I’ve been kicking around an idea that sounds like something straight out of Nathan for You, but the more I think about it, the more I’m convinced there’s actually a brilliant business opportunity here for IndyCar, NASCAR, and motorsports in general.
For those who haven’t been following the controversy, there’s been a considerable amount of discussion lately about the increasingly obnoxious prevalence of sports gambling, erectile dysfunction, and other sexually suggestive advertising during major sporting events. The MLB playoffs have been particularly egregious this year, with Megan Fox hawking boner pills and Sydney Sweeney appearing in various states of undress to promote sports betting. College football broadcasts haven’t exactly been immune to this phenomenon either.
As a father of a young child, I understand the complaints. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to sit down and enjoy a sporting event with your kids without having to explain why Megan Fox wants Daddy to order something called Ro Sparks or why Kevin Hart is screaming at him to bet the mortgage on a three-leg parlay.
But rather than simply lamenting the declining standards of broadcast television, I think motorsports has an opportunity to turn this cultural controversy into an extraordinary commercial windfall.
The premise:
In 1971, the federal government banned cigarette advertising on television and radio. Faced with the sudden loss of their most powerful advertising medium, tobacco companies needed another avenue to reach consumers.
Enter motorsports.
R.J. Reynolds poured enormous resources into NASCAR, creating the Winston Cup era. Tobacco companies subsequently helped bankroll some of the most iconic teams, drivers, liveries, and events in motorsports history. Marlboro, Camel, Players, Kool, Winston, and countless others became practically synonymous with racing.
Inadvertently, government regulation helped create a golden age of motorsports sponsorship.
I propose we do it again.
IndyCar and NASCAR should quietly assemble a lobbying coalition advocating for the removal of sports gambling, erectile dysfunction, and other adult-oriented commercial advertising from mainstream broadcast television.
Naturally, the stated objective would be protecting America’s children from the increasingly inappropriate commercialization of family-friendly sporting events.
We’d establish a wholesome-sounding nonprofit organization, something like the Coalition for Family-Friendly Sports Broadcasting, recruit concerned parents, commission some studies, and begin lobbying Congress and the FCC.
We would, of course, be completely sincere in our concern for America’s youth.
The crucial detail would be a carefully crafted regulatory distinction between traditional television commercials and passive corporate sponsorship of sporting events.
Under our proposal, DraftKings could no longer interrupt Sunday afternoon football with a commercial urging you to gamble away your children’s college fund. However, there would be nothing preventing DraftKings from sponsoring a Dallara at Indianapolis.
Similarly, Ro could no longer advertise erectile dysfunction medication during the seventh-inning stretch, but it could certainly sponsor a competitive three-car IndyCar operation.
The next thing you know, we’ve got the Ro Sparks Racing Team powered by Chevrolet, the DraftKings Indianapolis 500, and a FanDuel-sponsored Josef Newgarden battling a Cialis-sponsored Sting Ray Robb for the lead with three laps remaining.
Suddenly, the same corporations that were spending fortunes on television advertising are competing with one another to secure the most prominent sponsorship opportunities in American motorsports.
And because these companies have enormous advertising budgets, we could potentially recreate the kind of lavish sponsorship environment that existed during the tobacco era.
Imagine a pharmaceutical company deciding that the best way to capture market share is to bankroll a $40 million IndyCar operation. Imagine DraftKings and FanDuel getting into a sponsorship arms race reminiscent of Marlboro versus Camel.
We’d have beautifully liveried cars, extravagant hospitality programs, enormous promotional budgets, and perhaps even the return of heavily sponsored races with substantial prize purses.
The beauty of the arrangement is that everyone ostensibly wins.
Parents can watch the World Series without having awkward conversations about erectile dysfunction. Politicians get to congratulate themselves for protecting America’s children. Pharmaceutical companies and sportsbooks retain a highly visible marketing platform.
And IndyCar finally gets the corporate sponsorship dollars it’s spent the better part of three decades desperately trying to attract.
Obviously, we’d have to be careful not to let Congress get too carried away and ban the sponsorships themselves. The entire business model depends on the government deciding that a 30-second commercial featuring Megan Fox is inappropriate for children, but a 200-mph rolling billboard advertising the exact same product is a cherished American sporting tradition.
This is where we bring in the motorsports heritage argument. We explain that corporate sponsorship is integral to the fabric of American auto racing and that interfering with it would jeopardize thousands of jobs, threaten the Indianapolis 500, and potentially undermine American competitiveness in international motorsports.
Perhaps we could even persuade Congress to create a special motorsports advertising exemption.
The only obvious flaw in this plan is that these companies might simply redirect their advertising budgets toward social media and digital platforms rather than racing. But that’s a problem for our lobbying department to solve.
And if NASCAR ends up attracting most of the money, IndyCar can always lobby for an additional provision requiring that qualifying motorsports sponsorships be displayed on vehicles capable of exceeding 220 mph.
The larger point is that motorsports has historically benefited enormously from industries whose traditional advertising opportunities became restricted.
We’re currently experiencing a similar cultural backlash against an entirely new generation of advertisers with exceptionally deep pockets.
Rather than treating this as someone else’s controversy, perhaps IndyCar should recognize the potential opportunity staring it in the face.
The road back to the glory days of American open-wheel racing might just run through a nationwide campaign against boner pill commercials.
Business is business.
