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Until Saturday night I had no idea of the racially fueled flareup that was occurring at the University of Missouri. In fact neither did much of the United States or the Western World.

I had no idea that the head of the Student Government had been verbally assaulted with racial taunts from some people in a pickup truck on campus. I had no idea that a swastika made from human feces had been drawn on a residence wall. I had no idea that a drunken white student had crashed a black student group’s homecoming preparations and insulted them using every word imaginable. I had no idea the university President laughed at black students from his car during a protest. I had no idea that the offer to introduce new anti-racism measures on campus and hire more black faculty was suggested by the school’s Chancellor to begin in 2016, as a means to end one protester’s hunger strike…

Did you?

If you did it was probably only after one of the most powerful student groups on campus decided to get involved. Was it the Agribusiness Club? Delta Alpha Pi? The Masters of Business Administration Association? The College Democrats? The College Republicans? The Journalism Student Council? The Economics Undergraduate Student Association? No.

It was the Missouri Tigers Football Team. More specifically the African Americans on the team. Saturday night they issued a strike ultimatum. If the school President and Chancellor did not step down, they were not going to practice, prepare, or play for the school. Less than forty-eight hours later they had won. The President, and the Chancellor, agreed to resign. That’s some fierce blitz those players threw.

Just like that.

What protests couldn’t do. What tent cities couldn’t accomplish. What emails and social posts failed to achieve. What even a hunger strike couldn’t muster, the athletes could. Because they, in this era of influencers ruling the world, knew they were influencers. They knew they had profile. They knew they had clout. They knew they had financial impact. They also knew they had their coach. He had to support them or he could say goodbye to recruiting a black athlete ever again. They knew their school faced a $1 million fine for forfeiting their next game. They knew that no football would get the alumni out of bed.

Part of me is elated. The protest had won due to this game changing threat. The bad guys, or alleged bad guys, are gone. Finally I witnessed athletes with a lot to lose, risking everything for their fellow students. It’s amazing.

Part of me is sad. I can’t believe that in 2015 an institution of higher learning, of all places, can be the scene of such backward thinking. Worse yet that it can be led by a tone deaf President who is empowered with the safety, well-being, and education of 36,000 children. I say children, because that’s what they are. Somebody’s child. You send your offspring to university and expect this man, or woman, at the top to look after them like you have.

Instead, at the University of Missouri, it took the football team to protect them.

How amazing was it to have one more hour in your Sunday this past weekend?

Did you remember you were going to be the recipient of this magical gift when you opened your eyes in the morning? Did you roll over and delight that your wish to sleep just a little longer wasn’t going to cost you any lost minutes? Or did you spring for the hardwood in anticipation of how much extra weekend work you could power through?

One day a year I love Daylight Savings Time.

The rest of the year I don’t get it. It seems like a concept that has past its best before date. Surely as our society has transformed from an agriculturally based economy to an app based one, the need to provide farmers with extra daylight in the morning has evaporated. You’ll agree wholeheartedly with me this week, when that demotivating shower of darkness hits you leaving the office. But on Sunday, that extra hour is a coveted treat.

How many times have you said to yourself how great it would be to have an extra hour. Just one more hour. When you’ve slept in. You’re caught in traffic. Prepping for a major presentation. Racing to the airport. The 25 hour day is not just the dream of the procrastinator. Very few of us would turn it down.

I often say the same to myself. Why did I sleep in. Why did I stay up so late watching movies. Why didn’t I come home earlier from that event. There are so many times when you realize you wasted an hour. An hour that probably wasn’t as valued as it should have been until it’s gone.

So how did you spend your extra hour this weekend? Did you do something that made it worthwhile.  Or did you waste it.

I wonder what we would do if we were granted an extra hour, every day, for the rest of our lives. Think about that.

Would you sleep longer.
Would you exercise.
Would you work overtime.
Would you read.
Perhaps you would write that book.
Or at least a few letters.
Started those French lessons.
Those cooking classes.
That forgotten wine tasting course.
Finished those piano lessons.
Pick up a guitar.
Visited your parents.
Played with your kids.
Volunteered.
Donated.
Rehabilitated.
Meditated.
Talk with a friend.
Make a few new ones.
Visit with some old.
Cleaned your attic.
Build a shed.

It’s amazing the good for you things that seem so attainable if we had these magical minutes.Yet, you lament that getting going on many of these ideas is just a dream. There never will be time to get fit. To read. To eat well. Sleep better. Live longer.

But that hour is already here. We were given it the day we were born and we will posessss it until the day we die. It’s just that often we squander it. Waste it. Lose it in the never land of good intentions.

