or swim trunks getting the early stages of melanoma instead of spending money on organizations that provide money and supplies to both youth and adult non-profit organizations alike? Why do we, as a state, demand new facilities and/or locations for these teams, only to shun them the same way we did before with the same tired excuses, just amended to fit the new situation?
As someone who loves sports, I can’t understand it. All I can understand is no matter where the Rays new stadium is built, be it Tampa, Downtown St. Pete, or an island in the middle of Tampa Bay with off ramps right off the Howard Frankland and hydrofoils from locations every 2 miles along the bay’s shoreline for those who don’t want to drive, some group will complain about the distance, the money, the team’s performance; you know, the same excuses that have been used for years. And that’s just how Phlorida is; nothing changes, no matter how many people you try to cater to.
No, this post is not about baseball (which, the Rays are in Denver tonight @ 8:40, and the Phils are hosting Canada's Last Hope @ 7:05, so watch them!), nor is it about the latest news regarding Tropicana Field's fate (which won't be mentioned at all on this blog until something substantial comes along, I promise); it's about Tropicana orange juice - that stalwart of breakfast tables across America - and advertising ideas gone horribly wrong. I know, an introspective on bad ideas not performed by myself is a departure for me too, but there's a first time for everything, right?
Today's Tropicana Products, a subsidiary of PepsiCo, started back in 1947, when Anthony Rossi moved from New York to Palmetto - just south of St. Pete on the other side of Tampa Bay - and started Manatee River Packing Company, a packing plant for fruit box gifts and fruits destined to be thrown on salads. Then, in 1952, he bought an old cannery in Bradenton, which is now the home of the Tropicana processing plant. The familiar "Tropicana" name game from their premium juice they provided, and the company took that name as their own in 1957. Pepsi bought them in 1998, and the rest is history.
For many years, they've had one of the most recognizable logos in advertising history: the fresh-picked orange, dew still dripping off of it, with a straw in it. It's meant to symbolize the freshness of the juice, as it really does taste fresh-squeezed. I, amongst millions of people daily, enjoy a cold glass of OJ in the morning (pulp-free, please!), and have grown to love that little orange being massacred with a plastic drinking utensil. Thanks for taking one for the team, little guy!
However, at the beginning of the year, PepsiCo committed its own "New Coke"-sized faux pas, changing that beloved death-by-straw orange into this:
Classy? I guess. Bland? Completely. Enticing? Meh, not really. It's just a glass of orange juice, nothing special or fancy. Now, if it came with its own champagne or vodka, I'd be more likely to buy it, but since mimosas and screwdrivers in the morning right before work could be hazardous both to your driving and career longevity, that's probably not the image you want to go for. And apparently Pepsi realize they messed up, too, because it was changed quickly thereafter back to the lovable, drinkable orange.
So, that brings me to the reason for this blog post: marketing failures. And this is where I ask for audience participation. Other than the "New Coke" fiasco, what big advertising "miscalculations" stick out in your mind? I'm curious to see what others consider an Epic Fail.
Alright, I'm outta here. Don't forget, the Phils are on CSN at 7:05 and the Rays are on Sun Sports at 8:40. Oh, and if you're out in Denver, don't forget to don your Rays gear and head out to Johnny’s New York Pizza & Pasta Shop in Lakewood tomorrow to get your free meal, since the Rays still made it to the World Series. See? The Rays may not have won, but they're still honored across the country for being bad-ass last year!
