Progressive when it was unpopular: What every brand can learn from Katharine Hepburn.
By Charley Arrigo
Prologue.
....
Introduction.
....
He wasn't the first.
When Charles Barkley made the jump from professional basketball superstar to professional basketball analyst who gave his honest-to-God opinions on professional basketball superstars, he wasn't breaking boundaries.
Not by any means.
Three of the most charismatic personalities of Professional Basketball's Golden Age during the 1980s beat him to the punch.
Magic Johnson, Julius "The Doctor" Irving, and Isiah Thomas.
They were Charles Barkley before Charles Barkley. Well, not exactly.
But they made the crossover from mega NBA superstar to media personality while the former was still lacing up his Nike's and pulling down twenty rebounds in pursuit of his first Larry O'Brien Championship Trophy.
Unlike Charles Barkley, all three had championships.
And when a competitive athlete accomplishes all they possibly can in a given arena, they either move on or hold on until they age out.
Then they look for the next challenge.
But for Magic, The Doctor and Isiah that challenge came and went.
At the time, when the NBC Network hired all three icons at different intervals
during the 1990s for their famed NBA on NBC lineup, the move seemed like a win-win.
What fans wouldn't want the Beatles of Basketball to stay in their lives and offer basketball insight?
Well...
Magic lasted two years with NBC, The Doctor four, and Isiah two.
It's not that they were bad. They were just never great.
And for anyone who's ever reached the highest summit of the highest mountain, that pill is hard to swallow.
On paper, Magic, The Doctor and Isiah had the makings of TV darlings.
They had charisma, confidence and charm. They had rabid fanfare and the coveted championship pedigree.
They had "the brand."
They also knew how to play the game. And the game of media personality had a different set a rules than that game played on the hardwood.
They knew when to toe the line. And they knew how to toe it.
There's was what you wanted to say—versus what could be said.
Some call it politics. And that line was the line neither Magic, The Doctor or Isiah ever had the desire to cross.
Maybe their brand was the wrong brand.
Charles Barkley aged out.
That would've been fine.
After all, The Doctor aged out. Isiah aged out. And Magic got sick and chose to retire.
That would've been fine.
But see—Charles Barkley—never did win that championship. And in this game, where greatness is judged by a golden ring, not everyone is gonna leave happy.
That's when finding another summit to climb becomes more of a necessity.
Rather than one last lap around the track to keep the old show pony's legs from going lame, as old ladies in big hats clap their hands for good measure.
So on Halloween night 2000, leaving the mask and costume at home,
bringing the kind of risk only to be found at those Las Vegas Blackjack tables he so frequented, Charles Barkley joined Inside the NBA.
But risk there was.
Because there was one thing that made Charles Barkley so decidingly different from so many of his era's counterparts, even his Airness, Michael Jordan himself.
Jordan was an on-the-court psychopath. That's well documented. Enemies, even teammates who he used to bury six feet beneath the ground, consider him the game's most ruthless trash talker.
But when Jordan walked off the basketball court—Jordan could turn it off.
And he would turn it off.
When Charles Barkley walked off the basketball court—Charles Barkley wouldn't turn it off.
Because Charles Barkley couldn't turn it off.
The man was a walking, talking atomic bomb.
"I am not a role model."
"I am not a role model... Just because I dunk a basketball doesn't mean I should raise your kids."
In 1993, Nike shit their pants when Charles Barkley came to them wanting to do the "I'm not a role model" concept for his next Nike Air commercial.
Charles Barkley saw himself as too influential among black kids growing up in America.
Michael Jordan was doing his Nike commercials with the King of Pop, Michael Jackson, dancing and laughing and racking in millions.
Nike was killing it.
But Charles Barkley was pissed off.
When he'd visit schools to speak about education, he didn't like the answer he'd get when he asked, "what do you wanna be when you grow up?"
"We got too many black kids that think they can only be successful through athletics and entertainment; they don't think they can be doctors and lawyers and engineers and shit like that."
Despite Nike's pushback, the company said that 90 percent of the letters they received on the commercial were positive.
And the greater social message behind it, has since inspired Nike's beyond-the-sneaker approach to its iconic advertising (i.e. 2018's Colin Kaepernick, Dream Crazy ad, being the best example).
But when a fan once asked, "If you're not trying to be a role model why do you do these commercials?"
Charles Barkley replied, "Because they pay me a lot of money."
It was this polarizing touch at such human moments, that makes the man so confusing. And while so many public figures become polarizing for different reasons, Charles Barkley is the definition of an enigma.
He's a man who once toyed with the idea of running for the governor of Alabama as a Republican candidate.
He was also the man who went viral buying beer for patrons at a Lake Tahoe bar, while going into a tirade against 'rednecks' and 'assholes' for hating on trans people and launching the Anti-Bud Light boycott.
Charles Barkley wasn't afraid.
He wasn't afraid of being cancelled. And he wasn't afraid of aligning his views with either the Left or Right.
Charles Barkley was Charles Barkley.
He didn't ask for your permission. And he didn't ask for your acceptance. He just asked that you pass the mic.
"How long are you going to be here?"
When Charles Barkley took the job at Inside the NBA, Ernie Johnson, the program's longtime studio host asked him a question.
"How long are you going to be here?"
Charles Barkley replied, "Three years, and I'm gonna move on to bigger and better things."
But unlike Magic, The Doctor and Isiah, 24 years came and went. And with Charles Barkley to blame, Inside the NBA just kept getting bigger and better.
Trading conventionial X's and O's sports talk for bold, sometimes controversial banter, the show has rode its unscripted ingenuity to 19 Emmy Awards.
When I talk to clients about Charles Barkley, I like to say that the attraction behind the man is that he represents all of us.
Charles Barkley is everyone who ever had something to say.
He's everyone who is still haunted by all the things they should've said and should've done that one time in our lives.
Those of us who still bite our tongue.
Those who make the mistake of choosing comfort by way of conformity. Instead of accepting the bumps and bruises that someone earns when they become known as "polarizing."
The kind of people who build audiences because people know they actually have something to say.
And because they're the kind of people who are not afraid to lose, whether that be respect or popularity, because when they talk, they talk because they believe in something not because they need something from somebody.
And while some of us are still working on getting to this point, and revealing the single most important part of ourselves or brand in its fully naked truth—
we've seen three Charles Barkley's.
From NBA Superstar, to Can't Miss TV Analyst, to The Generational Icon We Can No Longer Live Without.
He's never changed. And he never will.
You can say all you want about Charles Barkley.
But he's probably already said it. And it probably wouldn't matter anyhow.
Because Charles Barkley doesn't give a damn what you think, and he has too many more lives to live.
Just like the Old English Proverb says...
A cat has nine lives. For three he plays, for three he strays and for the last three he stays."
