WTF WWF? WWE? Really?
In 2002, The World Wrestling Federation lost its biggest fight of all – to a baby panda. When the World Wildlife Fund successfully won suit for the rights to their long-held acronym, WWF, the wrestling dynasty was left with what could have been a great opportunity – change.
But they flinched.
And instead of using the opportunity to re-invent themselves as they wanted to be seen, as a company whose emphasis is on entertainment, not just wrestling, they went on the defensive with a name as geriatric as the Hulk himself: World Wrestling Entertainment.
For an industry built on such subtle programming as Smackdown and Capitol Punishment, you’d think they’d have remembered one of the cardinal rules of reinvention: Go big or go home. Or at least, go down in flames. And I’m not alone on this. Time Magazine chalks the change up as number seven on the list of Top 10 Worst Corporate Name Changes In History.
But why is it so bad? Because it has no fight. A renaming, even a legally forced one, is still a chance to rethink who and what you are, and that means more than a submissive single word change, that attracts attention to itself mostly by announcing to the world, “We lost our name suit.”
More adventurous alternatives would have changed things entirely, making WWF seem like an outdated image they didn’t want anyway. Bigger and better ought to have been the message, not to mention that leaving the word wrestling in the title, didn’t exactly do wonders for the brand’s desires to be seen as a departure from sport-specific programming. A newly milk toast title does not a serious programmer make. You’re a wrestling production company – Own it. That’s what people are coming to see.
And just when you thought the identity crisis was over, just when the past wounds have healed and you’ve readjusted to your lazy-boy, feet propped up and Slurpee adjacent, WWE takes it all away again.
Last week WWE president Vince McMahon announced another strategic change to the company’s identity in an effort to be seen as a “radically different” more diverse global programmer. Never mind that the last time the WWE tried to expand their reach they took a $37-million hit on a failed XFL venture, this time they mean business. And what name will usher in the new era of entertainment victory? What siren song will lure the masses with unparalleled programming artistry and range?
WWE.
“Wait,” you ask, “Weren’t they already the WWE?”
Yes. Only now the acronym is the name, which is to say, their new strategy is to emanate potential flexibility through no message of their own. And this was not just an oversight – the meaninglessness is the message. WWE even issued a long list of prohibited expressions and words that are banned from usage as the company goes forward called “The Language of WWE.” Top of the list: Wrestling, fighters, and sports, that art of which will now be known as “action soap operas.”
The idea was to remove any mention of a particular sport, which again, mostly attracts attention to just that. W-W- anything makes Americans think of wrestling. Period. And if that wasn’t the idea, why is the new name being launched alongside the advertising campaign, “Bigger.Badder.Better?™” Know any bloodthirsty fans itching to buy tickets to an “action soap opera” put on by “superstars?”
Worse than diluting themselves, the WWE has fallen prey to one of the greatest of naming pitfalls, trying to please everyone by pleasing no one. And for this, the WWE is officially the heavyweight champion. In their efforts to exist outside the pigeonhole, they have alienated their fan base and negated the very thing that made them great: drama, testosterone, and a willingness to wear tights. “WWE” communicates little other than the company’s increasing uncertainty about their future.
Good rule of thumb, picking a name is like shopping for your body type: Pick things that accentuate the best parts of your company, not ones that underscore your insecurities. WWE does the latter, it says to the world, “Fuck it, sweat pants it is. No one’s looking anyway.”