But it’s out there. We just have to seize it. Pick it. Protect it. We can take that hour, to do want we dream of. Everyday. Whether it’s chasing a promotion at work, a new personal hobby, or a commitment to others.

One More Hour. It’s here every day. Just don’t wait another year for it to come.

In the two seconds between the ball leaving Josh Donaldson’s bat, and the first base umpire signalling that would be the Blue Jay’s final out of 2015, I had emphatically killed my TV and threw the remote across the room in one violent motion.

My actions joined a collective anguished scream of thirty million Canadians expressing their agony. The thrilling ride of the Blue Jays World Series quest was over.

I was so crushed I rudely couldn’t make small talk about it come Saturday. Wasn’t interested in analyzing poor coaching strategy, misplayed bunts, and costly defensive decisions. I was neck deep in the unwritten sports rule of a twenty-four hour limit for mourning a loss. Two days later my dark cloud of despair is slowly, very slowly, lifting and allowing for more mature reflective thinking to permeate my thoughts.

As Jays media pundits, sports insiders, and fans began to combine their dissection of what went wrong with speculation about next year, they will all come back to one common denominator. Talent. Who will be around in 2016? Who were the key contributors in 2015? How much was our success the result of the core team built in spring training? Or should all the accolades go to the trading deadline arrivals who seemingly sparked the marvelous run to glory? No matter what side of this debate you fall on, there is no question of the foundation of the debate. Talent wins.

You don’t have to look much further than the Jays or our recent federal election to see the impact of talent on almost any type of organization. As the Tories point accusatory fingers at one another for their historic collapse, the critiques of their campaign management braintrust are almost as loud as the kudos directed to the Liberal backroomers. In overly simplistic terms this election will be regarded as a textbook case where (apparently) one group of very smart people was able to outsmart another group of also (apparently) very smart people. The net result is political history.

You may not be a fan of the oft repeated sports to political machine to business analogies that I have so clumsily added to. But it’s undeniable in my mind. Talent wins on the field, in the boardroom, and at the ballot box. Open any twenty business magazines and the proof is right in front of you. Top 30 Under 30 lists. Best Marketers designations. Top rated CEO in the world research. Each of these three are on the covers of some of the top publications in October alone. Beyond the headlines and covers, there is more emphasis on talent in the business press than ever before.

Go to any conference in the world and I guarantee you will hear more than one speech that starts with a reference to the rate of change or digital impact on the world. Not only is that the go to line of a mediocre public speaker, it masks the real change in the world. The nerds have taken over.

I use the nerd word for impact and it’s rude of me to do so. What I really mean is smart people have taken over. Historically the world has been governed by the biggest people, the bravest fighters, and the most barbaric leaders. Over time that translated to a self-created concept of royalty which then dissipated into a falsehood called democracy, which really was a mask for the rich and powerful to rule as they saw fit.

But today there is a new weapon that is more powerful than brawn and more sustaining than wealth. Intelligence. Competence. Resilience. Talent. The change that the boring speaker you saw last week referred to isn’t in the outputs residing as apps on your mobile phone or drones flying in your warehouse. It’s the creators and innovators behind these products have now been given an opportunity to impact the world. Call them what you want. Geniuses. Serial Entrepreneurs. The next Steve Jobs. Makers. They are here and they have taken over.

Which is a good thing for your organization, your career, the educational choices of your sons and daughters. The old rules of the game are disappearing and the new rules are much like the famous quote from the movie Fight Club. Rule # 1 is there are no rules.

Talent wins. That should be the game plan for your organization just as is it is for the World series finalists.

Friends and Partners of TrojanOne,

Mark Harrison
President, T1

Thanks to Just for Laughs I have seen more than a lifetime’s worth of great stand-up, exotic dance, puppet theater, performing troupes, political commentators, and raunchy comics.

None of which could have prepared me for the wizardry of Trevor Noah who headlined JFL42 at the Sony Centre this past weekend.

Admittedly I knew nothing of Noah except for this:

1. He is South African.
2. He is Jon Stewart’s replacement on The Daily Show.
3. He is the same shade as me.

What I learned on Saturday was this:

1. He could be the funniest man alive.
2. He could be more popular than Stewart.
3. He could be a global voice for change.

Over the next few days, Noah will go from relatively unknown in North America to star of one of the best late night shows around (so I’m told). But his background, talent, and conviction are going to amplify his impact to much farther than the boundaries of a flatscreen television.

