Jonah Sachs - Unsafe Thinking: How to be Nimble and Bold When You Need It Most

The press conference ended in a burst of choreographed and festive chaos. Two goats stood nervously on the stage next to a few caged hedgehogs as confetti fell from the ceiling.

The occasion was the announcement of a new name for a minor-league baseball team that was about to move into a brand-new $56 million stadium in downtown Hartford, Connecticut. The team, which was supposed to reinject pride into a long-suffering community, would be known as the Yard Goats. The Hedgehogs had been a close runner-up.

Some in the crowd responded with a forced and tepid cheer. Others stood silently, perplexed.

Reaction was swift and merciless. Worst thing I ever heard of, snarled an eighty-seven-year-old man who had been a dedicated fan of the team, formerly known as the Rock Cats. He vowed never to watch another game. Twitter lit up with derision. Some suggested the name was an affront to the citys growing population of Jamaicans, many of whom raised and ate goats. Some 6,000 names, submitted to a crowd-sourced contest, had been considered. Somehow this one had risen to the top. Yard Goats? the fans demanded. Thats the best you could do?

To Jason Klein everything was going exactly according to plan. The anger and rejection that greeted his creations never felt good exactly, but by now he knew this type of response signaled that he had struck a nerve. The people of El Paso, Texas, had been angered when he named their team the Chihuahuas. The people of Lehigh, Pennsylvania, and Richmond, Virginia, had received the Iron Pigs and the Flying Squirrels with the same ire. Under pressure from fans, Kleins clients had often considered abandoning the brands he created for them and ending their relationship with his firm. But within a year, in all these cities and dozens more where his firms touch had been felt, sales of team merchandise had shot off the charts, setting minor-league sales records. People bought hats adorned with a slab of bacon, not just in Lehigh but across the country. They ate nachos out of dog bowls at the Chihuahuas games and then proudly displayed the empties on their mantels at home. These franchises generated buzz, and profits, that teams with respectable names, like the San Jose Giants, simply couldnt keep up with.

If youre feeling nervous, thats a good spot to be in, Klein says. Stuff people expect gets forgotten quickly. On their mental computers they drag it right to the Ive seen it before folder. And then its game over.

For many minor-league franchises, game over was becoming a real possibility. With the proliferation of competing entertainment options available in smaller towns and a decline in baseball interest, owners had been looking instinctively to the still-thriving major leagues to figure out how to compete. But Klein and his firm Brandiose turned that obvious approach on its head. Minor-league teams, he reasoned, provide local family entertainment. The minors, he evangelized, can either be second-rate sport or first-rate spectacle. This assertion may offend die-hard fans, but Kleins work has had enormous influence in the industry. Announcing their name change away from the Braves, the president of the newly minted Richmond Flying Squirrels stepped up to the microphone and said, Id like to address the media for a moment. People are questioning whether were in the baseball business or the circus business. Let me be really clear, were in the circus business.

The names Klein chooses to create spectacle arent as random as they might appear. The Yard Goats makes a very logical kind of sense for Hartford. You just have to change your perspective a bit to see it. The moniker refers to the small cars that pulled larger trains through the railyards decades ago. The scrappy sound of the name invokes a spirit of stubbornness and irreverence, traits that Hartford residents enthusiastically cite to describe their citys character. Because the name sounds so wrong at first, but so right once you stop to think about it, the Yard Goats would soon become an inside joke that only Hartforders would get. And thats why the name ultimately worked.

Klein could have made the citizens of Hartford and his client momentarily happy with a safer team name like the Huckleberries, the choice of Hartford Courant readers, in honor of Mark Twains history in the city. He would have gotten the high fives and the approval were all after. And his firm would almost certainly be struggling in a sea of sameness now. Instead, he has found a way to overcome his natural bias to seek safety and approval. In doing so hes sparked a revolution of growth in what was becoming a stagnant industry.

Klein is an unsafe thinker. He chose not to freeze in the face of the rapid changes tearing minor-league baseball apart. Rather, he saw the turmoil as an opportunity. He approached the problem with a spirit of courage and playfulness that he knew industry experts wouldnt accept and would thus put his reputation at risk. And in doing so, he discovered a kind of genius in the bizarre and counterintuitive form of Iron Pigs, Flying Squirrels, and Yard Goats.

But why are there so few Jason Kleins out there? Why do a small number of individuals and organizations consistently thrive in conditions of rapid change while so many more attain a certain level of success only to get stuck in a rut? Why do so few of us take a flexible, nimble approach to unfamiliar challenges while the rest of us hold on to outdated or incremental solutions? Why, when the need for bold, intelligent risks becomes obvious, do we instinctively reach for safety and stability?

In 2013, when I first heard about Klein, these questions were becoming urgent to the point of obsession for me. The advertising company Id founded was on the verge of collapse. Our problem came down to our fixation on a so-called creative process that was crushing our creativity. Whats worse, it was all my fault.