FRIBOURG, Switzerland -- Beyond the harrowing downhills and steep ascents into the Alps and Pyrenees, the Tour de France is a huge marketing machine that moves with as much amazement as the cyclists.
The NBA, NFL and Major League Baseball could learn a thing or two from the French. That's not to say the entourage of publicity vehicles that meander along the course dispensing food samples and touting various enterprises is a good thing. If fact, it appears to be downright dangerous when massive crowds -- as many as 500,000 in some stages -- jump into the narrow streets for free stuff.
Of course, the Tour de France is a business, and race organizers have figured out how to make it work.
"The people wait for hours to see the race," said Florence Maire, the race's marketing director. "It's a way to keep them occupied and they look forward to it."
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| There is a certain madness about the crowd and publicity vehicles during this year's Tour de France. (Reuters) |
Albeit on a grander scale, the caravan of publicity at the Tour de France is not unlike timeout entertainment during NBA games.
FOR SEVERAL YEARS, IT HAS BEEN a common practice for teams throughout the league to have their cheerleaders use large slingshots to launch inexpensive mini-basketballs and T-shirts into the seats. Children in the second and third levels lean over the railings and scamper for the free stuff.
Parents allow -- and sometimes participate -- in the spectacle. Are they unaware their children are risking serious injury in pursuit of something simply because it doesn't cost anything?
Such sponsors' displays and the reactions of the public at the Tour de France make the NBA's gimmicks look safe.
While driving about 90 minutes ahead of the riders, the sponsoring companies - such as Nike, Bic, credit agencies and pasta distributors - move through the crowds in vans and parade-like floats and toss their samples to pleading fans.
IN SOME INSTANCES, THE SPONSOR VEHICLES are converted bread trucks with public address systems that endlessly repeat corporate jingles. As the trucks cruise through the mountains, workers feverishly toss the company's wares out windows and through sunroofs.
Other sponsors take the caravan responsibility with more pageantry in mind. Euro Disney has Donald Duck and Pluto vehicles. A natural gas company has a large frying pan and fried eggs attached to the roof of a car. There are fancy sports cars, alternative vehicles like a huge Michelin tire that rotates, and panel trucks with passengers that promote satellite television systems and offer coffee and Coke samples while tossing peanuts.
There's also an insurance company with a group of young female models all dressed in blue and white. Heavily plastered with makeup, the models drive motorcycles with tall flags. The consensus among others in the caravan is that the models, while beautiful, should have spent more time learning how to drive.
Particularly on narrow, winding uphill roads, the crowds line both sides of the road. Vehicles -- and later -- the cyclists are barely allowed pass. If the products are dispensed on downhill sections, the scene is dramatic. While pursuing sponsors' products, the spectators quickly jump into the streets, then scurry back to the shoulder just before the 220 sponsor vehicles and hundreds more in the media and VIP caravan scoot past at extreme speeds.
BEEPING HORNS LET THE PUBLIC KNOW what's coming. But the reaction is not unlike the reactions to cab drivers who honk in Manhattan -- apathy or overt negative reaction.
"People forget their education and common sense to get something for free," said Sissi Stein, a reporter for Sudwest Press in Germany who has covered the race four times. "It's good for the people, but (the publicity caravan) is not good for nature."
The Tour de France organizers are aware of the dangers and have guidelines for the public relations effort. Sponsors must drive at least five meters (about 16 feet) apart. And while each sponsor must have at least three vehicles, it can not have more than eight.
"We have only real products, we eliminated paper," said Maire. "Paper moves and the children jump for it. It must be something people can use."
Even when sample products are useful, things sometimes go awry.
ON A STEEP CLIMB INTO FRIBOURG, for example, exuberant but long-waiting fans decided that throwing pasta samples at the media caravan was appropriate.
Stein's car was bombarded with corkscrew pasta. Since the car's windows were open, all three passengers, including a visiting U.S. reporter in the back seat, were hit.
"Ouch, that stings," said Stein, while quickly rolling up her window.
"Yes," responded her driver and colleague in typical direct German fashion. "It was not cooked."
Beyond the publicity caravan, the marketing of the Tour de France includes high demand for cities wishing to host a stage start or finish. One popular option, hosting the finish of one stage and then the start of the next stage the following day, costs $650,000.
Each year at the Tour de France, at least a few spectators get hit along the route. Tour organizers downplay the incidents, but welcome such well-known practices as chalking the asphalt with rider and team names, and waving country flags.
"The French like their own riders, of course," said Stein, whose countryman Jan Ullrich likely will become the Tour's first German winner Sunday in Paris. "But they are appreciative of any rider who is giving it his best. It's really the one time during the year the French forget they are French."
It doesn't hurt the cause if they get something -- anything -- free along the way.
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