Hype (noun)
1.) Extravagant or intensive publicity or promotion
2.) A deception carried out for the sake of publicity.
(verb) 1.) Promote or publicize (a product or idea) intensively, often exaggerating its importance or benefits
Marketing is promoting a business or entity. Hype takes that process to an entirely different level— a level of deception. We encounter hype every day. Whether it’s through television advertising, retail store promotion, or dealing with an in-state rival.
Hype is a way of life.
The University of Mississippi is an institution, fan base, administration, and athletics department that has created an cross-institutional mega-hype machine. Hype is ingrained deep in their DNA and they exist exclusively surrounded by a culture of hype.
The Rebel hype merchants would have you believe:
“Oxford is the most beautiful college town in the country.”
“Ole Miss is the Harvard of the South.”
“The Grove is the ultimate tailgating experience.”
“Our coach (pick any of the previous four) is a national-championship-caliber genius.” “This year’s recruiting class (pick any year since 1990) will take us back to the glory days of pre-parity, segregated, pre-1960 Rebel football.”
“Our facilities are second to none.”
They would have you believe this because they believe it. They have completely bought what their own hype merchants have been selling.
Oxford has an appealing and quaint, town square with two oak-canopied streets leading into the courthouse. Those two streets are lined with a few Old South-style homes. But it ends there. Drive two blocks in any direction off of the town square and you could be in any small-town neighborhood in the south.
The Grove is an attractive, relatively small, stand of hardwood trees in the middle of a college campus, but nothing more unique or special than many campuses across the south. The attendees at Grove tailgates are dressed nicely, but the food and beverage offerings are no different than most college campus game-day experiences. Dress it up and turn on the hype machine and, all of a sudden, a myth is born.
Ole Miss alumni often refer to their institution as “the Harvard of the South.” Yet it only takes an ACT score of 16 (less if you gain admittance through probation, or are a highly-touted all-star athletics recruit) to get into this supposed Ivy League-style school.
We are led to believe that the football program is a stalwart of tradition and excellence. Yet for 50 years the overall record is spotty, at best. Recent seasons are filled with zero conference wins and losses to lower division programs. The football team has been owned by their in-state rival in four of the last five years and, since the Egg Bowl contest has been moved back onto the campuses of the two schools (which happens to be before any of the current players were born), The University of Mississippi has a losing record.
The truth is they are masters of hype. They have perfected the art of self-promotion and have reaped its rewards. One has to give them credit. Whoever is in charge of hosting a visiting ESPN or network television crews does a masterful job. Each sport’s broadcast is filled with the exact bullet points they want to stress— the town, the campus, the Grove, ad nauseum.
Ultimately though, the problem with hype is that the participants in the deception (some knowing others unknowingly) begin to believe the con. It happens every time. The man behind the curtain is revealed after a loss and their self-induced hype leaves them wondering: “We have had four world-class recruiting classes. We have the players. We have the coach. We have the ‘tradition.’ How could we lose to a (perceived) ‘inferior’ team?”
The coach is a savior and world-beater one minute, and then summarily run out of town the next. Longevity doesn’t live well with hype and will never satisfy a fan base that is more interested in tradition and image than long-term results and stability.
All of a sudden a recruiting class that is filled with highly rated high school kids— usually players who are easily swayed by hype, image, and shiny surface stuff shown on recruiting visits— begins to fall apart. Student athletes get into legal trouble, have disciplinary problems, or leave school. The work ethic isn’t there because they, too, were products of some other hype machine. The fan base that has bought into the hype is left baffled and frustrated.
Once a fan base grounded in hype culture starts touting itself as a national/conference championship contender, it’s only natural that they begin to buy into that hype and start to believe the myth. Then when the lie is exposed, the public relations layers are peeled off, the season turns out to be yet another average year, they get drilled by their in-state rival, and wind up next to last in their conference division, bewilderment sets in.
It is a paper tiger, or in this case, a paper bear.
Once again, the hype begins to peel away from the head football coach of the moment— a savior only months earlier— and, in an instant, he seems to be making bonehead decisions and calling bad games. The hype is exposed.
The Indoor Practice Facility that has been touted by the hype merchants as a one-of-a-kind facility turns out to be an average or below-average space compared to others in the conference (and a dump compared to the in-state rival’s new football facility). The same goes for the football stadium, basketball arena, and baseball field.
Eventually “lesser” players from other teams defeat football players who were part of highly hyped recruiting classes, and the fan base that bought into the university’s recruiting hype machine is baffled.
It is the ultimate outcome from living in a delicately fabricated bubble surrounded by a culture of hype. It’s not real. It’s a temporary, feel-good Band-Aid. It’s about winning the argument in the moment, not planning and building a strong foundation for the long run.
Let the hype merchants pontificate. Hold firm and remain quiet as they buy into their own swill. Stand by contentedly as they live a life based on surface priorities and “image.” Ultimately it is a fragile culture that will never hold up to the test of time.
