The Major League Baseball All-Star Game is a treasure trove of amazing and emotional moments.  The only downside is that virtually all of them are scripted: A feeble George Steinbrenner transported via golf cart to the center of the field during opening ceremonies, Hall of Fame legends giving pep talks to current players in the locker rooms, and the incongruous image of peacenik Cheryl Crow singing the final few lines of the Star Spangled Banner while an ever-so-ominous B-2 Bomber flew over Yankee Stadium.  I’m not really sure what multi billion dollar birds of prey from the Pentagon have to do with our national pastime, but that discussion is for another time.

The moment that will stay with me for many years to come (as I sat there with my 15 year old son soaking in every drop from this extravaganza) was completely unplanned.  The fact that it is now forever emblazened in my consciousness is not good news for Boston Red Sox pitcher Jonathan Papelbon.  The unforgettable nature of the moment is also testament to the power of a controversial public comment made on the biggest of stages.  

The day before the game, Papelbon told the media that if the game was close, and the American League was leading in the 9th inning, he would expect to be the pitcher (known as a closer) called in to save the game.  Papelbon is an excellent closer, there’s no denying that.  But by saying that, he insinuated (rather overtly) that he is a better relief pitcher than the Yankees’ Mariano Rivera, who is undeniably the greatest closer in the history of baseball.  That’s probably not the smartest claim to make in New York City, where more than a few shrines have been built to pay homage to the great Mariano.  Yankee fans are insanely protective of their legends, as Papelbon would soon discover.

So sure enough, the game is close with the AL leading in the 8th.  In comes Papelbon (presumably the manager is saving Mariano for the more prestigious job of closing in the 9th).  Now I’ve been going to Yankee Stadium since I was eight years old, and never have I heard booing rain down on a player like I did that night.   When it came time for Papelbon to throw his first pitch, 55,000+ fans suddenly started chanting in perfect unison “M-A-R-I-A-N-O.”   When the crowd felt it was time to change it up, they started chanting “O-V-E-R-R-A-T-E-D.”  

Papelbon has learned two very tough lessons that are always covered in media training.  The bigger the stage, the more cautious you need to be with your remarks.  When the media covers an event that has little spontaneity (Super Bowl, political conventions, etc.) they’re looking to create a story out of the thinnest of openings.  Papelbon cracked open the door of controversy and the sports writers kicked it in.  The other lesson deals with brevity.  Papelbon’s ill-advised remark came towards the tail end of a lengthy Q & A sessions with reporters.  In media training there’s a very simple principle: the longer you talk, the more trouble you’re likely to get into.  In this instance, it was Papelbon who needed someone to come in and “save” him.

“Oh, I don’t need media training.  I’ve been on TV a lot.”  I hear that all the time.  Hey, I’ve been playing golf since I was six years old but I’m still a 15 handicap.  Last week Jesse Jackson’s big league blunder on Fox News painfully exposed that even the biggest media opportunists, who are flashing their mug on screen all the time, need periodic reminders on how not to self destruct.  But Reverend Jesse didn’t make just one beginner’s mistake – he made three.  That’s ineptitude that’s hard to fathom, even from a man who once referred to New York City as Heimie-Town. 

His first tactical error broke one of the most basic tenets of communications coaching, a reminder so basic, so fundamental, that often we’re tempted to remove it from our list of Best Practices for fear we will insult a client’s intelligence.  It is the “See Spot Run” of our do’s and don’t’s: 

“When you are wearing a microphone, everything you say has the potential to be heard and/or used.  Never say anything that is contrary to the message you are communicating or that you wouldn’t want broadcast.  This holds true especially when wearing a wireless microphone.”

Obviously it’s been a while since Jackson has had a media training tune-up or perhaps he never saw The Naked Gun scene in which Leslie Nielsen unwittingly leaves a news conference stage to visit the Men’s Room, his groans of relief standing at the urinal amplified for everyone to hear by the still-hot wireless microphone he’s wearing.  

Jackson has never shied away from controversy.  Why should he?  He’s used it to his advantage for so many years and it has kept him in the news despite his waning relevance.  But his second fundamental mistake brought the kind of controversy that has no up side.  It’s a violation of both a fundamental media training principle and good social awareness that governs how you behave at a dinner party:

Avoid talking about politics and sex and any anatomical parts used in the practice of the latter.

