A Storied Perspective – Bill Baker's Blog

As we approach the start of a new year and with it the traditional practice of making resolutions, I thought it might be helpful to reprint a post I did last year on the subject of setting personal goals. Enjoy.

At the start of every January, amidst the dark days of my annual sugar, butter and alcohol withdrawal, I write out my personal goals for the New Year. I started doing this several years ago when I was struck by the irony that, although I help others think strategically about their brands and businesses, I hadn’t really thought strategically about my own life. Strategic storyteller, heal thyself.

A lot of people tackle this sort of thing by establishing New Year’s resolutions, looking at the year ahead and identifying what they want to stop or start doing. While this is certainly a valiant endeavor, in many respects these resolutions become a glorified “To Do” list. What’s more, a lot of resolutions have a negative, depriving nature to them – e.g. lose 12 pounds, finally stop watching “America’s Next Top Model,” give up drinking on Sundays – which makes them feel Lenten and uninspiring.

New Year’s resolutions are different than personal goals. I’ve got nothing against New Year’s resolutions, but for most of us they just become promises to ourselves that we break. They’re often mired in the past or present, not forward thinking; and they tend to focus on actions, not achievements and the hopes and desires that fuel them. In contrast, personal goals focus on results. They reflect a situation that has yet to transpire and are therefore, by nature, future-oriented. And because they are future-oriented, they tend to be conceived in a positive light…because who really wants to think negatively about the future when setting goals?

I like to establish my personal goals for the next year by projecting myself mentally and emotionally into the future. I visualize myself on the next New Year’s Eve, savouring my last butter tart, sipping that last, precious glass of champagne, looking back on the year and reminiscing about the things I’ve accomplished. I literally envision myself in that place and time, imagining how I want to think and feel about the year that’s just passed. I think about the stories I want to be telling others – e.g. about how I learned jazz piano, secured three major new clients, took a trip to South America, read one of the classics. I imagine all these things from the future, and then I write them down. And I read them, out loud, at the start of each week (admittedly, sometimes in the mirror).

When you’re looking down the road at a brand-spanking-new year for you personally, don’t look at it from the perspective of January 1st; leap forward and look back on it from December 31st. I think you’ll be more inspired and motivated by the view from there.

Madonna is back. With the recent announcement that the once-reigning Queen of Pop will headline the Super Bowl XLVI halftime show, Madonna is, once again, “back,” exactly as she likes to be, reemerging intuitively onto the scene just before we are about to forget about her. She is like musical kudzu. You can’t keep that woman down.

My genuine admiration for Madge aside, I was struck by all the hoopla that surrounded the announcement of her performing at this season’s Super Bowl. To be clear, it is a coup for any artist to get this gig, and Madonna will be in good company with The Rolling Stones, Black Eyed Peas, Justin Timberlake, Janet, Janet’s breast, etc. I just hope that someone has told her she’s going to have to sing live.

However, amid all the talk about the halftime show, the commercials, how much they cost to air and who will be singing the National Anthem, I have to wonder, “What about the game?”

I can’t help but feel that the Super Bowl brand has lost its story as it becomes increasingly disconnected from the great American sport it is meant to celebrate. Don’t get me wrong, I understand that the Super Bowl is both ritual and hallowed event for hundreds of millions of football fans: as well it should be. It gives us an opportunity to come together and cheer for something on a Sunday afternoon, paint our faces and eat things that aren’t good for us. And I know that true football fans care deeply about the game that’s buried in there, somewhere, beneath all the show business and spectacle. But the brand of the Super Bowl—the current story of the Super Bowl—has become out-of-step with the grit and determination of the game it represents as well as what true football fans love most about it.

Ask 100 people on the street to tell you a story about the Super Bowl, and I bet the majority of them would talk first about the glitzy, “corporate-fest” this sporting event has become—e.g. the commercials, the show, the performers, etc. And yes, I’m certain some would mention football at some point. But only a few would talk about the Super Bowl as the championship game at the end of a tough playoff series at the end of a long and demanding season. I bet only a few would talk about the Vince Lombardi Trophy that’s won. These things have almost become an afterthought.

In contrast, the stories of the World Series and Stanley Cup Playoffs still feel very connected to their sports. During the Stanley Cup Playoffs I wrote a blog post about this; specifically about how, despite all the spectacle surrounding professional sports, the Stanley Cup remains genuine, authentic and very true to its fans. You see, the Stanley Cup is both an event—the playoffs—and an icon—a trophy that signifies excellence, tenacity and a long, hard road that has just been won. In contrast, the Super Bowl has really become an event and little more. A very big event, to be sure; but still, just an event.

I respect that the NFL has to make money with the Super Bowl and that there has always been a degree of splash and spectacle in professional football. But after this year’s event is behind us, the glitter dust has settled and we’ve wiped the paint from our faces, I would encourage the NFL to take a couple steps back and look at what the Super Bowl has become and try to remember what it used to be. Perhaps they can pull it back a bit towards its roots, reconnecting it to the game. Football fans deserve a story like that.

Over the past year, I have had the pleasure of working David Baker of ReCourses. David specializes in providing counsel and guidance exclusively to marketing firms and has worked with hundreds of small to mid-size agencies around the world. He is a great listener, an insightful coach and a damn good photographer, which I suppose has little to do with him being a good listener or coach, but still warrants a mention. I have one of his pieces hanging in my apartment. But I digress…

Throughout his professional travels, David has been hearing more and more about storytelling; and the more he heard, the more he began to suspect that a lot of people were misusing the term. Accordingly, he asked if I would write a guest blog post on the subject, and I was honoured and flattered to oblige. In this post, the distinction I draw is around the difference between storytelling and strategic storytelling as we practice it at BB&Co. The former often involves telling any ol’ story, where as the latter involves finding, crafting and telling the right story.

You can read the post by clicking here. Enjoy and join the discussion if you feel so inclined. And thank you, David, for the opportunity to be heard and set the record straight.

Ever since the Canucks lost the Stanley Cup to the Bruins (fair and square, I might add) and downtown Vancouver quickly found itself in the throws of a riot, many people have asked me if the starry-eyed thoughts and sentiments expressed in my post two days ago still hold true with me today. They do.

Make no mistake, watching a bunch of meat-heads transform a communal celebration into a shameful spectacle made me question whether Vancouver or its hockey team really deserved to win the Stanley Cup: ever. But as the smoke and crowds dissipated, it became clear that this riot was the result of a fringe group of people Hell-bent on causing trouble regardless of the outcome of the game. While those jack-asses are an unfortunate part of our community—and we, therefore, must accept some responsibility for them—they do not represent it. And when on the following day several hundred people took to the streets with brooms and several thousand took to the Internet with visual evidence and tips for the police, it confirmed for me how much the integrity and fellowship of the Stanley Cup mean to people. It’s something worth preserving and protecting, as are the reputation of our city and the honour of our hockey team.

It still makes me sad that this riot may be what lingers in the hearts of our citizens and in the memories of the world, rather than the stories and recollections of the incredible journey the Canucks undertook to reach that Stanley Cup Final. No matter. We’ll get over it…and hopefully next year, we’ll get another chance.