Let’s begin with his background. Noah was born as a mixed race child in a South Africa that still deemed it illegal for whites to procreate with blacks. Raised by his black mother, he faced all the atrocities you can imagine of being poor and abused in an apartheid ruled township. His mother was jailed for birthing Noah. She later was shot twice by her ex-husband (not Noah’s father) and saved from death only by the jamming of his gun. Her ex received a measly three years of “corrective supervision” and later threatened to kill Noah.

Noah was a superstar in Africa. He is an immensely smart man who speaks six languages and his intellectual gifts allowed him to attend private school as a child. As a comic he has everything you could wish for. The dramatic outrage of a Richard Pryor. The multi-ethnic platform of a Russell Peters. The physical abilities of a Chris Rock. All wrapped up in a Louis CK type on-stage bravery.

But what thrilled me most about Noah was how he speaks his mind. To call him a comedian or a TV host would be demeaning. He is a man who has sensed the magnitude of the vehicles he has commandeered and he intends to use them. He rails against racism. He explains the illogic of the news media’s coverage of crimes. He admits his own prejudices. He calls upon the audience to not judge. He literally shouts out for a world where we perhaps can all get along.

I had this odd feeling watching him that this man, who has literally been thrust into my imagination overnight, will someday become the second most infamous South African to impact the world. He is just thirty-one years old. He is admittedly a willing workaholic. His motivation comes from a legacy of persecution. He seems, to me, unstoppable.

In the marketing industry, agency people pretend that award shows don’t matter. That’s the party line they like to tell themselves, and clients, until they don’t win. Then the truth quickly reveals itself.

That was me last week at the Promo! Awards.

Despite going into the event knowing that none of our several nominations had won, I still invested heavily in tickets for my team. I felt amply prepared to deal with the fact that work I knew was great, and had the business results to prove it, was trumped by work others had deemed greater. But I was wrong.

Losing, even when understood in advance, fundamentally sucks. As professional as I should be given my role in the industry, the outcome still triggered a significant and negative reaction in me. The winners in our categories did not appear to be better than our candidates, or generate more meaningful business impacts. Some of the winners I felt were not appropriately qualified to be entered. My frustration was compounded by various judges sequestering me to apologize that this entry or that didn’t reach the podium, despite their personal advocacy for our submission.

All that adds up to a serious case of award show envy.

It didn’t stop me from congratulating the winners. It didn’t stop me from being impressed by the Best in Show and several other medalists. It didn’t stop me from being so inspired by the creativity of the work that all I wanted to do was start writing our next project brief. It didn’t stop me from wanting to do better for my clients and walk the stage with them in future years.

Win or lose, there is tremendous value in award shows. The right shows. Those that award winners based on business results. Those that showcase your industry to participants, clients, suppliers, talent, and media alike. Those that are well attend, curated, and produced.

Award show entries are expensive, time consuming, and contentious. Yet the exercise of seeing your work through the eyes of others is an invaluable payoff for the investment. There is no greater motivator than pain. So watch out award shows, we are on a mission to do even better work. Not just because trophies matter, but because of what they represent.

The United States is bearing witness to fierce nomination campaigning right now.

Party representatives are being faced with tough choices of unknown candidates, disgraced former governors, religious zealots, racist bullies, and mysterious managers of government email records.

But there is another more important nomination campaign being waged. This one is for the privilege and honour of being a presenter at the 2016 South by Southwest Conference. For that important race, I have thrown my hat in the race along with my running mate, IMI International’s legendary Don Mayo.

To call Southby a conference is a bit like calling Burning Man a concert. SXSW is a dizzying circus of presentations, events, stunts, panels, parties, pitching, schmoozing, films, concerts, networking, demonstrations, workshops, learning, and food trucks. Any event held in Austin, Texas must include reference to their food trucks.

I have been twice and wish I had started attending a decade ago. It is in a nutshell, the conference every marketer needs to hit at least twice. Why twice? The advice I was given prior to my first Southby was to expect nothing out of it. Just learn the lay of the land.

Those particular advisor givers were both right and wrong. SXSW is overwhelming. It takes a first visit to figure it out. Maybe more. But I did get a lot out of it Year 1 and even more Year 2.

If I was to highlight one takeaway it would be the people. There are venture capitalists attending, social media influencers, celebrities, agency staff, baby faced entrepreneurs, client side stars, media, and a whole ton of wannabes.

So now in to my pitch.

I want to speak at SXSW. Why is the obvious question? Is it to build our agency’s profile? Attract new business? Recruit new talent? Yes. Yes. And Yes! Is it to feed my ego? No Answer.

But there is more to it than that. I love public speaking as you know and work harder than you might realize for every presentation I give. So I want to test my skills and see how I do on a massive stage. I want to share our agency’s learnings and client experiences, as truly it’s a passion of mine to help build our industry. I want to show off what Canada has to offer, hence my pairing up with as unique talent as this land can boast in Don Mayo. I want to meet like minded people and being front and center is a powerful magnet.

