by Sean Oliver
Getting back to our faux pas with the presidential style debate back in 2008, Harley came back as a confirmation, but I was told Bruno’s offer was too low. It was a tough spot because without both men, the show was obviously impossible. It wasn’t an easy decision. Our initial offer on money had been countered considerably higher by the promoter. Would we go that high?
Anthony and I hemmed and hawed a bit. I was haunted by the recurring phrase “for history’s sake.” And when Anthony put the ultimate decision in my hands, that phrase caused me to make a mistake. I greenlit the show. I listened to only The Blood.
Make no mistake, for history’s sake this was a great decision. To this day it remains the only time both champions appear on-camera together talking about the sport they dominated. But from a fiscal standpoint, I didn’t step out of The Blood and see that the market for the wrestling historian offers a smaller share of sales. When we can design programming that touches a few markets at once, finding the historian but also the younger fans, or just fans of revealing, edgy stuff, those shows do the best. Back then especially, when we were in the process of redefining this shoot programming market, this was singularly geared toward the old-school wrestling historian. And simply put, those shows don’t sell as well. Kevin Nash outsells Bruno Sammartino. Jim Cornette outsells Harley Race. The shoot market may be the only place where that happens, but it does.
It’s all relative though. You don’t stop producing programming geared to the wrestling historian. But you have to budget those shows accordingly. Either that or you have to simultaneously hit another, more salable element. Our shows with Cornette, the loudmouth, outspoken wrestling manager and booker, sell tremendously because Jim is a true student of wrestling history but also wildly salacious and vitriolic. The historians eat it up, as do the younger fans who want the uncensored venom Jim directs at those he despises in the business. He’s also wildly entertaining to listen to. His gift of gab and phraseology is unparalleled on camera.
But Harley and Bruno’s show, titled The Great Debate ‘08, would be straight history and perhaps a bit dry as well. I should have known better than to overspend on something I probably suspected would have a marginal return. Did I even know it would have a marginal return at that point? I don’t know. We were in the shoot game just over a year and likely didn’t have enough supporting data. The Blood made my decision. It showed me pictures of how the historical significance of the show would drive unexpected sales. I based this on nothing more than hope, and The Blood’s false promise that others would love it because I would. Sometimes you have to be much more honest with your gut.
The show was entertaining, but it was predictably dry. We simply weren’t yet at a level where we could command enough attention in that marketplace to propel sales to the levels we needed for a show like that. A few years later it might have been a different story. But back in 2008 we were still wild horses—revolutionizing our industry and trying crazy, innovative things to carve our niche. We should have employed a little more discipline.
This is an example of preventable illness #1 listed above—Cost of this idea is too high in relation to expected returns. This one is simple to avoid, as it just requires honesty, market knowledge, and a pencil. As years went on I didn’t ever consider a large scale, costly venture without a realistic pro forma—a speculative financial breakdown of expected costs and returns. I actually do multiple pro formas, using a set of variables for each one—best case scenarios, worst case scenarios, higher costs, lower costs, etc. In the end, you need to know how much you have to sell in order to get the return you want.
If you do this accurately and honestly, you’ll be able to better judge whether or not new ideas are good ideas for business. If it shows up as a bad idea on paper, you might not want to discard it just yet. Work a little harder to find a way to make it work. Maybe there’s a hidden revenue stream you didn’t consider that would tip the scales for you a bit. Maybe pay-per-view, T-shirts, a live audience, and a meet and greet would have delivered enough to justify doing The Great Debate ‘08. Probably not, given the costs of those.
At Kayfabe Commentaries, our live events always ran a tight pro forma. We didn’t do many. We shoot almost all of our programming in controlled, studio-style setups. However there were some occasions where we ran live tapings, with an audience, and sizable expenses. We co-produced the Ring Roasts series of live, celebrity, comedy roasts for pro wrestlers, as well as a live version of our popular, uncensored series YouShoot. Margins were slim and extremely variable. They depended on long-range results with the eventual release of the DVD, in exchange for lots of up-front costs. It was a tough model, a risky one.
The addition of iPPV, which is streaming Internet pay-per-view offered to fans around the world, changed the model in our favor. Now the immediate offset to the expenses wasn’t limited to only the fans in the building, nor did you have to wait six months for the DVD release to deliver that revenue. Our ticket sales were now truly global, as fans driving to the event in Jersey could see it at the very same time as a guy in Belgium, via his computer. That additional revenue stream tipped the pro forma for us.
The second form of preventable illness you might encounter when considering a new decision involves a much larger scale issue and can harm your company over time, and much more severely than a one-time expense error. When you betray your brand, you’re in trouble. In many ways, it’s everything you are.
5. Brand
ONE OF THE ancillary duties of Kayfabe Commentaries is to sometimes secure other bookings for the talent we are using while they are in town. Many times they already have multiple bookings, KC just being one of their stops, and we all bump into each other at various events over a few days. Terry Funk asked me when he was going home every time he saw me for an entire weekend, and we weren’t even the ones who brought him out.
