Some of you might wonder why you haven't heard much from your Florida Marlins lately. Well, first off, I've been extremely busy -- you know how it is when you move. Getting everything switched over to your name, waiting for the cable guy, dealing with our bald, creepy new landlord, things like that.
These headaches aside, I know that some of you might find our soft opening a tad off-putting. Like the fact that until now, we had not run any advertisements: no print ads, no TV or radio spots, no billboards, no bus benches, no nothing. You're probably saying to yourself, "Jeez, even that pencil-neck Yankees fan John Henry had a marketing plan."
So, what are we doing? As we confront an untenable stadium deal, no possibility of a new publicly funded facility, and a fan base that is angry, apathetic, and dwindling fast, what is our response? As I told the Herald's John Dorschner on March 18:
"I don't have a plan right now."
There you have it. That's my plan: the absence of a plan. It's kinda Dadaist, actually. (Those few of you who know who Marcel Duchamp is, know what I'm talking about.) No ads, no lobbying for a stadium deal, no hype, no zany giveaways or in-game promotions. Just baseball.
So feel free to come on down to the ballpark and witness the beauty of minimalist marketing: Thanks to our lack of community outreach, there will be plenty of good seats available to the truly dedicated fan. And if you feel like buying any souvenirs, go right ahead. (Just today, we found a bag full of Gary Sheffield bobble-head dolls behind a file cabinet.) As a collector of 20th-century art and other relics, I can unequivocally say that all Florida Marlins material will be highly sought-after by baseball memorabilia collectors soon -- very, very soon.