So to do all this I need your help. I need your votes. I need you to go online, create an SXSW account, and show me some love. Here is the link: http://panelpicker.sxsw.com/vote/54525

Our topic?
Moneyball: Translating Analytics into Marketing Gold

Here is the official write-up (thanks to Maria on our team!):

No industry draws as much universal passion as sports. And no industry draws as much data. When everything is measured – speed, heart rate, agility – how do you know what will actually be helpful in creating the perfect team or play? With the advancements in digital analytics and consumer research, sports marketers are now faced with a similar challenge – endless possibilities in measuring fans’ engagement and affinity. Avoid data overload. Learn how to effectively leverage data’s power to fuel your winning plays for compelling and authentic brand experiences. Get insights from more than just best-in-class cases – go behind-the-scenes with the researchers and strategists themselves. – See more at: http://panelpicker.sxsw.com/vote/54525#sthash.xr8fYnJR.dpuf

Now you have the link and the ask, here is my platform. If you vote for me I promise to:
1. Wear a Canadian flag when I present. Not sure where yet, but the suggestion box is open.
2. Provide copies of the presentation to all who can prove they voted for Don and me. Autographs will be extra.
3. Periscope Don and I’s rehearsal of the final presentation the night before, for your viewing pleasure. Subtitles will be sponsored by IMI wizards Neal and Adam.
4. If we get picked, I promise not to talk endlessly about it at CSFX16 in February. (Man it’s hard to type with my fingers crossed.)
5. Invite all confirmed voters who also attend our presentation at SXSW to our post presentation celebration on 6th Street. Understand of course the polite thing is for you to buy, not us.

In all seriousness, I think you know the importance of this to me and I can only say thank-you a million times over for your support.

NEW.

It’s the most powerful word in Marketing.

Everybody loves New. The new smartphone. The new car. The new boutique hotel. The new condo development. The new restaurant. The new sushi place. The new library. The new teacher. The new mall. The new coffee shop. New.

New boyfriends. New neighbours. New employees. New job. New apartment. New car. New house. New condo. New shirt. New watch. New puppy. Everything seems better with those few letters tacked on.

So how come it’s so hard to get people to do new things. Change habits. Take on different approaches to work. Forget other people. What about yourself?

I personally find that NEW sounds sexy and then…the slippage starts.

I like new diets.
I love new exercise regimes.
I also love new ways of working.
New approaches to managing my day.
New apps.
New approaches to meetings.
New age business books to read.
New blogs to read.
New blogs to write.
New speeches to give.
New conferences to attend.
New ways to motivate.
New ways to communicate.

But sustaining new is hard. It requires discipline. Patience. Focus. Motivation. Maybe it requires a marketing campaign? A self-directed campaign created and consumed by the same entity. Me.

I think it’s a unique idea. Do you? Want to give it a try? I do.

Now I need to find an application. An opportunity to test it out. The beatific aspect of being in the marketing world is every day presents a new challenge. See I’m already marketing new things. So my next challenge is going to be mounted with a marketing campaign. Off I go to create a compelling proposition, find uncluttered channels, and deliver a message that will resonate. With Me!

If you don’t want to hear me whine, turn the page.

I’m floating at 36,000 feet over somewhere called Canora right now. The seat map says we are doing 825 KMH, but I feel like I’m standing still. According to aviation experts…that’s a good thing!

The cabin is cool. The flight is smooth. My family is tucked in nicely with their in-flight movies. Call me content.

But that wouldn’t be accurate.

I’m annoyed beyond annoyance. Upside down from the bright side. My cloud is grey and there is no silver in sight.

Peeved should be my new surname. I think it’s automatically bilingual, so the stewardess should be able to pronounce it when they page. “Monsieur Peeved, please stop issuing death stares at the lady next to your wife.”

That won’t get me to stop.

She’s going to have endure my wrath the entire flight. Because she just set common courtesy back a century this morning, in a scenario we all know too well. The airline seat shuffle.

This was an easy one for her to win. My wife had a window seat in a 2-4-2 configuration. When I booked online it showed me next to her in the aisle. But somehow the map was wrong so I’m across from her. But still on the aisle.

Sounds simple so far doesn’t it?

Of course I waited for the person who had the seat I wanted and asked if we could change seats. They are both aisles. Both the same size. Both the same row. Both the same colour even. Okay so hers was a few feet closer to the window and yes mine was on the end of a row of four.