On one of those multiple-event weekends, we had a vendor table at a Pro Wrestling Syndicate show. They were a very professional indie company that ran a great show, booked great talent, and drew great houses for an independent. We’d had a great business relationship with their company until their flea-bag booker tried to fuck me on a deal, shortly after he split with the company and its very capable owner Pat Buck, under similar circumstances. More on that sideways deal later.
On this night we partnered with Shane Douglas on a vendor space at the recreation center packed with fans. Earlier in the day between shoots, I overheard that the promotion really wanted Shane Douglas to be a part of their card that night, as they were doing a tribute to Mick Foley. Shane trained with Mick when they first started out, so naturally it made sense to have Shane up there to honor Mick. There wasn’t going to be any significant money in the shot for him, but I wanted Buck to have him. Shane was at the same resort as we were that day doing a convention, and though he wasn’t a guest of KC’s that weekend, I like him a lot and I offered him a spot at our vendor table and a split of the merchandise he brought to our table. He took the gig and was appreciative.
Also at our table that night was the venerable Kevin Sullivan. Kevin was always one of my favorite guys to hang with. He’s full of wisdom and listens as intently as he talks—a rarity for a wrestler.
This was Kevin’s first time at a PWS show and I’d been telling him about their great crowds and he sat there at our table and marveled at the fed’s operation. The action was great and the fans came in droves. The federation used established talent, mixed with wrestling students from their school in New York. On that night, one of the trainees did an “ass spot” in a match which, for all of you readers of Margaret Atwood out there, is a part of the match where a wrestler’s trunks are momentarily drawn down in the back, exposing his backside and causing him great embarrassment.
Problem was this trainee didn’t pull the damn trunks back up. He may have thought it was funny and if it was just a quick flash you could pass it off as a comical accident. But this frigging kid wrestled for about five minutes with his ass out in fro
nt of 800 people. I knew it wasn’t a good thing—there were cops and building officials there. But Sullivan started going crazy.
“No, no!” he was yelling from our table as he watched what was going on in the ring. He had no actual stake in the show; he just knew a problem when he saw it. “He’s gonna lose this house! Text your friend and tell him to send word to that kid to cut that shit out!” I pulled out my phone and texted Pat. “Oh my God!” Sullivan went on and didn’t stop for the whole time the cheeks were out under the hot lights, adding quite the fragrance for the ringside fans, no doubt.
Eventually the kid pulled himself together and finished the match with his tights up. As I understood it, Pat went nuts on him in the dressing room when he returned. And I knew why, as did Kevin Sullivan.
The kid was damaging the federation’s brand.
Comedy spots are okay here and there, even for a roughneck company like PWS. But the fact that this kid worked almost and entire match with his brown eye winking at the audience went beyond what that company should have been doing. It wasn’t hardcore and it had ceased to be funny. It was stupid even after just a minute or so, and that was not what this federation was positioning itself as, with regular appearances from ECW legends and other tough guys like Fit Finlay and Mick Foley. This kid standing in that ring later on that night apologizing to the crowd so Pat didn’t lose that house was softening that brand. It sucked. I felt bad Pat Buck had to be a den father. But I got it. His brand was at risk.
Brand is one of the most overused and least fully understood concepts in business. As a consumer we’re usually dealing with brand in the most incorrect way—as a label, rather than an identity.
“We need dish detergent, dear.”
“What brand?”
“Cascade.”
As a business owner, that should trouble you. If your brand is nothing but a label, you’re on your way toward the depersonalization and the oblivion of cluttered shelves. The label isn’t the brand.
There is also sometimes unjust emphasis on just the visual elements being one’s brand. Your logo isn’t your brand. Your colors aren’t your brand. They should be indicative of your brand, carrying its message. They should evoke the qualities on which your brand is predicated. But these elements just adorn your brand, not unlike one’s sport coat might tell us something about their personality.
Your company is very similar to a person, and you should probably think of it like one. There should be traits and characteristics consistent with its brand. This is your company’s personality, simply put. And the most successfully branded companies have such strong personality, we know immediately when we are watching an advertisement for them. There exists a flavor that’s carefully crafted and associated with that company.
Apple is a fine example. I know what to expect from an Apple advertisement. I know the tone of voice, I know the attitude, I know it will be cool and perhaps a little irreverent. Their logo is a friggin’ white Apple. Does that logo immediately speak to the company’s personality? I’d suggest it’s everything else about Apple, from their sleek innovative products, to their smart and inspiring advertising, that reinforces the brand. More so than the little Apple with a bite taken out of it.
Branding is very important. Large corporations have an entire department dedicated to maintaining the integrity of its brand. Again, a lot of emphasis is placed on the physical, and though it may be your company’s calling card, it is secondary to some more important features. The physical aspect of your brand should only be reflective of the internal elements of that brand. Those internal elements are what you should labor over, worry about, and fight to protect for the long-term. You can change your logo as much as you want, I guess. If you have to compromise something, let it be the physical element of brand. In rank, your brand is comprised of:
1. Your promise
2. Your product
3. Your design
Promise
First and foremost, your consumer needs to know what to expect from you, and they will only know that if your promise is clear. Promises will vary from industry to industry, but it’s what all commercials should be selling to us. Ads for home security systems always show some man in some uniform, vaguely law enforcement, and a room of stone-faced officials monitoring charts and gizmos we assume to be watching our home when we are gone. The visuals alone promise us safety and the swift hand of justice at our side.
