Fan For Life

Last year I took my girls to an Oakland A's game. Actually, I've been taking them since they were old enough to share my disdain for Al Davis's horrendous remodel of the Oakland Coliseum, turning it from an open, airy, beautiful ballpark into an enclosed, confined, dank and dungeonous prison. But each year they get a little more excited, a little more into it.

We typically go a couple times a season, taking Amtrak from Sacramento right to the Coliseum itself - an easy (although not cheap) and very fun father/daughter bonding experience. Really, what's more fun for kids than trains, baseball, ice cream, hot dogs and Dot Racing on the jumbotron?

But last year was different. Suddenly, Reese, my oldest daughter (8 at the time), was...more aware of everything. Asking questions, memorizing players' names, commenting on the action and cheering at the right times. "What's a warning track?" "Why do they spit so much?" "The third baseman is obviously overpaid..."

When we returned home that night, she asked if she could get on my computer and see the Oakland A's website. Over the next two hours, she went through the entire site, writing down the players' names, reading about their history, and turning into a true "fan."

Afterward, she came to me and asked if she could write a letter to some players - she really wanted an autograph. So I suggested she pick out a few names, write each a letter and I'd help her with addressing and mailing them.

"I'm done!" she proudly proclaimed later that evening as she handed me a stack of six letters. I was impressed - she hand wrote each one, and included her own baseball card - autographed no less (from her softball team). The basic gist was,

"Dear ____"


I am an eight year old girl and I want to be the first girl to ever play on the A's. Is there any advice you can give me?


How do you like playing for the A's? They are my favorite team.


Well, I have to go now. Could I have your autograph? I'm sending you mine as well.


Thank you. Go A's!


Reese Farrell

This was just awesome - I loved it! It was exactly what I myself had done as a child, and I even still had a couple dozen autographed pictures from baseball stars of the late 70's and early 80's buried somewhere in a closet. I remember feeling so connected to the sport, to the teams and, obviously, to the players - it was a special feeling. I was excited that she was going to have a similar experience.

The next day the letters were off. But that didn't stop Reese from running in the door after school and yelling, "Did I get any letters today?"

Too cute. I tried to gently curb her enthusiasm by explaining that it takes some time for the mail to get to the team, and maybe even more time to get to the players. On top of that, the players are playing almost every day, traveling all over the country - they're super busy. She needed to have patience - it could take a month or more for a reply.

In all honesty, I was happy she sent a bunch of letters. With six out there, I was sure she'd get at least one response back, but in all honesty, I didn't expect any response from any of the players; I expected the A's to handle these types of correspondence with a form letter or something (the letters were addressed to the Oakland Coliseum).

Each day - literally - for the next month, Reese would excitedly ask, "Any mail for me today?!" And each day, I would have to gently tell her to continue to be patient. "I know," she would say, "But I just want one person to respond. Just one. That's all I'm hoping for...."

So she did not forget, and her excitement did not abate. She had told all her friends, her teacher, our neighbors, the garbage man, her Webkinz, the flock of wild turkeys that showed up in our front yard one morning... I sensed that this was potentially going to be an interesting life lesson for her - one way or another.

Time moved on. Soon, I realized that nearly three months had passed without as much as a peep from the A's. Unlike Reese (whom I clearly can learn something from), who had reserved a small amount of hope - even now -for a response, my patience had worn thin. When we actually hit the 90 day mark, my blood pressure was high - I was pissed off.

Who did these people think they were? I'm not talking about the players here - these guys are 20 year old meatheads who are playing 6 days a week, traveling constantly, and have likely prioritized "respond to fan mail" just below "find misplaced Cruex coupon." No, they were blameless in my eyes.

But the A's organization - this was absolutely unforgivable! How do they not have as a cornerstone to their customer service philosophy a system in which all fan mail that comes directly to their doorstep is categorized and responded to appropriately? How are there not a couple of interns who simply sort through the mail, fire off a form letter of acknowledgement/appreciation, and then route the letter to the respective player whom it was addressed to? On top of this, it's not like this is the Yankees or anything - it's the LOWLY A'S. How much fan mail are they really getting?!

I located the email address for the A's Director of Customer Support and wrote a calm, tactful email/plea from a father's perspective of his daughter's expectation/anticipation. I laid out that it was irrational for us to expect a player to respond to the likely scores of requests fans make of them. However, from a marketing perspective, why would the A's organization allow players to be the sole determination of how young fans perceived the organization/brand as a whole? Players come and go nowadays; attempting to form a bond with them is ridiculous when their sole motivation is typically to follow the money, and they will likely move from organization to organization throughout their career.

