Well, we managed to somehow leapfrog the end of the Mayan Calendar without as much as a whiff of any Doom, and we still haven’t expunged ourselves with the mis-handling of nuclear warheads, despite having approximately 20,000 of the devils scattered around the globe. And there’s not a sniff of any alien invasion, Elvis working in KFC or Polar ice heading towards the cocktails of Miami bar revelers for that matter…
All folklore theories eagerly digested by insatiable appetites of the gullible general public.
Which brings us to the phenomena of Super Mario. If ever a man was aptly named!
The media convinces us all about the endless list of pantomime antics, the artistry of his ability with a football and the inane updates of his latest hairstyle.
Do we really care to hear about him proffering fifty pound notes to beggars on the streets of Manchester? Do we care about his latest spat with his boss Roberto Mancini? Do we give a damn if he camourflages his Bentley to avoid detection?
You bet your life we do. If we didn’t have him, we’d have to invent him.
Who else could make the headlines over some unfashionable headgear? Who else could upstage Parliamentarians, politicians or Royalty? Maybe it’s a close run thing with the Royals, but you get the picture.
Mario Balotelli is a publisher’s dream. He’s gone past the necessity of having to play football, even though he still condescends to pick up his weekly cheque of 150 grand each week. His name is household. And that is the real bottom line of this whole scenario. Football pundits call for him to be booted out of Manchester City, they call him an embarrassment to his employers. But is he?
Let’s be honest here: outside of the UK, who had ever heard of Manchester City before, say, four years ago, apart from the dyed in the wool football fanatics? Surely the name of Manchester was heralded around the world by the team with the suffix of United. But then comes a Knight in shining armour, cascading petro dollars onto the gleeful inhabitants of East Manchester.
The Etihad gang needed their brand name emblazoned amongst the stars. City delivered with trophies, played some outstanding football and rose to a higher notch on the footballing ladder of success. But…And this is where the clever stuff comes into play. There really wasn’t any appreciable trail blazing image to carry the roller coaster any further. Until the birth of the Super Mario image.
The Sheik owners need him, and if truthfully blunt, not to play football.
Ask yourself this. Who hasn’t heard of Balotelli? And when you read an article on the guy, you are also getting the name of Manchester City mentioned in the same sentence. Bingo. Its called market selling.
Did Mario really give out money? Did he dress up as Santa and bought all the locals in his pub a drink? When questioned by police on the wad of cash he had in the glove compartment of his car, he told them it was because he was rich. Did this happen?
I tend to think it’s all to do with the publicity machine of some very clever business men.
Argue with your boss Mario with fists raised, but be sure the cameras are present.
Whether we landed on the moon or not, or maybe Area 51 conceals green and yellow aliens, as long as we have Mario Balotelli we’ll always be selling media space.
The end of the world is nigh said the Mayan Calendar, but you can bet your bottom dollar that the quirks of Super Mario will supersede that headline on any news bulletin.
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