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Did you see the photo Lance Armstrong posted on Twitter? The great man lounging in his trophy room with a collection of yellow jerseys, quite possibly the closest things he has to friends right now.
This gesture was guaranteed to evoke all manner of reactions, depending on your point of view, traversing treacherous precipices between steadfast deviance and outrageous arrogance.
One emotion emphatically absent from this picture was regret. A man on the verge of a tear stained mea culpa does not post a photo like this.
If Lance is being slowly crushed by the weight of deceit he’s doing an exceptionally good job concealing it. No doubt he’s tough enough to bear the pain.
Yet, given the chutzpah of his latest gesture, another explanation appears more likely.
He just doesn’t care.
All of which may pose an interesting challenge to Lance’s public relations advisers. What strategies is Team Lance currently considering?
Presumably New York’s Madison Avenue is being paid a fortune to re-brand the unbrandable. He’s not just going to slip into the sunset is he?
Proceeding from the assumption that an emotional heartfelt apology ain’t going to happen, we draw on history to speculate as to some possible approaches.
Tiger Style
This is the apology you make when you’re not making an apology. It’s utilised for brands caught red handed.
The brand is forced to apologise for acts it can no longer feasibly deny and does not really regret.
The brand wears intentionally ill-fitting clothes in an effort to appear humble and contrite.
The brand invites its mother to a globally televised apology.
Like idiots we all watch.
Ultimately the apology is perfunctory and unsatisfactory. The brand looks like it would rather be somewhere else doing whatever it did to become red handed.
The OJ
This brand defence, rarely used, requires the brand to put its fingers into its ears and hum very loudly for a very long time, on a deserted golf course somewhere in Florida.
The idea is that the brand will live long enough for the rest of the world to forget and will then make a glorious re-entry into mainstream society.
The Diego
The brand melts down over a decade.
It courts the media by shooting at it from its garden. It ventures into politics, forms unlikely alliances with South American dictators and blames the CIA for nearly everything. It survives several alcohol induced near death experiences.
Eventually, it becomes a parody of itself. Somehow, albeit flabby and loose, the brand endures and flourishes.
The Tomic
When the brand has its head well and truly wedged in its digestive passages the PR masters unveils the last resort.
This is the painfully drafted lawyer’s statement recited verbatim by a clearly disinterested brand. The PR master knows nobody is going to buy it but at least he or she can blame it on the lawyer.
“Wherever you stand on Lance Armstrong you will find More Than Just a Game’s interview with Dr. Michael Ashenden (from the Science and Industry Against Blood Doping Research Consortium) fascinating. Hear it and more fascinating analysis of game of the park right here: http://blogs.abc.net.au/grandstand/more-than-just-a-game/”
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