Something called Crypto.com bought an arena's naming rights this week from an office supply company, and now folks in Los Angeles are bemoaning the passing of the office supply company name.
I find this fascinating.
On the one hand, I get that the Staples Center, across 22 years, has seen a whole lot of memorable stuff happen, like Shaq and Kobe and then Kobe and whoever. I also get that, as a consequence, a lot of people will continue to say "I'm goin' to Staples tonight" even after it becomes Crypto.com Arena.
This is perfectly OK with the Blob, especially because I have no idea what Crypto.com actually is, other than a website where you can invest in virtual money (however that works). I envision stacks of Monopoly money strewn around the site, although that's probably not what the virtual money looks like (if it looks like anything).
In any case, what I find fascinating about all this is how people can become attached to even soulless corporate branding if it's tied to a particular set of memories or experiences. It becomes "iconic," even if corporate branding is exactly the opposite for the most part.
A Comiskey Park or Jacobs Field or Lambeau Field is iconic, on the other hand, because they were all named for breathing humans who were iconic. You can change Comiskey to Guaranteed Rate Field or Jacobs Field to Progressive Field, but they're always going to be Comiskey or the Jake in the hearts and minds of the faithful.
The corporate suits who've absconded with those names hate that, of course, because they didn't shell out millions for the naming rights so people could ignore the name, no matter how silly. (And let's face it, "Guaranteed Rate Field" is about as silly as it gets unless the Yum Center in Louisville enters the conversation.) They also hate it when people start calling, say, Lucas Oil Stadium "The Luke," even going so far as to send out sternly worded warnings against it.
As if that's gonna stop anyone. The suits know it, and they hate that, too.
In any event, the worst thing about corporations slapping their names on sporting venues is that, by their very nature, they're transitory. Thus Conseco Fieldhouse in Indy becomes Bankers Life Fieldhouse becomes, now, Gainbridge Fieldhouse.
Somewhere down the road, of course, it will become something else. All Indy can hope for is it's not something as dumb as Guaranteed Rate Field, like Butterfinger Fieldhouse or the Craftsman Weedwacker String Trimmer & Blower Combo Kit Center.
And God help us all if the crazy MyPillow guy takes a shine to the facility. Yikes.
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