Barbara Lippert's Critique: Injured Reps Still Sell

It seems that every four years, the Olympics prove that it's tricky for brands to stake big campaigns on star athlete endorsers. The training and packaging part might boil down to a science, but that time- honored issue of human fall- ibility just keeps getting in the way. Sometimes, the outcome is benign and salvageable—as with Michelle Kwan's recent surprise departure from Torino. It was an injury, not a scandal, and she handled her emergency exit with grace and agility. Visa was right to keep her ad on the air. Kwan's entire career, including this latest ordeal, speaks to the spirit—and inevitable setbacks—involved in the process of becoming a disciplined Olympian. Coke also had something cooked up for Kwan, but killed it after she bowed out. Still, the spot probably could have run in some form, with a few amendments: Remember way back when Reebok and Chiat\Day bet big on following Dan and Dave at the summer Olympics? (Yeah, I know, at this point it's totally, "Dan-and-Dave-who?") Dan ended up not qualifying, and then Dave hurt his ankle. But once the unthinkable happened, the response from the agency was an "athletes are glorious'' spot (regardless of winning or losing). It was heartfelt and authentic, and showed more truth and humanity than anything that preceded it. It made us root for, pardon the expression, "the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels,'' yada yada. Nike was not an Olympic sponsor, but as a brand, the shoe company is phenomenal at dealing with the ups and downs of misfits and rebels. For more than a decade—the Jim Riswold years—Nike spots played off what was unique and vulnerable to the sports godhead in question, and then made fun of it. That's how his airness himself, Michael Jordan, happened to appear in black and white as a humbled but enormous comic foil to Spike Lee's lil' messenger, Mars Blackmon. Nike spots also provided a forum for fellow NBA'er Charles Barkley to mouth off about how he's "not a role model." "Parents should be role models," he said in a controversial spot. "Just because I dunk a basketball doesn't mean I should raise your kids." That was met with scorn from parents who hadn't realized he'd been acting as their nanny. By agreeing to sign Nike's checks, he was, indeed, a role model.In another, much more complicated category of athlete endorsement is Kobe Bryant. The L.A. Lakers star's first-ever Nike spot to promote his Zoom Kobe 1 shoe broke two weeks ago, capitalizing on his 81-point performance and arriving just in time to add to the All-Star Game's hype. "Kobe's inclusion in marketing and promotional material is an acknowledgment of his elevated level of sports performance," read a Nike press release.It's also an acknowledgement that time flies in marketing terms—that Nike has the temerity to cash in less than three years after Bryant faced a trial for sexual assault charges. The case was settled, but a rape charge is a pretty ugly thing. And shortly after hitting the basketball court again, he managed to alienate a lot of his fans and teammates with his arrogance, aloofness and public feuds with Shaquille O'Neal and coach Phil Jackson.Nike quietly reintroduced him last year in a print ad that listed adjectives to describe him—"selfish," "overrated" and "uncoachable"—while Bryant rebutted each.In the meantime, despite his past unlikeabilty, there's a huge underground market for anything Bryant. His NBA jerseys have been flying off the rack, and a special version of his shoe has become a collector's item. Before the trial, Bryant had crossover, mainstream appeal—and that's why McDonald's and Sprite had signed him (though they dropped him when the charges were made). Paradoxically, the trial earned him street cred: Now he was a victim.From a strictly business point of view, Nike's TV work at this moment couldn't be more dead-on if it had been created by a top political strategist. In fact, political strategists could learn a lot from it. The spot smartly emphasizes the negative, by embracing his swagger and arrogance, rather than trying to cover up or sugarcoat a thing. In that way, it comes off as startlingly honest and authentic. At the same time, it offers the biggest non-mea culpa ever, and feeds on our built-up immunity to scandal.Through scratchy, black-and-white film, underscored by the sound of steady pounding, it opens with Bryant shooting free throws. "Love me or hate me, it's one or the other. Always has been,''he says in voiceover. We then see the L.A. Laker working out and running drills. "Hate my fadeaway, my hunger. Hate that I'm a veteran. A champion. Hate that. Hate it with all your heart. And hate that I'm loved, for the exact same reasons."But there's more going on than the sheer poetry of the riff. There's a very subtle, subliminal acknowledgment of possible felonies past: the basketball court could be a prison courtyard, and the pounding drum sounds and gritty aesthetic feel like an A&E-style crime documentary. The film is beautifully scored and edited, and the last shot, right before the "Just Do It'' title card comes up, shows him seated, facing the camera, as if it's a still photograph, like a mug shot.It's brilliant and troubling, just like him.Kobe is reinvented as a lone wolf, an enfant terrible—and an economic force of nature. The spot is not a risky move, as it will undoubtedly sell shoes. It gives us the anti-hero for our times. For me, though, I've got to say, it comes too soon.AgencyWieden + Kennedy, Portland, Ore.Creative directorMike ByrneWriterBrian FordArt director Jayanta jenkinsAgency producerShannon WorleyDirectorBrian FordProduction companyIndependent Media

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Barbara Lippert's Critique: Injured Reps Still Sell

Barbara Lippert

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Barbara Lippert