You Gotta Have Balls Read online

  But a few months after the World Series ended, I received an ominous call from a VP of Major League Baseball, Howard Smith. Smith was in charge of licensing and was my contact at MLB. He informed me that Yankees officials were asking questions about Steiner Sports—and me in particular. They had made a lot of calls. They had reached out to Louisville Slugger, the Home Shopping Network, the Yankees Store, and other vendors and accounts we worked with. They had even spoken to a couple of players.

  One core of our business comprised baseballs, bats, and other equipment we had autographed by big name players, including several Yankees. Apparently, the club wanted to know how we were attaining these products—and the parameters under which we were selling them to certain stores. Did we have the proper rights to do this? I don't know that the Yankees management thought I was bribing batboys to sneak equipment out of the clubhouse; but suffice it to say, they had questions about how I was sourcing the merchandise I was selling. They also knew many of their players were doing events with me, and spending time on other Steiner projects. They weren't thrilled with that either.

  In reality, Steiner by that time was working directly with MLB licensees like Rawlings and Louisville Slugger. They manufactured gloves and bats specifically for our players to sign: high quality Steiner originals, truly worthy of the Yankees brand. And we sold these only through official MLB retailers. Everything we were doing was on the up-and-up, and totally legitimate.

  Then, in the spring of 2002, I bumped into my old buddy Billy Rose, after a game at the stadium. In addition to the Sporting Club and his other restaurant ventures, Billy happened to be a limited partner in the Yankees. I'd been his guest in the owner's suite at several games. But this time, we ran into each other in the parking lot.

  “Hey, Billy,” I said. “How's it going?”

  Billy looked a little grim.

  “I don't want anybody to see me talking to you,” he said, looking around. “Your name is coming up around here a lot. You should be careful.”

  Whoa.

  “Be careful about what?” I asked.

  “Just in case you're doing something you shouldn't be doing,” he said. “They're asking around about you.”

  Apparently, the powers that be were still a bit suspicious. I was on George Steinbrenner's radar, but not exactly in the way I had dreamed. It seemed like a good time to meet with the club, to remove the shroud of mystery once and for all.

  Besides, I had long wanted to get my foot in the door there. This was as good an opportunity as any. The question was how to approach the club.

  I had a good relationship with Derek Jeter's agent, Casey Close. So rather than reach out to the Yankees directly, I wanted to go through Casey. He had credibility with the club and I had credibility with him—after doing right by Derek ever since he put his trust in us by signing that multityear deal.

  If you want to get to somebody—or some organization—that's hard to reach, go through someone close to them. Work the back channel.

  Casey delivered. A month later, I was scheduled to meet with him, Yankees General Manager Brian Cashman, President Randy Levine, and COO Lonn Trost.

  As the meeting with the Yankees brass approached, I was nervous. Scared to death, actually. Were they angry with me? What was I going to say? Are they going to take away my season tickets?

  But once we started talking, I realized there had been nothing for me to be afraid of. They were very nice and congenial, if not a little guarded.

  The three officials simply wanted to know more about the Steiner Sports operation. They explained that my name kept popping up when they asked vendors how all these Yankees players' collectibles were coming up for sale online. The club wanted to make sure their fans weren't getting fake, or otherwise substandard, pieces from me. I had nothing to hide, but I understood their concern. How could they trust someone they didn't know? They were all about protecting the Yankees brand.

  “I'm not just freewheeling in this business,” I explained. “In fact, Steiner was purchased by Omnicom.” (Omnicom, a leading holding company in the marketing and communications industries, that has over 500 companies under its umbrella, bought Steiner Sports in 2000.)

  I figured that if the Yankees knew that Steiner was part of the Omnicom family, they'd know that I had to have been operating according to the highest standards. Indeed, the Omnicom name went a long way toward putting them at ease.

  Seeing how protective these gentlemen were of the Yankees brand, I immediately saw an opportunity, a What Else for the Yankees.

  “If you have any questions about what's going on with your merchandise out in the marketplace,” I said, “I can be your eyes and ears. I know this stuff better than anybody. Whose products are legit, who you can trust—and who you have to be careful with.”

  They were receptive to the proposal.

  Then the conversation went in directions I could not have anticipated. We drifted into a more detailed discussion of Steiner Sports' own capabilities.

  This was where Casey really came through. Again.

  “I represent Derek Jeter, and he's one of the biggest names in baseball,” Casey said to Randy, Lonn, and Brian. “We could work with anyone in the collectibles business. We have a lot of choices. But we work with Brandon. I can't think of anyone better suited to representing the Yankees brand.”

  Casey explained that Steiner was not only doing a great job with Derek's collectibles and licensing; we were also giving him a great deal of assistance with his Turn 2 Foundation, which supports programs that help young people turn away from drugs and alcohol and develop healthy lifestyles. Helping Derek with Turn 2 was never part of our official contract with him but we worked on it because it was important to Derek.

  Trust and relationships.

