Wild Pitching! Excessive or Aggressive, Some Sales Tactics Are Just Stupid

When the Washington Nationals played the Houston Astros on Monday, September 20th 2010, not one player was hit by a pitch. But fans were pounded. Photographers armed with digital cameras roamed the stadium and pitched hard for a share of the fan wallet. $17.99 for a photo? Just add it to the $43.29 for a ticket (ninth highest average in Major League Baseball), $25.00 for parking, $7.00 for a beer, and $5.00 for a pretzel. The Lerner family, principal owner of the Nationals, has elevated separating fans from their money to near-art form. If they were as talented at producing a winning team, the Nationals would be World Series champions–but I would settle for a record over .500.

To guests—as stadium-going fans are called—this quest for revenue seems maniacal. Within two minutes of entering Nationals Park, five photographers approached my son and me asking to take our photo. The stalking continued in the stands, prompting the father-son pair behind us to say “yeah, they asked us seven times. It’s ridiculous.” Who would want that conversation about their company? When does selling become excessive? When you think about sales as a “numbers game.” It’s poisoning because great customer experience is lost in the equation.

22,600. Ask a Nationals revenue analyst about that number, and he or she will tell you that it’s the team’s average attendance this year. If just five percent of fans buy a photo, every home game generates over $20,000 in revenue to gorge the bottom line. Burp! Profit is spelled d-i-g-i-t-a-l p-h-o-t-o-s. There’s no inventory to carry, no space to commit. Camera shutters make an audible ka-ching at Nationals Park!

Driven by backroom calculus that the more you pitch the more you get, Nationals' management revels while fans seethe. Business yin and yang. Anyone who has walked past the Nationals Stadium front-entrance paparazzi understands what I mean. But the point of return for wild pitching diminishes rapidly. Just ask a guest. What Part of ‘No’ Don’t You Understand?

Following the Astros game, I couldn’t resist the temptation to talk with someone about the questionable wisdom of this high-pressure hawking. So I contacted Printroom, the company that operates this concession.

My email:

“I visited the Nationals game vs. Houston on Monday night, 9/20. I am writing an article about my experience at Nationals Park, and wanted to include FanFoto in my discussion. The questions I have would best be answered by your VP of sales, or Director/VP of Marketing . . .”

Printroom's response:

“Andrew, You'll need to contact the photographer for an answer to your question. You can usually find the photographer's contact information on their homepage. Sorry we couldn't be of more assistance. Did I answer your question(s) completely or address your concerns thoroughly? If not, please let me know right away.”

I let the representative know right away, but no reply. Maybe she’s still working on it.

So, do I have this correct: Behind the veil of a sports team, an outsourced company deploys a sales force to engage in the arguably-intrusive activity of capturing my image in a photo and posting it online, while being purposely enigmatic? That’s creepy—and it’s not even Halloween!

Pursuit-of-the-almighty-dollar myopia reduces the fan experience. That myopia infects companies in many other industries. According to McKinsey Survey (December, 2009), 35% of respondents identified “too much contact” as the most destructive selling behavior. Could the disdain for too much contact really be an objection to the wrong contact. After all, if sales contact is valuable, respectful, and engaging, it’s hard to have too much of it. Printroom’s tactics violated all of these. Three strikes, you’re out!

Oh, before I forget—if you want to see the photo of my son and me at the ballgame, click here.