`Nike Guys' Help Those Shoes Sell

BEAVERTON, Ore. - Of all the Nike World Campus' scenic attributes, the most telling is its "Walk of Fame." The plaques decorate walkways linking the John McEnroe Building and the Nolan Ryan Computer Services Building and the Joe Paterno Day Care Center, among other similarly-christened edifices.

Two former Dallas Cowboys made the Walk. One is Jimmy Johnson, his hair remarkably life-like in bronze. The other is Ed "Too Tall" Jones, the defensive end, whose tribute is straight out of the Nike mind-set.

"The heart of America's Team," the plaque reads, "Too Tall is the most enduring Cowboy in the history of the franchise."

Never mind that Staubach fellow. Or Tony Dorsett or Bob Lilly or a dozen of Too Tall's contemporaries, not to mention the current cast.

They weren't "Nike guys." Too Tall was, to the everlasting gratitude of Nike boss Phil Knight, who built a shoe company out of the trunk of his car into a $4 billion business in less than 20 years.

He started at the feet of athletes like Too Tall and Bob Newland and Phil Chenier, whose busts can be found among those of Michael Jordan and Bo Jackson and Charles Barkley, the cast generally credited with turning a shoe company into a cultural icon.

As the plaques testify, though, Nike has been loyal to a host of athletes, from McEnroe ("He symbolizes the spirit of Nike: A rebel with a cause") to pentathlete Jane Frederick ("She has long been recognized as one of the most pleasant athletes on the track and field circuit").

`Buying every athlete'

Nike became the biggest sporting goods manufacturer in the world, as one former rival put it, by "buying every athlete they could get their hands on." But those days may be over. Nike's advertising focus is shifting, at least in part, to amateur athletes. Fewer pro athletes on the whole have shoe contracts than they did 10 years ago, one former shoe company executive said, and Nike has followed the pack on that account.

Even Bo Jackson and Nike parted ways this year. Their "Bo Knows" series in 1986 allowed Nike to regain its top spot in the athletic shoe market, which it has held ever since.

"Before, they never let go of an athlete," said Fred Fried, chief operating officer of Integrated Sports International and a former endorsement representative for Michael Jordan. "They're too big for that now. They're treating them like other companies do, like commodities.

"To a certain extent, that's disheartening."

The trend also runs against what made Nike. Using hyperbole and chutzpah and hard work, Nike struck it rich as the first shoe company to realize athletes' vast marketing potential.

Advertisers used athletes for decades, of course, for everything from tobacco (Honus Wagner) to pantyhose (Joe Namath). But Nike's genius, marketing experts say, was in buying athletes by the locker room, making its signature "swoosh" one of sports' most ubiquitous symbols.

"Nike went from zero to $1 billion in sales without buying one single line of advertising," said LSU athletic director Joe Dean, who formerly went toe-to-toe with Nike in his role as Converse' top shoe salesman.

Asked once why he never bought an advertisement in "Sports Illustrated," Knight said, "Why should I? We've been getting the cover for free."

Unable to afford an ad?

Nike's corporate style has made it so big so fast it is difficult to imagine that, once, they might not have been able to afford an ad.

Just 11 years ago, when the running boom Nike rode in the late 1970s was stumbling, Nike stock sold at six and five-eights. Then a guard out of North Carolina signed on, and the marketing schemes behind "Air Jordan" and Jackson two years later vaulted Nike to the top of the shoe pile.

Fried called Knight "a phenomenal businessman." And, despite the recent move away from at least one high-profile athlete and a shift in marketing focus, one thing about Nike remains clear.

"The athletes have always been the most important part of their product," Fried said. "It all comes down to one word with them: authenticity."