Herewith a report on official products affiliated with sports teams, events, athletes and other bold-face personages for the purposes of brainwashing—or, if you prefer, “marketing”—to target audiences. Sort of what the new breed known as influencers trafficks in.
Some of these business alliances are obvious. Old Spice is the official deodorant of the NFL. Omega is the official timekeeper of the Olympic Games. Dairy Queen is the official post-game destination of Little League Baseball and Big League Chew is the official bubblegum of Major League Baseball. Inglasco, which makes hockey pucks, is the official supplier of such necessary implements of the NHL.
Beyond those connections, think in terms of assumed purchasing habits of sport’s primary prey, the fans. Gambling: You have FanDuel as the official sportsbook of every major pro sports league—football, baseball, basketball, hockey, golf and tennis. Cars: Toyota, official automotive partner of the NFL. And, of course, beer: Michelob is the official beer of the NBA, Bud Lite of the NFL, Budweiser of Major League Baseball. (Might having Anheuser-Busch and its various brands as official alcohol products of NASCAR create an uncomfortable image of drinking and driving fast?)
There are all sorts of official shoes of one organization or another; official soft drinks, official banking partners, official cookies, official team watch parties, not to mention an official cryptocurrency platform of the Dallas Cowboys. There even, according to that great source, Google, is an official state car of the president of the United States.
Anyway, here’s the latest. The United States Swimming federation has just announced that a company named Cirkul, identified as “a modern beverage platform,” has been designated the organization’s “official hydration supplier.” In effect, U.S. Swimming’s official water. Which prompted my friend, veteran Olympic reporter Jay Weiner, to ask, “Aren’t swimmers already wet enough?”
This fundamental collaboration recalls a thoroughly reasonable, if not entirely serious, suggestion years ago by Olympic official Bob Condron that there ought to have been an official cigar of the Cuba-based 1991 Pan American Games. And if one were inclined toward sarcasm, given a sporting event so often tainted by its champions caught doping, should there be an official steroid of the Tour de France?
Jay recalled another incident that might have led to product endorsement, the occasion when Olympic figure skater Paul Wylie, late for a news conference, apologized by explaining, “Sorry, guys. I was moisturizing.”
Stifle that giggle. According to a 2016 post on nba.com, there might well be a market for an official moisturizer of the NBA. In the report, a handful of Portland Trail Blazers discussed moisturizing preferences—maybe Aveeno or Jergens?—and one player, Gerald Henderson, noted that he was keen on any brand with cocoa butter.
It certainly seems to be an article of faith among advertisers that potential customers want to eat the same cereal and drive the same truck as their celebrity or athletic heroes. Still, the Cleveland Browns’ deal last season in introducing white “throwback” helmets sounded a little too—ahem—personal.
The team announced that its so-called “White Out Series” of games in which the Browns wore those helmets was “presented by DUDE Wipes,” which the product’s company bragged were “flushable wipes” responsible for “billions of butts wiped” and a “hole revolution against toilet paper.”
Such a contractual agreement logically avails a team and its players to all the perks and benefits that entails. So when Arizona Diamondbacks pitcher Archie Bradley revealed in an interview that he had a bowel accident during a game, he received a shipment of said DUDE Wipes—which he then broadcast on social media. After New York Jets running back Isaiah Crowell celebrated a touchdown in 2018 and pretended to swab his derriere with the football, DUDE Wipes signed him up to do endorsements. (Crowell also got an official unsportsmanlike conduct penalty.)
Let’s move on. Beyond such harmlessly goofy promotions as Finnair’s claim to be the official airline of Santa Claus, there was the appalling legislation proposed by the fabulist George Santos, before he was summarily booted out of Congress, to make the AR-15 assault rifle the official gun of the United States. And, speaking of prevarications, there was a social media post claiming that “Marathon” was the official cigarette of the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. Just a hoax, though there apparently is a Marathon-brand cigarette produced in Greece, which really is the original home of the Olympics. Officially.