How did you find Euro 2024? Thrilling, underwhelming, enjoyable, satisfactory, strategically captivating, or perhaps an environmental misstep? There are countless legitimate responses to that seemingly simple query. Yet, for those football enthusiasts depicted in commercials, for whom the Euros was a hectic period with promotions for televisions, betting, eyewear, eco-friendly vehicles, Scottish soft drinks, athletic apparel, vacations, grooming products, and – led by the ever-pragmatic Sir Geoff Hurst – beer, the answers tend to be more straightforward.
Television, radio, the internet, YouTube, and even our beloved magazines and newspapers feature portrayals of the football fan. You likely recognize the archetype. Typically male, although advertising experts now acknowledge the considerable female audience football attracts. Predominantly white as well, though some level of diversity has been incorporated. Beyond this modern touch, they will almost indisputably be donned in a replica jersey, their emotions reduced to a simple binary.
In the alternate reality of advertising, a football fan can only swing between exuberance and despair. Most of the time, they appear like joyful cattle, easily pleased by a buy-one-get-one-free pizza deal or a discount on holiday insurance, joining in unison as if recalling the audience laughter in Fantasy Football League whenever David Baddiel and Frank Skinner cracked a joke. Their despair emerges with defeat, typically marked by a shared moment of letdown – often coupled with some loud boos – though that too can be alleviated by a bite of that discounted pizza or a sip of quality beer. Consumed responsibly, of course.
While footballers are portrayed as near-mythical figures, impossibly attractive while they groom themselves, articulating high-performance mantras, there is no such sophistication in the depiction of supporters. If an in-depth characterization akin to Robert Altman’s cinéma vérité is unrealistic, perhaps one day advertisers will recognize that football encompasses a broad spectrum of society. Travel on a Saturday train heading to a Premier League match, and you could find yourself conversing with circuit judges in one moment, and minor offenders the next, representing all walks of life in between.
In one notably cheesy commercial for Lay’s potato crisps, David Beckham, the advertising powerhouse, and Thierry Henry, who followed up with Renault car promotions, were humorously lampooning themselves, while fans at the San Siro were utilized solely for their enthusiastic cheers.
“Henry, Beckham, and [Lionel] Messi bring immense authenticity to their endeavors, and we recognize that audiences resonate with them both on and off the pitch,” remarked Ciara Dilley, global VP of Lay’s, when the campaign launched. “All three radiate positivity, enjoyment, and happiness—all of which align with the Lay’s brand.” Despite the trio’s accomplishments, allure, and undeniable marketability, such sentiments are unlikely to be universally accepted by the fans. The advertising sphere often chooses to sidestep football’s entrenched rivalries and tribalism unless it serves to capitalize on the fervor and loyalty of supporters.
Thierry Henry (left) and David Beckham while filming their Lay’s advertisement. Photograph: Alessandro Sabattini/Getty Images
Broadcasters can be particularly prone to patronizing a generic collective while simultaneously acting against the interests of that group. Sky Sports’s 1996 advertisement, featuring a gesticulating Sean Bean with his South Yorkshire accent, encapsulated this with: “It’s ecstasy, anger, joy, and despair. It’s theatre, art, war, and love. It should be predictable but never is. We understand your feelings about football because we share them.” Fans who found themselves far from home on a Monday night due to their team’s Sky TV obligations might take issue with the latter claim, a reality that still prevails today.
Throughout the Euros, Sky launched its latest initiative for the upcoming season, Sky Sports+, a channel dedicated to extending coverage of the EFL, with heavy advertisement rotation. The ad featured a crowd performing an ensemble rendition of the power ballad “Up Where We Belong,” which quickly became an unwelcome earworm.
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Replacing Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes is a diverse yet stereotypical array of fans, each delivering a line amidst moments of passion, as the message of increased football coverage is conveyed. This new deal predicts, as per EFL documentation, “approximately five matches on Saturday afternoons and frequent slots on Friday nights and Sunday afternoons,” failing to mention the ongoing gradual demise of the traditional 3pm Saturday kick-off during the advertisement. If advertising stems from one key element: “happiness,” as Don Draper from Mad Men posits, then reality is one of the first victims, particularly for football supporters who face ticket price hikes next season across most Premier League teams – making them one of society’s most exploited consumer groups.
In light of the reported 24.2 million viewers who tuned in for the Euro 2024 final via the BBC and ITV, compared to an estimated 28.9 million voters in the UK election, it is clear that football supporters warrant far superior representation than the one-dimensional, cheering caricatures the advertising industry continues to push.
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