Post by Scott on May 30, 2006 13:48:17 GMT
From The Guardian:
The World Cup is an engrossing display of skill, ingenuity, fallibility. It is also a huge economic enterprise. This year's final will be watched in 189 countries by more people than any other sporting contest in history.In an era of media fragmentation, Fifa can offer businesses an unrivalled global platform.
It's estimated that $1bn will be spent on World Cup-related advertising, boosting annual ad revenues by a full percentage point. The Centre for Economics and Business Research claims that as a result of the tournament £1.25bn could be pumped into the UK economy. In Japan, predictions are even more extravagant, with talk that overall spending will increase by $4bn. Even in countries not represented in Germany there will be massive interest. Football is expected to account for more than half the marketing activity before and during the event in China, Bolivia, Chile, Hungary, Thailand and Venezuela.
In India, football's toehold is relatively weak - the final will attract a smaller audience than a major cricket match. Yet the price of a 10-second advertising slot will be the same because football enables advertisers to reach a target market: young urban males among whom the game has become fashionable. However, in Bangladesh (as in neighbouring West Bengal) football has deeper roots, and millions will passionately support Brazil, which has become a kind of proxy side for Bengalis.
Unlike India, Bangladesh or China, the US does have a team in the World Cup, yet the event will generate less interest there than almost anywhere else. In 2002, only 3.9 million Americans tuned in to the final, compared with the 95 million who watched the Super Bowl. None the less, there is a burgeoning audience among the US's 42 million strong Hispanic population. Significantly, even in the US Nike sells more Mexico than USA replica shirts.
Despite the indifference of the bulk of their domestic market, US corporations have made a substantial investment in the cup. Coca-Cola, Gillette, Mastercard, Yahoo, McDonald's and Budweiser have each forked out $40-60m for an official sponsorship. Bud is cheerfully exploiting the popular image of US footballing ignorance with its strapline: "You do the football, we'll do the beer."
"Brand clutter" is a source of bewilderment for punters and anxiety for advertisers, especially for official sponsors who fear it devalues their direct investment. Fifa has been aggressive in its efforts to eradicate "ambush marketing", pressing governments to pass legislation protecting the exclusive use not only of trademarked names but also of "associated" words and symbols. Thus, the sheer scale of investment threatens freedom of expression and leads in effect to the privatisation of a public asset.
A recent report from Oxfam - Offside! Labour Rights and Sportswear Production in Asia - reminds us that while Nike pays $16m a year to the Brazilian team, the mostly female Asian workers who make the gear are paid as little as £2.50 a day. Those who seek to unionise face dismissal. An Adidas supplier in Indonesia, where workers receive 60 cents an hour, recently sacked 30 union members who took part in a legal pay strike.
The economics and demographics of the World Cup suggest that globalisation is less a uniform wave than an irregular maelstrom. Capital and labour flow at different rates in different directions, as do images and ideas. Paradoxically, globalisation turns national identity into a prize commodity. Corporate and media interests in this country will seek to channel emotion (and spending) into support for the England team. Great numbers will follow the event not because they love football but because they have been persuaded that England's World Cup run is important to them. Inevitably, political forces will seek to exploit that heavily hyped attachment.
One of the things that makes the World Cup compelling, sometimes disturbing, is the way the fundamentally trivial, harmless realm of sport (where accident and idiosyncrasy reign) acquires an aura of immense consequence. The pointlessly beautiful (beautifully pointless) game seems burdened with a vast weight of financial, cultural, political import. The amazing thing is that it somehow survives.
The World Cup is an engrossing display of skill, ingenuity, fallibility. It is also a huge economic enterprise. This year's final will be watched in 189 countries by more people than any other sporting contest in history.In an era of media fragmentation, Fifa can offer businesses an unrivalled global platform.
It's estimated that $1bn will be spent on World Cup-related advertising, boosting annual ad revenues by a full percentage point. The Centre for Economics and Business Research claims that as a result of the tournament £1.25bn could be pumped into the UK economy. In Japan, predictions are even more extravagant, with talk that overall spending will increase by $4bn. Even in countries not represented in Germany there will be massive interest. Football is expected to account for more than half the marketing activity before and during the event in China, Bolivia, Chile, Hungary, Thailand and Venezuela.
In India, football's toehold is relatively weak - the final will attract a smaller audience than a major cricket match. Yet the price of a 10-second advertising slot will be the same because football enables advertisers to reach a target market: young urban males among whom the game has become fashionable. However, in Bangladesh (as in neighbouring West Bengal) football has deeper roots, and millions will passionately support Brazil, which has become a kind of proxy side for Bengalis.
Unlike India, Bangladesh or China, the US does have a team in the World Cup, yet the event will generate less interest there than almost anywhere else. In 2002, only 3.9 million Americans tuned in to the final, compared with the 95 million who watched the Super Bowl. None the less, there is a burgeoning audience among the US's 42 million strong Hispanic population. Significantly, even in the US Nike sells more Mexico than USA replica shirts.
Despite the indifference of the bulk of their domestic market, US corporations have made a substantial investment in the cup. Coca-Cola, Gillette, Mastercard, Yahoo, McDonald's and Budweiser have each forked out $40-60m for an official sponsorship. Bud is cheerfully exploiting the popular image of US footballing ignorance with its strapline: "You do the football, we'll do the beer."
"Brand clutter" is a source of bewilderment for punters and anxiety for advertisers, especially for official sponsors who fear it devalues their direct investment. Fifa has been aggressive in its efforts to eradicate "ambush marketing", pressing governments to pass legislation protecting the exclusive use not only of trademarked names but also of "associated" words and symbols. Thus, the sheer scale of investment threatens freedom of expression and leads in effect to the privatisation of a public asset.
A recent report from Oxfam - Offside! Labour Rights and Sportswear Production in Asia - reminds us that while Nike pays $16m a year to the Brazilian team, the mostly female Asian workers who make the gear are paid as little as £2.50 a day. Those who seek to unionise face dismissal. An Adidas supplier in Indonesia, where workers receive 60 cents an hour, recently sacked 30 union members who took part in a legal pay strike.
The economics and demographics of the World Cup suggest that globalisation is less a uniform wave than an irregular maelstrom. Capital and labour flow at different rates in different directions, as do images and ideas. Paradoxically, globalisation turns national identity into a prize commodity. Corporate and media interests in this country will seek to channel emotion (and spending) into support for the England team. Great numbers will follow the event not because they love football but because they have been persuaded that England's World Cup run is important to them. Inevitably, political forces will seek to exploit that heavily hyped attachment.
One of the things that makes the World Cup compelling, sometimes disturbing, is the way the fundamentally trivial, harmless realm of sport (where accident and idiosyncrasy reign) acquires an aura of immense consequence. The pointlessly beautiful (beautifully pointless) game seems burdened with a vast weight of financial, cultural, political import. The amazing thing is that it somehow survives.