I politely asked for her to switch. It’s a routine ask, happens on every flight. Every day. I indicated the location of my wife. Quickly added the proximity of my children, smiled naturally and waited for her to say of course, no problem.

Bzzzzzzz. Does this woman really have a toaster oven buzzer in her head? Did she really just zap me. I feel like one of those TV cop show sound cannisters just went off in my head. She is rejecting my request.

She looked down. She looked at her booked seat. She threw her eyes away from my booked seat and used them to demonstrate the perils of being in a row of four. She didn’t say sorry. She didn’t ask if it was airline error. She didn’t even ask my wife if she minded.

Bzzzz.

I was stunned. Really I ask? She snorted about how she didn’t want to be in a row of four.

But it’s got two aisles. There is no Noble Prize winning mathematical formula in the world that supports her argument she may have to provide more bathroom aceess than being next to one person. In theory, no sorry, in reality she is only next to one person in a four pack!

She wasn’t in a debating mood. I hastily retreated and sent my wife a quick email vent.

I couldn’t believe it. You don’t realize how much simple courtesy means in your life until you are denied the same. But I’m getting her back. I’ve already plotted how I’m going to block her exit when she wants to leave. She will be stuck to that chair like a Louisiane inmate when I’m done with her. If she does escape she’s going to experience the new Olympic sport of slow walking. I have amazing peripheral vision, she has no hope of getting past me!

If this wasn’t a professional media channel I would also share with you my preparations to spray her with flatulents all the way up the airport ramp. I’m strategically ordering right now from the on board Cafe.

If she survives all those nuisances than she might want to think twice about the baggage carousel. I’m debating using a cart to block her in to a back breaking corner or innocently advising my kids to stand next to her armed with some dubious data from me that the bags come out in the same proximity as our seats. There is guaranteed at least one crushed toe or annoying elbow in the rub coming out of that.

Maybe I will get lucky and she will be scheduled on the same return flight home. Perhaps the shoe will be on the other foot. Or the butt on the other cushion. Payback is always a multiple of the crime.

I’m enjoying this.

The Debating Games are well underway as Toronto has a brief lull between the Pan Am Games closing and the Para Pans soon to start here on August 7th.

So it’s time to rev up the debate around T.O. bidding for the Big O. As in Olympics. Also as in the unfortunate and timeless nickname that will forever shackle the legacy of the 1976 Montreal Olympics. The Big O debate is whether or not Toronto should pursue, yet again, a bid for the Summer Olympics. The 2024 Games are next on the docket and the powers that be have only precious weeks to make a call. The smoke hadn’t lifted from the extinguished cauldron Sunday night before politicos, scribes, and sports advocates come out blazing and choosing sides. Add the backdrop of Boston’s humiliating exit from the 2024 race this week and the fire just keeps getting hotter.

I have an obvious bias. I am all for anything that helps Canada, Toronto, athletes, our industry. Let’s face it, there is clear opportunity for economic gain for people like me if we have an Olympics in our city. But candidly I also see the argument for things such as pursuing the Expo 2025 bid. Objectively, that property may generate better, larger, more sustainable, and accessible benefits. But I am not picking or stumping for one over the other. But I do have an unshakably strong opinion about one thing. Context.

Too often when Olympics, or Stadiums, or Expansion Teams are debated, the opponents twist and turn numbers to make them suit their arguments. It’s easy for adversaries of a cause to focus on the examples and cases of past failures. It’s human nature to debate what didn’t work and why that should be a lesson. It’s also human nature to be non-believers. To have little faith. Zero courage. The vast majority of society lives with these shackles.

Thankfully history has been dominated by people who dare to believe. People who dare to think the world isn’t flat. People who have the courage to turn back dictators. People who have faith that man can fly. People who want to walk on the moon. People who want to connect the world electronically.

The Debating Games need those people. People who will point to Barcelona and prove the Olympics can work. People who can point to new types of companies and demonstrate how old models in business, charity, and education are extinct. People who understand how those disruptive models need to be applied to legacy organizations like IOC and FIFA. People who can apply those disruptive models to building infrastructure. People who can apply those disruptive models to managing events.

If we do this, then we will see the real opportunity. The real opportunity isn’t to hold a party for a few elite bureaucrats or sponsors. The real opportunity is to inspire the minds and hearts of our young people. Our old people. Our disenfranchised people. It’s an opportunity to do what we do best. That is, be Canadians.

We say we are a great country. We say we are innovative people. We say we are a community. We say we are entrepreneurs.

So let’s prove it. Let’s bid, win, stage an Olympic Games that creates a legacy of sport, access, equality, and fiscal soundness…that will make us all forget we ever argued about it in the first place.