What do car companies spend their time promising us? Many times we see the shiny vehicle taking turns on empty, country roads. I directed an ad just like that and we spent a great deal of time making the car look sexy and fun. There’s the promise for those ads—fun. Sometimes though, we see slow-motion, crash test dummy shots in a car ad. Safety is the promise being made there. Next time you see a car ad, ask yourself what the promise is.
Product
The next most important element to the overall perception of your company’s personality is your product. Apple can position themselves in the minds of consumers as uber-cool innovators only because their product line is seen as very cool and innovative. The product has to deliver on the promise. Seems basic. If Apple’s product line were just clunky and unattractive knockoffs of already existing electronics, it doesn’t matter how much emphasis they put into the commercials, print ads, and store layout. The product wouldn’t keep the promise that the advertising makes. The consumers would see it as bullshit.
Have we ever strayed at KC? Of course. We’re content providers so there’s naturally a tendency to produce a variety of material. The real trick is keeping it similar enough, while different. How’s that for a frigging task? Innovate, but don’t change.
There have been a few times when we went too far out into left field. I love countdowns, so here are the Top 5 Deviations from KC’s Brand.
#5 - Bombshells - On its surface, talking about pro wrestling with the ladies of the sport is not much of a deviation at all. But we didn’t really probe the inner workings of the business. The modern era of wrestling doesn’t make for good, protracted discussion. Nothing in wrestling today, whether male or female, is behind the curtain—the magic is performed with the audience seeing all the strings. That series was a heartfelt attempt at paying tribute to the ladies of the ring, but the indie stories failed to regale fans and even the fans of today’s ladies federations didn’t want to hear much chatter.
#4 - Next Evolution - See above, add penises.
#3 - The Great Debate ‘08 - Bruno Sammartino and Harley Race sitting down and talking the championship eras of WWWF and NWA is certainly a concept that is consistent with KC’s brand. But we wrapped it in this stupid, mock debate setting to play off the U.S. presidential debates that year. It made for a clumsy format and because I served as moderator only, unable to interview them and ask follow up questions, the show sank as I watched.
The entire reason I appeared on-camera as the host of KC’s shows was so I could ensure the result. I usually guided the conversation, pressed when I needed to, and asked poignant follow-up questions. In this show, I did none of that. It was a softcore debate and I had two of the most legendary champions in the same room! And I did nothing with it. It was a failure of epic proportion—I took two world-class chefs and asked them to make sandwiches. Fuck me.
#2 - Ring Roasts - …because the celebrity comedy roast is the natural home of the retired wrestler. Trying it with The Iron Sheik made sense, since he was doing the comedy circuit with comedian Bob Levy and some Howard Stern Show cast-offs. But I’m not sure it should have been us doing it, and I now know for sure it should have stopped after Sheiky.
#1 - Missy Hyatt’s Pajama Party - It was such a deviation that I actually enjoyed the challenge of figuring out how to do it. If you were the commissioner of the NFL and you were forced to stage a ballet to open the Super Bowl, that challenge might be fun. But good Lord, it doesn’t belong there.
KC was becoming quite well known and we were lauded for our innovations and risk-taking. That false s
ense of security sometimes allows you to make the mistake of thinking people will respect any attempt you make to do something different. And to me, that’s what we were doing—producing something different. Couldn’t we take the stars of the ring and create programming that spotlit their talents and didn’t necessarily follow a shoot interview format? I thought we could.
I still thought we could when we produced Raven’s Restler Rescue, which I still think was great. That show was much closer to the heart of what we do at KC, as it drew the curtain back on the business and let fans see the creation of a wrestler’s entire gimmick. It didn’t succeed, but RRR was not a deviation from brand, so it wouldn’t belong on this list. It was just a new flavor of coffee.
But the pajama party thing was the result of an overdose on the success of our company and the cult-like dedication of our fans. We screwed them a bit there.
For the record I think Missy did a good job hosting. It wasn’t easy—the concept was very broad. Anthony and Missy prepared the format and created the questions. We had a large white board off camera so I could communicate with her during the show without breaking the spontaneity of the girls frolicking on the bed.
Oh yeah…for those that didn’t see it, I suppose there should be a brief synopsis:
Missy Hyatt, Lacey Von Erich, and Amy Lee sit on a giant, silky bed for an hour and a half, play games, grab boobs, make prank phone calls to wrestlers…tonight, following the Nightly News!
I thought it went exactly as we designed it to. It was funny, provocative, and for the horn-dogs we had a “Fake an Orgasm” game, as well as the “Real or Fake” touching segment. Fun for the whole family. And for the record, on that very same set just three hours later, Jim Cornette shot his genre-defining edition of Guest Booker. When we told him what he’d missed he asked if I sterilized the room. And me and Jim’s on-camera relationship was born.