  “The reality is, you can't beat Brandon Steiner,” Casey went on to say. “And if you can't beat him, join him.”

  Sensing my cue, I jumped in.

  I never lack for ideas, so I immediately began listing them enthusiastically—how the Yankees could partner with Steiner Sports to sell things like game-used jerseys and equipment. Autographed bats and balls. Appearances and signings. Official photographs.

  “We could offer dozens of products we probably can't even imagine right now,” I summed up.

  “This sounds promising,” Randy said. “Let's set up another meeting.”

  I was very excited.

  It's Not Whom You Know, or What You Know, but What You Know About Whom

  In addition to collecting memorabilia, I'm a huge collector of people. Of course, there are a lot of people who know a lot of people.

  However, the effective people distinguish themselves by making the most out of those connections. It's not whom you know, or what you know, but what you know about whom—and how you utilize that knowledge.

  Before you try to sell someone on something, make sure you know where their heart is, and what makes them tick. That information is at least as valuable as whatever sales statistics you can offer up.

  I used to find this information the hard way—lots of research and phone calls and meetings. Now, with the instant access to information we have through Google, Facebook, LinkedIn, and similar resources, there's no excuse for not having this information at the ready when you meet someone new.

  We spent the next several months creating in-depth proposals for official Yankees-Steiner products. We had several more meetings. All in all, the talks went on for about two years.

  The deal was complicated; it encompassed players, player products, the YES Network, MLB licensing, retailing, concessions. We spent countless hours talking collectibles with Randy Levine as well as Scott Krug, Yankees CFO, and Adam Raiken, Michael Tusiani, and Marty Greenspun, Executive Vice Presidents. Each detail had to be blessed by multiple departments in both the Yankees organization and Major League Baseball. Lonn and Randy, along with Omnicom CFO Randy Weisenburger, came through big time; those men worked hard to get all the pieces to fit together.

>   Randy Levine took the initiative in developing a Yankees-Steiner collectibles show on YES, which would be instrumental in promoting the new line. Brian Cashman even had me speak at a team meeting in the clubhouse, to explain the Yankees-Steiner partnership to the players. I got to speak to the Yankees in the clubhouse—can you imagine! I was also touched by the knowledge that George Steinbrenner himself had blessed the deal.

  Throughout the process, what intrigued me most was how much time the Yankees put into understanding what we did. They were unbelievably thorough. They asked countless questions about the collectibles process—from the sourcing of the merchandise, to the way it would all be shipped and stored. The Yankees wanted to fully protect against a counterfeit product with their logo entering the market, even 30 or 40 years down the road. They insisted on working very closely with the folks who run the MLB authentication program. A half century from now, there might be no civilization as we know it, and no professional sports, but if there is a Yankees souvenir baseball lying in the post-apocalyptic dirt, you can bet it will be authentic.

  What other company would have its most senior executives spending so much time learning about a retail product line? It would be more lucrative to ease up on this level of diligence, to spend a little less money on processes like authentication. But the Yankees showed such genuine concern over all the ways that our projects might ultimately affect their fans.

  There's a reason their fans are so dogged. The Yankees earn that fealty.

  The Yankees-Steiner partnership was finalized in the fall of 2004 (right before the Yankees playoff collapse versus the Red Sox—more on that later). The deal was officially announced that December.

  The press conference at the stadium felt like a second Bar Mitzvah—an entrance into a sacred, timeless society. I had become a part of something, a little sliver of the Yankees organization. My wife and kids were there; I was glad that they got to see the culmination of the work that had so long consumed me, and at times taken me from them.

  Along with the Yankees officials, Derek Jeter, Mariano Rivera, and Joe Torre were in attendance. As usual, Joe was as warm as could be. We didn't grow up together, but I'm sure he was proud to see another boy from Brooklyn make good. Mo was dressed casually, and Derek busted his balls the whole time, for not dressing up.

  At the end of the presser, Derek pulled me aside.

  “I'm here for you today,” he said. “I'm very happy for you.” What a feeling that gave me.

  The Yankees-Steiner deal was one of the biggest deals the industry has ever seen. I'm proud to say that; it changed the way players, teams, and leagues looked at collectibles.

  I'll never forget the day I went with Sean Mahoney, our EVP of team partnerships, to pick up the first wave of Yankees game-used jerseys that we'd be selling. Never before had anyone made available to fans a full collection of authentic, game-used jerseys from which they could pick and purchase their favorites. We were about to change all that! Plus there were all the other authentic items from Yankee Stadium we were going to sell—everything from bats to the decades-old steamer trunks the jerseys came in. Back at the office, when we unpacked those trunks of Yankee treasure, I think everyone at Steiner felt pretty proud. We were a part of something special.

  So many other teams now have collectibles programs, featuring lines of game-used products and artifacts from stadiums. Yankees-Steiner was ground zero; our deal sent the message that these kinds of product lines are here to stay!