However, from the A's organization perspective, here they have an opportunity to secure a fan for life. And that fan is even proactively contacting them! If they can ensure a positive experience with this girl, she will likely be loyal to them for years to come - spending money on games, overpriced food, souvenirs, etc., and potentially even attempting to pass along that bond to her children (like me to Reese).

But if she feels the organization doesn't care about her - as exemplified by their cold dismissal of her attempt to make a personal connection with their brand...forget about it, she will move on to find another organization who does care about her. And in this case, a simple form letter - the cost of a photocopy and postage - could ensure that bond to the A's for years to come.

I signed it as a father who simply was trying to pass along my love and close connection for the A's to my daughter...and that I felt we both had been let down.

Overboard? I don't think so. Emotional and judgmental? Absolutely. Hey, this is me we're talking about here.

Sure enough, within 24 hours the Director contacted me with full apologies. She wrote that she completely understood and wanted another chance to make it up to my daughter. She was very thankful I had cared enough to share my experience with her and told me to look for something to arrive at our house soon...

A couple days later UPS knocked on the door with a package for Reese. The return address said, "Oakland A's." When Reese got home from school her face lit up like a spotlight. "They responded!!!" she yelled to the world as she tore into the box: trading cards, stickers, other knickknacks, and, the cherry on top:  a beautiful, fitted, very expensive knitted A's hat.

She didn't take that hat off for the next month.

You've never seen somebody so happy, feeling so appreciated...existence: acknowledged. The A's have a fan for life, and not only that, but she's now had such a positive experience, she shares it with as many people as she can: friends, school mates, Giants fans...

Look, the point is this: if you're in the business of needing customer engagement to realize your business goals, you'd better have a damn good plan to proactively anticipate every possible way to accomplish it. We've all heard the theories that when somebody has a positive experience with a brand, they might tell a couple people, but when they have a negative experience, they tell twenty. Nothing is more powerful than taking care of your customers before they ever realize they need it.

Do you see where I'm going with this with regards to last night's episode? Rob - little adolescent, annoying, childish Rob has this all figured out. Coach weeping and wallowing in a sea of self pity? Rob comes to the rescue, acknowledges his existence, gives him good advice, and, strongly and forcefully, dictates the path Coach must/will take to be redeemed. "Trust me, Coach. Just trust me."

Coach, of course, is instantly better. He's a Rob fan for life now. If Rob had ended his speech with a bunch of Rob trading cards and stickers and then playfully placed a Rob hat on top of Coach's head after lovingly mussing up his hair, it couldn't have been any more powerful. Tremendous job, Rob.

And by the way, when exactly did Rob get all growns up? He was an annoying, annoying a-hole in his first season, and an unexpected, but still annoying force his second. Can anyone truly say they weren't absolutely floored when breathtaking Amber proclaimed her love for this goofball a few years back?

But now - holy geez - the man is actually an absolute stud. I like him. And I am fully routing for him. Rock the fuck on Rob!

Of course, the underlying drama in the episode actually occurs on the other side of the island in a much-needed blindside, saving eye-candy Colby and jettisoning ear-hot sauce Cirie.

But in my mind, that's all secondary to Rob the Godfather. Granted, Coach crying was...so fulfilling in oh so many ways. But Rob...wow.

The postscript to my A's story is that only a month or so ago, Reese finally did get a response from one of the players she had written to: Gio Gonzalez. He - apparently - had selected a random picture from a already developed roll, a picture which he clearly wasn't going to put in a photo album because it was so blurry and totally off-center, where he is sitting in the stands of a ballpark somewhere looking to the side. But he did sign it to Reese, and wrote a personal message across the front of the picture in thick, dark black permanent marker, and she, of course loved it.

It doesn't take much to make an impression. But that impression can be powerful...and last a lifetime.

Of course, Rob could get booted next week and the Giants could send my daughter a hat and a glove, changing her allegiance...but that's life too, damnit.

So the lesson is: be fickle.

Whoops, I mean, be flexible.

No wait, the lesson is actually: be opportunistic.

No no...sorry, hold on... The lesson is: marry a hot chick.

Yeah.

Done.

PB