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The era of Tiger and the Buick tri-shield is officially over. Like most divorces, it wasn't only about the money. I remember back in '99 when we had the initial discussions with Mark Steinberg at the NEC in Akron, we wondered even then if the relationship would sell a single car. Would anyone believe a young, wealthy, famous black athlete would be caught dead in a Park Avenue unless he actually was dead and the Park Avenue was a hearse?
At the time Buick was the official car of the PGA Tour, the title sponsor of four Tour events and the official car of the World Golf Championships. It was safe to say that in the automotive category, Buick owned golf. The deal with Tiger was the final jewel in the crown. After the initial euphoria wore off, however, the business end of the deal had to be executed in some way that would support the brand and ultimately sell cars. And that's where the struggle really began.
The advertising agency of record at the time was McCann Erickson and they had to come up with a plan to use Tiger in a way that would make sense to not only the existing customer base but that would create new, younger buyers as well. Buick wanted to get on the "maybe" lists of people who previously wouldn't have dreamed of owning one.
The first conclusion they came to was that Tiger shouldn't be a spokesman for a specific model. It would be better to simply make the connection between Tiger, Buick and golf. That was easier said than done and people in and outside the company began to level criticism at the campaign. But the real problem wasn't Tiger, it was the Buick lineup of vehicles — they were boring and staid and no matter how the agency tried, they couldn't make the fit work. GM was working on a more modern vehicle mix for Buick to attract younger buyers, but the new designs were still a few years away from the showroom floor.
The Buick folks still seemed to think that the relationship had value even if it wasn't easy to pinpoint how many cars were sold due to Tiger. After all, just seeing Tiger's caddy carrying that bag around with the big tri-shield and BUICK down the side and strap had some recognition value. Whenever Tiger was in contention on the weekend, the TV ratings went through the roof and that meant millions of new eyes seeing the logo. Although no one could accurately quantify what that was worth, the general sense was that the association with the world's most recognized athlete was invaluable. So in 2004, Buick reenlisted for another five years.
The fact that the contract will be terminated a year early is more a reflection of GM's overall financial condition than anything related to the value of the arrangement. GM senior management didn't want to lose Tiger, but let's face it, if you're going to the government asking for a huge loan because you're running out of money, it's probably a good idea to shed expensive promotional platforms and leave the Gulfstream in the hangar.
Buick and Tiger have both benefited from their relationship. From Buick's perspective, I'm not sure Tiger moved a lot of metal off the lots, but the association validated their dominance of U.S. professional golf. For Tiger, the ad campaigns and added exposure cemented him as an endorsement star and they connected him to a distinctively home grown list of companies: Accenture, American Express, Gillette and yes, even Buick, that old man's car. Over the last few years, Buick's demographics have steadily skewed younger. It's hard to say whether Tiger's presence influenced the designers to build cars that younger buyers want or those buyers are moving to Buick because of Tiger. I suspect it's a little of both.
