The Golden State Warriors: More Groucho than Karl
So the Warriors' "Meet Baron Davis" essay contest is a feel-good thing, right? Pride of the franchise, gram ma-ma, and some lucky kid with the gift of written expression. Well it was a feel-good thing until we started reading the Official Contest Rules.
On a special promotional page of the Warriors' official website, Bay Area students ages 7 to 12 are encouraged to "write a 300-word essay to Baron's grandmother telling her about the most influential person in your life." The understanding is that the author of the most compelling entry will get to meet Baron Davis and go to a Warriors game.
But careful reading of the Official Contest Rules begs the question, does this have anything to do with actually picking the best entry, or, will literally any entry do so long as its author can be showcased in strong PR fashion? Is this about motivating kids to apply themselves for a merit-based reward or is it about having a showcase for the Warriors' marketing plan?
SFist Chris "The Truthmaker" Contributing
From paragraph 4 of the Official Contest Rules:
"Five (5) finalists will each receive two (2) tickets to the December 7, 2005 Golden State Warriors game against the Phoenix Suns. The Grand Prize winner will be announced at halftime. If a Finalist cannot attend the December 7, 2005 game, he or she will be declared ineligible for the Grand Prize and another Finalist will be selected to replace him/her and be made eligible for the Grand Prize."
Clearly, it makes no never mind to the Warriors marketing department who steps up to half court during the Suns game and accepts the spotlight, so long as some warm body does. Why even go through the charade of calling it a contest if the only real criteria appears to be a kid's availability on the night of December 7, 2005, which, by the way, is a Wednesday night. Last I checked, Wednesday was still a school night, and age-eligible kids for this contest (ages 7-12, see paragraph 1 of Official Contest Rules) should probably be getting ready for bed about the time they're supposed to receiving their award for winning the Baron Davis writing contest. If the game starts at 7:30, that puts halftime, when the awards ceremony is supposed to take place, at about 9:00 pm. Even if a kid went right home after getting the award, they probably couldn't be in bed any sooner than 10:00. That's pretty late for a seven year old.
What happens if little Janie has an important algebra test the next day? Why not two nights later on Friday night against the defending Eastern Conference Champion Pistons? Or two weeks later when school is out for the holiday break? A Wednesday night! The Warriors go to great lengths to create an entire kid-centered campaign and the kid's reward is tickets to a week night game? At best, it's imcompetence; at worst, it's a cynical lack of regard for the people this contest was supposedly about--the kids.
And then there's the insidiously parsimonious nature of the award itself. Yes, the winner does get some stuff. But it is really insulting how the haves hand out peanuts and expect the have-nots to act like they were just handed a pile of NBA-quality bling. What does the winner, if they are able to attend a school-night Warriors game, win?
* Winner will meet Baron Davis
* Personalized Autographed Baron Davis Jersey
* Picture taken with Baron Davis
* Winning essay posted on Warriors.com
* Two (2) tickets to the December 7, 2005 game vs. Phoenix
Again, it sounds warm and fuzzy, hell, it is warm and fuzzy--until the lawyers and the accountants get involved. Paragraph 3 of Contest Rules is there to remind you just how mean the haves can be. "The retail value of the prize is $750.00. Winner's guardian is responsible for paying all costs and expenses related to the prize that are not specifically mentioned, including, but not limited to, taxes, travel, entertainment, etc."
First of all, where are they getting $750 for the value? Contest Rules do not specify whether the winner receives an authentic Baron Davis jersey or a replica (price difference: authentic $150, replica $60). Contest Rules further fail to specify whether the tickets are for courtside seats or upper level seats (price difference: VIP section row AA $550, upper level $28). And of course, there is no mention of how much time the winner gets to spend "meeting" Baron nor is there any explanation as to how they are calculating Baron's time into the $750 valuation. Finally, the winner gets only two tickets, meaning the rest of the family has to miss out on little Janie's moment in the midnight sun.
Second, and more gauling, they make sure to tell you what you're not going to get. They ain't paying for your parking, they ain't paying for a couple of dogs and some cokes at the game, they ain't paying for jack outside of the base $750 prize package.
This extremely narrow interpretation of generosity is deeply insulting when compared with the gratuitous largesse the Warriors' proudly lavish upon their corporate partners. The Warriors' pride in their corporate benevolence to the people and corporations that need it the least, is well documented on the Corporate Partners section of their website. Click through the slideshow of pictures from the preseason party in Hawaii to see pampered, spoiled rich people suckling greedily at the apparently ample Warriors' bosom and enjoying unfettered access to Warriors players. Look at the drinks, food, and complimentary gifts handed out to people who probably have a whole garage full of similar schwag. And this is the organization that can't even pony up for parking and some popcorn for the winner of the "Meet Baron Davis" essay contest?
The Warriors really know how to leave a kid and her family feeling good, don't you think?