After Michael Phelps on Saturday in Beijing won his eighth gold medal of these Olympics, we are in the throes of his annointment as the next authentic American hero. He is not.
Great, yes. The greatest, perhaps. An authentic hero, no.
The question is begged: what business does a corporate communications and branding blogger have weighing in on the coronation of Mr. Phelps as cultural icon? The answer is that "authenticity" has become the silver-bullet marketing and communications MO of the day. (See my recent post on authenticity here.) As a result, anyone -- communications practionner or not -- who values the truly authentic has a stake in policing what is being sold as it.
Mr. Phelps' performance last week was once-in-a-generation remarkable. He is an incredibly gifted athlete with an engaging personality and a demonstrated love for his mother and sisters. But he is not an authentic hero. His is not an authentic story. Some of my fellow practionners disagree.
Cultural heroes of the kind Mr. Phelps is being made are said to selflessly represent the values of their culture. It is a stretch to believe that a professional athlete earning an estimated $5 million a year in endorsements is selflessly representing anything. This, of course, does not include the $1-million bonus he'll receive from Speedo for his eight-medal performance last week. And if you can somehow make the leap that Mr. Phelps is, in the main, motivated by altruism, than our cultural definition of selflessness has taken another hit.
In the age of the Corporate Olympics, it is really possible to have authentic, selfless heroes? Thankfully, yes: my heroes this Olympics are the members of the women's eight rowing team. My heroes earned the first U.S. gold medal in their event in 24 years by beating a Romanian team striving for its fourth straight Olympic gold medal. Michael Lee of the Washington Post on Monday reported the team's success and recalled how the team's coxswain, Mary Whipple, invited her teammates over to her house before they left for Beijing. His report continues:
"The highlight of the evening came when they watched in awe a video of the 1984 women's eight, which came from behind to defeat the favored Romanians in Lake Casitas, Calif. It was the first Olympic gold for the U.S. women's rowing team.... [Fast forward] Halfway through [this Olympic's] race [in Beijing], Whipple provided the final, rousing push when she shouted at her crew: 'This is for the 1984 girls. We've got to do them proud.'"
There will be no $1-million bonuses paid to any of the gold-medal rowing women, let alone Olympic training that was subsidized by multi-million-dollar endorsement packages. Mr. Lee's report highlights the close relationship of Ms. Whipple and one of her teammates, who worked together in the same boat for 10 years. The reward for Ms. Whipple's teammate of 10 years, Anna Cummins, at the end of these Olympics: retirement from rowing (at the age of 28) to start a small business with her husband and raise a family. Could Ms. Cummins be persuaded to come back to the team to fight for another gold? Mr. Lee's reports:
"Cummins said nothing could convince her to come back and make another run for a medal in 2012. 'I'm going to cheer the rest of these girls on,' she said with a laugh. 'I'm married. I'm going to go have kids and cheer.'"
There's an authentic, selfless hero. There's an authentic story.
So as the Olympics work their way through this week and into their close next Sunday, a real measure of Mr. Phelps' authenticity presents itself. Will he stay in Beijing this week until the end of the Olympics to participate in the closing ceremonies with his teammates from the women's eight rowing crew, whose medals are as gold as his, or will he be off to collect the $1-million check waiting for him in his North Baltimore mailbox?
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