“An audience will watch you die in a fight; a community will jump in to help you win it.” – Unknown Social Media Manager
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When I was a teenager, one of the things that got me through those long Michigan winters was going to Joe Louis Arena with my cousin and my uncle to watch the Detroit Red Wings play.
For a kid who regularly overdosed on sports, seeing the Red Wings play, in person, was like watching greatness take the ice every night. You always expected to see something magical.
And, unlike some arenas, Joe Louis Arena never felt like a monstrosity of concrete and metal that housed professional hockey and the occasional Disney On Ice Spectacular. There was a quaintness and warmth to the building that was hard to explain, but I believe it stemmed from the sense of community that existed among the 20,000 fans in attendance.
There was the kid who sat behind us in the nosebleeds who scurried down the steep stairwell during breaks in play to grab juice for him and his dad. We secretly nicknamed him “Cold Juice.”
There was the woman in the lower bowl who knitted during the action. She was collectively called “The Knitting Lady.”
There was the guy who walked down from his ‘standing room only’ spot to show off his funky dance moves for the crowd. The name on the back of his Red Wings jersey was “Mo Cheese”.
And then there was the guy in the bright orange hat who attended every home game. His nickname, appropriately enough, was “The Orange Hat Guy.”
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A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post that ripped “The Bold and Digital Group” for creating a social media calendar, citing that the only purpose it served (besides raising money for a good cause, which I am totally behind) was to increase the level of popularity of the men featured in the calendar. I argued that the last thing I wanted to see social media become was just another popularity contest.
But then David Armano left a comment that got me thinking about my way of thinking.
David wrote that social media is a logical extension of human interaction, amplifying human dynamics to the point that what we do online is a direct reflection of how we act offline.
Even though I stick to the original intent of my blog post, I was glad David took the time to leave a comment, because he has fundamentally shifted how I view this whole social media business.
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On Tuesday, October 19, the Guy in the Orange Hat permanently gave up his season ticket, perhaps preferring a spot in the heavens overlooking his favorite hockey team.
While a fan passing away doesn’t elicit a response from a typical professional sports team, the Red Wings are not a typical sports team.
They value their community.
To honor Orange Hat Guy, the team draped an orange hat over his chair and covered it in orange material, which will remain in place through the end of the season. Some of the fans who sat next to him through the years even wore their own orange hats in his memory, further cementing my theory that a community exists inside Joe Louis Arena, not just thousands of fans from different walks of life converging together for three hours to watch a hockey game.
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I started blogging way back in 2002, on a site called LiveJournal. I was introduced to this site by a friend who already had an account. I was instantly hooked. It was nothing serious. Just a place for me to vent and express the frustrations of life as a full-time waiter. I held nothing back and wrote quite a bit. As a result, I created a very small following. I mean, we’re talking like 4 or 5 people. But they were a community, none the less. They became my audience.
One thing that come out of my experience on LiveJournal, aside from a break-up and falling for a carefully planned ruse from somebody who wasn’t who they said they were, was the idea of what blogging was all about: building a community; writing for somebody other than yourself.
The problem was that I never realized it.
My last post on LiveJournal was most likely written around the time I started this “professional” blog. And I vowed that this blog would never mirror my other, less professional, journal.
That was mistake #1.
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I’ve always been a sarcastic person. And when I’m hiding behind the veil of my computer screen, it’s easy to kick up the sarcasm a couple of notches.
But when I wrote the post on the social media calendar, I think I crossed the line. My fierce judgment got the best of me.
That’s not how blogs are supposed to function.
I mean, there is a time and a place for strong opinions and carefully thought out words, but I should not have emptied the chamber for that.
And after watching how the Orange Hat Guy and Joe Louis Arena function within their own little community, I came to something resembling a conclusion: I want people to wear orange hats when I’m gone. (You know, metaphorically speaking.) I don’t want to be known as the opinionated blogger who targets others. I’ll leave that to Perez Hilton.
So, if you’ve made it this far and are a regular reader of this blog, know that I will strive to make this a community, because I think that is where we will all find value. I will do my best to make it so.
All it took was a guy dying to show me the way.
If that’s not a lesson, I don’t know what is.