Tuesday 10th December 2013 at 10:10AM
In a recent survey I asked fans of a club how valued they felt. 99.9% took that at face value, separated out their deeper love for their club from their individual experiences and gave an answer. All except one fan. He (he might have been a she, of course) said: ‘What a stupid question. I don’t want my team to value me. I’m here to value them!’
It’s an interesting answer, especially as it sheds some light on supporters’ traditional rejection of the term ‘customers’. For one part, as the gentleman above succinctly articulates, ‘customers’ don’t generally provide a service to the product provider. Furthermore, there’s also a suspicion that such perceived semantic shiftiness only has one aim: namely that your passion for this club is only of interest to us when it means we can shift more merchandise.
Ask any Hull City fan right now. They’re being asked to accept an apparently proven principle of marketing: the shorter and more memorable the name, the more commercially successful the organisation will be. So try shortening Dixons.
It doesn’t work (unless you feel the resultant name better expresses the level of service they used to provide). Hull City’s current owner clearly believes the Tigers’ fan base are customers who might forget the club’s name if it were to be longer than two syllables. Heaven help Borussia Monchengladbach (were they not already supporter-owned).
The problem is this. Too many club owners have a clear understanding of ‘what’ football is. They just keep forgetting to ask the question ‘why?’
The irony, of course, is that the world’s most successful businesses are characterised by immensely powerful ‘brands’, built on a detailed and sophisticated understanding of their customers’ motivations, expectations and behaviours. They ask the question ‘why’ continuously, even when their products are no more than every day commodities.
Starbucks, for example, just sells coffee, but it’s built a brand that’s become a global phenomenon, based on data that has told them people want to sup sweet warm milk-based drinks in a fair-trade themed environment with a soundtrack of warbling nu-folk minstrels and cakes that cost a fortune. Well I like it.
As I’ve argued before, Starbucks would KILL to own a football club, because their starting point there wouldn’t be a boring commodity, but a deeply emotional concept that represents (often only after their families) the most important heartbeat in many people’s lives. Imagine what they could do with that. They’d probably noticed you’ve ‘checked in’ to their stadium vicinity before the game. They’d send you a message to your smart phone telling you that two of your Facebook friends are in block D today and you could upgrade by answering ‘yes’ to join them. That already happens at Sporting Kansas City, by the way, venue of the MLS final last weekend.
Starbucks takes the commodity and turns it into an experience. Football has a tendency to do the opposite. It takes the most beautiful thing in the world and turns it into a ticket, a shirt and a programme, when it means so much more to people. In these circumstances doesn’t it make sense to ask ‘why?’, find out what the club means to its different supporter groups, start to separate out the strands of the club’s DNA, distil some values and work like a brand to build the business?
Both Seattle Sounders and Borussia Dortmund have ‘brand wheels’ which encapsulate their clubs’ core values, key beliefs and enduring principles. These guide the clubs in their decision-making and ensure that anything – everything – that is done reflects what they believe the club stands for. And they can do that because they have engaged with their ‘customers’, asked them what the club means to them and had them road test the values by giving feedback on their experiences.
Middlesbrough FC has created a set of values: honesty, respect and humility. As someone who lived in the town for a couple of years, I can identify with those words. But what’s interesting is how these beliefs are beginning to flavour supporters’ experiences at the Club.
In the hugely popular Generation Red Family Zone, in amongst the fantastic range of activities and entertainment for kids, sits a bright red bucket marked ‘Honesty Flags’. As the sign on the bucket explains, kids (and their parents) can take these flags, wave them in support of their team, write their names on them, but return them to the bucket so that other kids can use them. And the more the club learns about what matters to kids, the more the ways they find to delight them. One little girl, on attending her first match at the Riverside, sat quietly looking downcast (it is Boro, after all). When her Dad asked what was wrong, she said ‘there are no tiaras’. She’d naturally assumed that if this were a place for kids, then she’d be able to dress up. She can now.
When Ana and I first began our footballing odyssey, what struck me as most attractive about the experience – seeing the different grounds and learning about what made them special – was something that my wife, as a new supporter, couldn’t see at all.
She used to describe the experiences as ‘same song, different lyrics’ and that somehow, to her, perfectly described the sense of ‘sameness’ she felt as we travelled around, when she was expecting something different. Having endured my love of Sunderland AFC over the years, but never attended a match, she expected to see and feel something of each club’s identity when she visited their stadia. Unfortunately, with the honourable exception of Liverpool, she felt that most clubs were missing an obvious opportunity.
Middlesbrough’s journey in recent years speaks of a club trying to build its match day experiences around a stronger, more informed sense of identity and that can only be a good thing. I’ve already written much about Doncaster Rovers and admired what they’ve done, just from one tiny strand of their DNA (their self-deprecation) so I’d like to see more clubs translate their values, DNA and identity into experiences that don’t just remind existing fans why they love their clubs so much, but also reach out to the new supporter too.
Inconvenience Stores is a unique service travelogue, exposing the best and (mostly) the worst of UK customer service.
Retails of the Unexpected continues his unique service travelogue with a collection of essays, articles and real customer experiences.
The Song of the Soul Mark Bradley and Rich Cundill's official biography of Martin Stephenson, the North East's most famous musical troubadour.
This is the official website of The Fan Experience Company, a trading division of Mark Bradley Projects Ltd
Registered Offices: 14 Greenacre Avenue, Wyke, Bradford, BD12 9DE
Companies House Registration Number: 0548 7032. Registered in England
VAT Registration Number: 859890748