"In order to show proper respect for your future,
you must sometimes show some insensitivity to your past”. Such were the words
and rationale of Roberto Goizueta, the former CEO of The Coca Cola Company, who
27 years ago changed the formula of the world’s most popular soft drink and launched
a new product, imaginatively named New Coke. At the time Goizueta and his team
were faced with a dilemma: the Pepsi challenge was in full flow and consumers
seemed receptive to the idea of switching from Coke to its sweeter, blue
packaged alternative. Fearing a loss of ascendency in the fizzy drinks duopoly the
company took decisive action and in April 1985, amid great fanfare, Coca Cola
was replaced by New Coke. 79 days and some 400,000 complaints later though, the
original drink returned.
Fans of Cardiff City FC will be
hoping the backlash to the announcement of their own rebranding yields similar
results. From next season, the team nicknamed The Bluebirds will play their
home games in a red kit bearing a new club crest. The switch from red to blue has been enforced
as a condition of investment from Cardiff’s Malaysian owners, who feel the
changes will “help [Cardiff] develop its brand and to allow it to expand its
appeal to as wide an audience as possible”. Due to its association with
prosperity and good fortune, red is seen as more attractive colour in the Far
Eastern markets identified by the club as potentially lucrative. Although it
may sound like marketing spiel borrowed from HSBC’s “the world’s local bank”
campaign, Cardiff are adamant that they need to go along with this rebranding
exercise to “safeguard the immediate and long-term future
of the club.”
It’s fair to say the reaction
from fans has been less than enthusiastic. In an effort to prevent their clubs
nickname – The Bluebirds - becoming a painful and ironic reminder of what once
was, supporters fought an unsuccessful campaign to keep Cardiff blue. Even for
those who have taken the pragmatic approach - arguing a financially secure
Cardiff City that plays in red is better than a potentially insolvent Cardiff City
that plays in blue – last week’s announcement can hardly be considered a
victory. Instead, it’s a rather depressing example of football’s financial
realities running roughshod over supporter sentiment and years of tradition.
Unlike Cardiff, in the two years
prior to the disastrous launch of New Coke, Coca Cola extensively canvassed its
customers’ opinions about the proposed change. Over 200,000 Americans
participated in taste tests, the results of which compelled Goziueta to boldly describe
the launch of New Coke as “the surest move ever made”. There problem was that
while Coca Cola had been making sure people liked the way their new drink
tasted, they had neglected to consider customers’ sentimental attachment to the
(old) brand. Unusually, the spectacular U-Turn that followed proved mutually
beneficial to all parties. So pleased were customers to get their much loved
product back, that they bought it in huge numbers, revatalising Coke’s
stagnating sales and consolidating the company at the top of the pop pyramid. Indeed
such was the speed with which Coca Cola snatched victory from the jaws of
defeat in the New Coke debacle, that many have speculated that the entire
episode was a marketing ploy from day one.
Sadly for Cardiff the world’s
conspiracy theorists have yet to devise a plausible scenario in which this
colorful saga turns out to be anything other than what it is: the epitome of
all that’s wrong with modern football. The Uruguayan writer Eduardo Galeano described
the game as “a primordial
symbol of collective identity”. Alan Sugar said it’s “the only business
in the world where it's embarrassing to make money”. In a roundabout way both
men made the same point: football is exceptional. It’s a game where fans’
emotional ties and tribal allegiances to clubs, their traditions, heritage and
yes, the colour in which they play, takes precedence over commercial activities
and the will to turn a greater profit. Except it isn’t. Football’s sacred cows
have been on auction to the highest bidder for some time now. Clubs have moved
cities, changed names, ceased to exist. The beautiful game has been
contaminated by ugly language: leveraged
buy-outs; administration; liquidation. For their owners, clubs are no longer symbols
of local pride; they are global brands, whose merchandising potential must be maximized
at all costs.
In 1985 fearing dissent among its customer
base Coca Cola relented to their will. In 2012, the course of action taken by
Cardiff’s owners shows, in black and white, that shirt sales in Asia are more
important than the views of fans from the city whose name the club bears. And when
the leopard’s spots are up for sale, it’s a sign that the tail must be well and
truly wagging the dog.
