This is a post about the three basic rules of crisis communications and how a week just doesn’t go by these days (or so it seems) in which we aren’t witness to either complete disregard for, or blatant violation of, these PR basics.
The rules are:
1. Tell the truth
2. Tell it all
3. Tell it now
Easy to remember. Easy to say. Not so easy to follow, evidently. I haven’t cared much about some of the more recent and notable examples of companies, politicians and athletes (and their PR firms) who don’t seem to know or remember these rules because, frankly, a Governor disappearing on the Appalachian Trail or to Argentina or to the moon or wherever with his mistress just isn’t that interesting to me.
That was until last week. Last week was a sad one for Red Sox Nation. Boston Red Sox DH, clubhouse leader, ninth-inning hero, and all-around mensch David Ortiz was implicated as a user of performance enhancing drugs in the 2003 investigation led by Former Secretary of State George Mitchell. Big Papi was on the list! NOOoooooo …
[pause here to gather myself]
See, I’m a sports fan. Among professional sports I am a baseball fan first. And to me there is only the Boston Red Sox. I am a lifelong citizen of the Nation. My family is multi-generational that way. My grandfather, an immigrant to this country in 1919, embraced baseball and the Red Sox almost immediately as a way to Americanize himself. Both my parents grew up in Western Massachusetts, a stronghold of the Fenway Faithful. My wife’s family is from Boston’s South Shore … ’nuff said. If nothing else, damn it, my kids are going follow suit. My first live experience with professional baseball was at Game 2 of the ‘75 World Series (my father, grandfather, cousin and me — Sox lost 3-2 with a long rain delay. Didn’t care. At all.) We live in Red Sox country and most of us at KG Partners are fans. Yes, sadly, we have a few followers of the soulless, evil empire (the one with the new soulless, overpriced stadium a couple hundred miles southwest of here). For this we make them feel pretty bad about themselves. That’s a matter of policy (see chapter three of our employee handbook).
Speaking of the Yankees, the same thing happened to Alex Rodriguez earlier this year. That was a big deal too, but it was tempered by the fact that most baseball fans already see A-Rod as, well, a punk. Guilty before proven innocent. That’s what happens when you go on “60 Minutes”, deny it, then get caught and have to admit it. Manny Ramirez, Papi’s teammate and partner in their 3-4 power combo for all those years was also implicated in the same leak last week. But, nothing but a collective yawn could be heard in New England after that news (Manny left Boston last year on not-so-friendly terms with fans and was caught red-handed for steroid use earlier this season.) 
But Ortiz? How could this be? He’s one of the good guys. A straight shooter, right? Never pimped his run around the bases no matter how dramatic the homer. Never mouthed off. Never complained about playing hurt. It is very, very (very) hard to become a “favorite” sports figure in Boston, but Ortiz was able to pull it off — something to do with helping his team win not one, but two World Series titles after an 86-year drought.
Now they have me. I’m paying full attention to this scandal. I rifle each morning through three newspapers for more reporting and analysis on the story, watch local, national and cable news, scour the Internet … maybe waiting for the report to be rescinded by The New York Times (riiiiiight). And, did I really think the hometown hero would actually stand up and: a. tell the truth, b. tell it all, and c. tell it now? I was kinda hoping….
Back to Earth.
Only David Ortiz (and maybe his lawyers and suppliers) know for sure what he did or did not do. It’s simple - he either did or he didn’t take steroids. It’s one or the other. No third choice. David Ortiz, just like every other player in the same situation, has only two options: tell the truth and come clean, or don’t. If he took steroids but says he didn’t then he’s lying (see rule #1). If he didn’t take steroids, then there’s really no lie to be told and he should volunteer to take an immediate drug test and be done with it (this is close to what he suggested to the media about steroid use in MLB before the season began this year … oops).
But here’s the thing: at a point in any crisis — which happens in about the amount of time it takes a baseball to get over the Green Monster — what really happened doesn’t quite matter.
At that point, we all assume he did it. In fact, we’re sure he did and we get more convinced every time he opens his mouth and says something other than, “I didn’t do it and I will take a test right now to prove it.” Or, alternatively, “I did it, I’m sorry, and I will take a test right now to prove that I am now clean.”
Either way, this is how a PR crisis moves to its conclusion faster and with a much better result for all. That way we will all re-learn how to feel good (even great) about him, Baseball and ourselves. Any statement, especially the long ones, that says anything else only prolongs the issue (we want it to go away), ensures that the media will pay closer attention for a longer time (again, make it go way), and makes it harder to dig out of a reputational hole.
This is an issue that sports, government, business and our free-press society will be dealing with for a long time. Crisis victims and perpetrators alike all wish the media wouldn’t dwell on their misfortunes, mistakes and mismanagement as much as it likes to. We can help ourselves, however. Remember the conversation with your mom or dad when the baseball, Frisbee or, in my case, basketball went through the window? Even on that level we knew the outcome could be either unhappy but quick, or really unhappy and really long. It all depended on our choice to tell the truth, tell it all and tell it now. Or not. How soon we forget.
-Dave Goldberg