Besides, if Senator Obama makes it to the Oval Office, he’ll probably need, especially in moments of crisis, precisely what Jackson threatened to cut off.  Although Hillary Clinton supporters would argue that it’s precisely that body part that’s responsible for the mess we’re in now.

The third big time boo-boo is the easiest to commit, especially for public figures with big egos who are past their prime:

Don’t say anything that will make you appear to be envious or judgmental of someone who has replaced you or succeeded you.   Jackson’s crass criticism revealed that in the spectrum of the so-called “gorgeous mosaic,” his envy puts him much closer to green than black.  It’s not the first time in this campaign that one Democrat has hurt another with an ill-advised comment.  A few months ago, Geraldine Ferraro played the sexism card in her grumblings over why Hillary Clinton was having such a rough time nailing down the nomination.  Her remarks caused controversy that ultimately did more harm than good.  But at least her faux pas was committed in an effort to help Hillary.  It would be hard to argue the same for what Jackson did to Obama.

So in the wake of his careless stroll through the minefield, how did Jackson recover?  I was asked that very question by Michael Saul, Political Correspondent for The New York Daily News.  In a piece entitled, Jesse Jackson hits TV-show circuit to apologize after vulgar comment,  I said that falling on his sword was Jackson’s only viable course of action.  By liberally spreading himself around the airwaves to explain himself, (and it truly was all-Jesse, all the time) Jackson effectively shortened the news cycle, ensuring that everyone would be sick of this story at day’s end by virtue of him overexposing it.  

Good decision.  But now it seems time for Reverend Jackson to revisit his media training A, B C’s, because there will doubtless be a lot of open mics between now and November.

Uncle Sam is no different from the rest of us.  On his birthday he would (if he were a real person) do what we all do: take stock of his successes and disappointments, assess how gracefully (or not) he’s aged, and ask the logical question, “I’m 232 years old.  Is this where I’d thought I’d be at this age. 

Like any A-list celebrity, Uncle Sam would likely generate lots of media requests for interviews.  But should he grant them?  Saying no and hiding behind his Old Glory top hat would be a bad idea.  Everyone would think he’s hiding something.  But agreeing to be interviewed would leave him exposed to addressing all sorts of problems….er…. I mean challenges he faces (no one has “problems” anymore or even “issues”  just the newest banal word: “challenges”). 

Imagine the questions.

1. Why are people being forced to choose between gas and food? 
2. Did the sub-prime mortgage debacle kill the American Dream? 
3. Are you really thinking of waging three simultaneous wars? 
4. How bad will layoffs get? 
5. Will the US dollar ever recover? 
6. Are you past your prime?  

Ultimately every interviewer also will ask some variation on the following: How much longer can you underachieve and still expect to remain #1 when your competitors are gaining on you fast?  

I really do love Uncle Sam, so I would want him to ace these interviews.  So even though he collects a healthy chunk of every consulting dollar I earn, here’s some free advice for him (and for all other #1 players who see their pesky rivals getting bigger in their rearview mirror).

When asked about the competition, don’t brand them, and don’t slam them.  There’s nothing to be gained from giving the other guys who are gaining on you free air time and making them seem like the center of attention.  Remember, they would love to be in your shoes.  And for goodness sakes, don’t disparage them.  You’ll come across looking petty and threatened, conduct unbecoming of someone in a leadership position.

When asked about competition, every fiber of your being should be exuding a “bring it on” attitude.  Never appear intimidated by your rivals.  Remember, it’s the thrill of competing that gets you out of bed in the morning and makes this all so exciting.  Competition makes you bring you’re “A-game” every day.  Imagine how boring being #1 would be if it was merely handed to you.

In the face of skeptical questioning, Uncle Sam should remind everyone of his track record.  He’s faced challengers for many decades and has always emerged with his leadership status in tact:  Germany, Japan, the USSR, etc.  He needs to exude the same conviction that the future will be no different, despite changing global realities.  But he also can’t sound like he’s clinging to an outdated dream.  He needs to be armed with a handful of specific measures and initiatives already underway that remind everyone that he is still a visionary, and not an overwhelmed fireman merely putting out the most threatening blaze directly in front of him.   Vague generalities about greatness and mindless chest beating we’ve heard over and over, and each time it sounds more stale.

So that is my modest birthday gift to you Sammy Boy.   And between you and me, you don’t look a day over 231.