  With many clubs, a deal can fall flat on its face if the team hits a losing streak or has a couple of mediocre years. But the business model we forged is sound enough to keep going strong, whether the Yankees win, lose, or draw. That model is underpinned by the forward thinking of the Yankees organization.

  In the last decade, they built not only a stadium, but also a TV network (YES). They routinely execute first-of-its-kind deals. They see well beyond the New York market, and well beyond the here and now.

  The Yankees could have WHAT ELSE? inscribed in giant capital letters around the top of the Stadium.

  Chapter 11

  The Light in the Other Room

  In the fall of 2004, we were on the cusp of officially launching Yankees-Steiner. We were entrenched in the Yankees. When the team was one out away from winning Game 4 of the American League Championship Series (ALCS) and sweeping the Red Sox, with Mariano on the mound in the ninth, I had been projecting some wild numbers in my head. I assumed they were going to move on and win the World Series; with all the buzz and euphoria of another New York championship, we were going to make a killing. Among other potential windfalls, it was the first year Alex Rodriguez was on the team; so many of our bets were going to pay off. Yankees-Steiner was going to leap right out of the gate, and we were never going to look back!

  So when the Red Sox came back from 0-3 down to rip the ALCS away from the Yankees that October, I was crushed. I was really in a state. I know it was like that for every diehard Yankees fan, but I had the added joy of preparing to watch my newest and biggest deal—the apex of my career—disappear.

  The manner in which the Yankees lost the pennant that year was a collapse of historical proportions. It was the only time a team had come back from a 0-3 deficit like that—ever—and the Yankees were the victims. While the Red Sox celebrated their ALCS Game 7 victory on the Yankees' own field, I wondered if we were going to make a single dollar. What Yankees fan would want to memorialize this? It was like the lights got turned off in my soul. Just like that. Bam.

  Don't get me wrong—I wasn't counting on the Yankees winning the World Series every year to sustain Yankees-Steiner. But this was about as bad a start to a new business venture as I could imagine. I just didn't think people were going to be very interested in buying Yankees memorabilia at that point. I knew how painful the Sox series was for me, so I knew the kind of effect it was going to have on like-minded Yankees fans—the same people I had been counting on to support the new business.

  I felt like the Yankees had taken a huge chance on me. We spent two full years negotiating Yankees-Steiner. I had been living and breathing it. It had been a dream come true. I never wanted to wake up. I wanted to show the Yankees the money—right away. Now I feared I'd be showing them the losses.

  I went into a little coma for a week.

  By the time the Red Sox were up 3-0 against the St. Louis Cardinals in the World Series, I had mostly come to. But I was still a bit depressed and sluggish. The whole office was. We were a sorry bunch of salespeople.

  A staff usually reflects the demeanor of its manager.

  Then, in anticipation of Game 4 and the baseball season coming to a merciful end, I had a realization that would have made my mother proud.

  As bad as it was for Yankees fans just then, it was the best thing that had ever happened to Red Sox fans. Those people suffered from untold sorrows and angst, and with the Red Sox finally beating the Yankees—and in the way they did so—I could only imagine the kind of euphoria Sox fans were feeling.

  When your world gets dark, it's very tough to step back and say, “Wait a minute, there could be a light on in another room.” It might be the toughest What Else challenge in life. But if you can find that other light, it's probably going to help you climb out of your hole.

  So I did the only thing I could think of doing. I got my ass up to Boston, and I started shaping up the Red Sox-Steiner partnership.

  No matter how bad things seem, there's always some good hidden in your situation. Try to view it from an opposite vantage point, and you'll find it.

  The Steiner team stepped up. We went crazy. We had to sign as many Red Sox players as we could, to get as many Sox deals done as possible, before the team won the Series, when we'd be shut out of the market. We worked 24/7, midnight shifts. We went full throttle, and ended up cornering the whole market. It was a proud moment for all of us.

  That fall turned out to be a huge success. That year is still the best sales year we've ever had…thanks to the
loyal and hungry Red Sox fans. We sold over 3,000 collectibles, each signed by one or more members of the team.

  We even sold the home plate from Game 7 of the ALCS, at Yankee Stadium. That plate felt a little like kryptonite to me—I wanted nothing to do with it. But that just proved how much someone else must have coveted it. We pulled it from the ground right after the game, and the whole Red Sox team signed it, with the inscription “The curse was reversed.” It fetched $210,000 for us. Not bad for such a depressing artifact.

  After the World Series had ended, it was important to me to sign every member of the 2004 Red Sox team. There would be no end to the kinds of items fans would want to buy to commemorate a victory for which they had waited for so long, and I felt we needed every player to ensure they'd all be available. It was so important to have the entire market covered.

  While a vast majority of the players were relatively agreeable, pitcher Curt Schilling kept holding us up for more money. He was extremely difficult to interact with, but I still wanted him because I thought we needed everyone. Curt had been a Major League star for a long time. I thought about the famous bloody sock he pitched with during the Yankees series, and how much he seemed to have enmeshed himself in New England. I thought Curt would be loved forever and a day in the region. So we caved to his demands.