1.) Extravagant or intensive publicity or promotion
2.) A deception carried out for the sake of publicity.
(verb) 1.) Promote or publicize (a product or idea) intensively, often exaggerating its importance or benefits
Marketing is promoting a business or entity. Hype takes that process to an entirely different level— a level of deception. We encounter hype every day. Whether it’s through television advertising, retail store promotion, or dealing with an in-state rival.
Hype is a way of life.
The University of Mississippi is an institution, fan base, administration, and athletics department that has created an cross-institutional mega-hype machine. Hype is ingrained deep in their DNA and they exist exclusively surrounded by a culture of hype.
The Rebel hype merchants would have you believe:
“Oxford is the most beautiful college town in the country.”
“Ole Miss is the Harvard of the South.”
“The Grove is the ultimate tailgating experience.”
“Our coach (pick any of the previous four) is a national-championship-caliber genius.” “This year’s recruiting class (pick any year since 1990) will take us back to the glory days of pre-parity, segregated, pre-1960 Rebel football.”
“Our facilities are second to none.”
They would have you believe this because they believe it. They have completely bought what their own hype merchants have been selling.
Oxford has an appealing and quaint, town square with two oak-canopied streets leading into the courthouse. Those two streets are lined with a few Old South-style homes. But it ends there. Drive two blocks in any direction off of the town square and you could be in any small-town neighborhood in the south.
The Grove is an attractive, relatively small, stand of hardwood trees in the middle of a college campus, but nothing more unique or special than many campuses across the south. The attendees at Grove tailgates are dressed nicely, but the food and beverage offerings are no different than most college campus game-day experiences. Dress it up and turn on the hype machine and, all of a sudden, a myth is born.
Ole Miss alumni often refer to their institution as “the Harvard of the South.” Yet it only takes an ACT score of 16 (less if you gain admittance through probation, or are a highly-touted all-star athletics recruit) to get into this supposed Ivy League-style school.
We are led to believe that the football program is a stalwart of tradition and excellence. Yet for 50 years the overall record is spotty, at best. Recent seasons are filled with zero conference wins and losses to lower division programs. The football team has been owned by their in-state rival in four of the last five years and, since the Egg Bowl contest has been moved back onto the campuses of the two schools (which happens to be before any of the current players were born), The University of Mississippi has a losing record.
The truth is they are masters of hype. They have perfected the art of self-promotion and have reaped its rewards. One has to give them credit. Whoever is in charge of hosting a visiting ESPN or network television crews does a masterful job. Each sport’s broadcast is filled with the exact bullet points they want to stress— the town, the campus, the Grove, ad nauseum.
Ultimately though, the problem with hype is that the participants in the deception (some knowing others unknowingly) begin to believe the con. It happens every time. The man behind the curtain is revealed after a loss and their self-induced hype leaves them wondering: “We have had four world-class recruiting classes. We have the players. We have the coach. We have the ‘tradition.’ How could we lose to a (perceived) ‘inferior’ team?”
The coach is a savior and world-beater one minute, and then summarily run out of town the next. Longevity doesn’t live well with hype and will never satisfy a fan base that is more interested in tradition and image than long-term results and stability.
All of a sudden a recruiting class that is filled with highly rated high school kids— usually players who are easily swayed by hype, image, and shiny surface stuff shown on recruiting visits— begins to fall apart. Student athletes get into legal trouble, have disciplinary problems, or leave school. The work ethic isn’t there because they, too, were products of some other hype machine. The fan base that has bought into the hype is left baffled and frustrated.
Once a fan base grounded in hype culture starts touting itself as a national/conference championship contender, it’s only natural that they begin to buy into that hype and start to believe the myth. Then when the lie is exposed, the public relations layers are peeled off, the season turns out to be yet another average year, they get drilled by their in-state rival, and wind up next to last in their conference division, bewilderment sets in.
It is a paper tiger, or in this case, a paper bear.
Once again, the hype begins to peel away from the head football coach of the moment— a savior only months earlier— and, in an instant, he seems to be making bonehead decisions and calling bad games. The hype is exposed.
The Indoor Practice Facility that has been touted by the hype merchants as a one-of-a-kind facility turns out to be an average or below-average space compared to others in the conference (and a dump compared to the in-state rival’s new football facility). The same goes for the football stadium, basketball arena, and baseball field.
Eventually “lesser” players from other teams defeat football players who were part of highly hyped recruiting classes, and the fan base that bought into the university’s recruiting hype machine is baffled.
It is the ultimate outcome from living in a delicately fabricated bubble surrounded by a culture of hype. It’s not real. It’s a temporary, feel-good Band-Aid. It’s about winning the argument in the moment, not planning and building a strong foundation for the long run.
Let the hype merchants pontificate. Hold firm and remain quiet as they buy into their own swill. Stand by contentedly as they live a life based on surface priorities and “image.” Ultimately it is a fragile culture that will never hold up to the test of time.
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