The Ottawa Senators recently announced a name change for their arena. Scotiabank Place has become the Canadian Tire Centre.
You read that right. The Canadian Tire Centre, a name that conjures up the delightful smell of motor oil, will now be the home of a professional sports team. It's not that I have anything against Canadian Tire in particular - it's a fine Canadian institution and home of the world's most interesting currency.
No, my problem is with the incessant corporatization of sports, particularly the names of arenas or stadiums.
The problem is that everything in sports today is viewed as a commodity, something to be bought and sold. There is of course a place for advertising in the sports world - it's an essential part of the business model - but there's something so soulless about slapping some banal name on your building just because that company offered the most money.
I mean, seriously. Who could be proud to call the Canadian Tire Centre home? Hell will freeze over before a visiting player waxes eloquent about the mystique and history imbued into every nut and bolt of the place.
It's not like the Senators are the only team guilty of this corporate sell-out, either. It's become an epidemic across all sports. Outside of a few remaining gems like Lambeau Field, the vast majority of North America's professional sports facilities have names that could be ripped right from the daily stock report: Bank of America Stadium, Rexall Place, Bell Centre, Pepsi Center, Staples Center, Verizon CenterI could go on, but it's too depressing.
It wasn't always this way. Once upon a time buildings had simple but meaningful names, names that would last for decades and wouldn't expire when the lease was up.
I'm talking about Maple Leaf Gardens, the Montreal Forum and Chicago Stadium. By today's standards, those places would be considered dumps - no corporate seats, no amenities, no high-definition Jumbotron. By all accounts, though, they had an indescribable aura to them and, I would argue, a part of that aura was their names.
An essential element in any name gaining appeal is longevity; the Montreal Forum wasn't an especially creative name, but it was home to hockey's most successful team for 70 years. After that much time, the name of the arena becomes synonymous with the success emanating from it. Changing the name is akin to pressing the reset button on all that has happened before. The Senators have only been around for 20 seasons but have already played at an arena with four different names.
There's a reason why NBA players, when asked their favourite arena to play in, will almost always answer Madison Square Garden in New York. After setting an arena record by scoring 61 points against the Knicks in 2009, Kobe Bryant reflected on what it meant to perform so well at "The World's Most Famous Arena".
"You want to play well here," he said. "The building is special because it is the last one left. This is the last one that holds all the memories of all the great players."
I imagine Bryant's accomplishment, even if it happened in the same building, would somehow seem less special if it had been achieved at the newly named Wal-Mart Garden.
The other factor that can make an arena name great is specificity - the name is even better if it could only exist in one city. The Canadian Tire Centre, for example, could literally exist in any city in the country.
On this score, Humboldt got it right. The Elgar Petersen Arena is a unique and meaningful name, one that wouldn't work in any other place. Its name means something to the people of this community and it speaks to history, specifically Elgar Petersen's decades of service to the team.
Way to be, Humboldt. BHP Billiton Arena doesn't quite roll off the tongue, anyway.
BC
