(sung to the music of Neil Diamond’s Sweet Caroline)
Sweet Sister Jean,
She’s college basketball’s reigning queen;
I’ve been inclined,
To hope Loyola beats the line.
When March Madness launched this year, it came with a black eye. It will be leaving on Monday night with a halo. The unlikeliest of the unlikely stories, the 98-year-old, individualized Nike wearing nun behind a group of whosits and I never heard of ’ems has stormed to the grand finale of the tournament–The Final Four–and there’s a great branding lesson in the heartwarming story of 2018.
This is the story college basketball so badly needed after a season tarnished by recruiting scandals and FBI investigations. For fans of the game who wanted and needed to believe again that it was good, they have been given the proverbial and literal gift from the gods. And like a biblical storm, this wheelchair bound woman has been a lighting bolt of a reminder about not giving in to cynicism and that hope (as said by Andy Dufrene) is a good thing.
I doubt any of you can name any of the players on the Loyola Chicago team, and by next year’s March Madness, I doubt most people will even remember who won. But Sister Jean has become the ultimate brand ambassador for Loyola Chicago and has put the school on the map for millions. The school hasn’t released the information, but I’d be willing to bet all of the donuts Homer Simpson can eat that applications for next year’s freshman class and the class after are going to increase dramatically–and it’s because the school now has a brand and a story behind it.
Certainly, the underdog story resonates with everyone, because Americans love to root for the underdog– and you don’t get much longer of a long shot than a team that hasn’t even made the NCAA tournament in 33 years. But that’s just the story behind the brand.
The brand isn’t meant to resonate with everyone; it’s meant to set you apart from the rest of the crowd and speak to a special subset. Loyola doesn’t pitch itself as just another liberal arts college, it pitches itself to those (largely from the Catholic faith) to whom the words on their basketball team’s warm up shirts–Worship. Work. Win.–have an explicit meaning. I’m sure Loyola has some great programs, and I’m equally as certain students of all faiths are matriculated there. But it’s the underlying values so well represented by the image of Sister Jean sitting on the sidelines and interacting with players who embrace her as well as handling the media horde with a nonchalance that says “I know where this fits in my pecking order,” which gives those words meaning. She is the melody to the lyrics, and millions are happily humming along.
Institutions and organizations dream of this kind of publicity, thinking that it’s the key to riches, fame and awareness, but that misses the point because it’s short lived when what they really need is a strong statement of values: the kind which never waver in good times or bad and will be committed to the world through the same prism of belief generation after generation–and is comfortable with who it is. Who better to represent those things than the weathered face and beatific smile of a joyful woman who has seen it all come and go, and who will be comfortable exiting the stage when the last song is sung?
Win or lose, when the story of the underdog comes to a conclusion by Monday night, Loyola might not be hoisting the trophy, but they will leave the tournament with a brand that can’t be beat and a legacy that will speak to generations. Pretty good for a month’s work.