"New Coke," Round 2

While there are some folks who think it was all part of a plot to increase the company's so-called "share of stomach," most believe that the legendary New Coke debacle was just a case of marketing panic taken to the nth degree.

As a reminder, Coca-Cola decided to sweeten up its flagship product to gag-worthy levels to blunt the modestly successful "Pepsi Challenge" spots. The hue and cry that arose over this syrupy switch made it clear that a big mistake had been made.

But, the company couldn't bring itself to admit that it was wrong. So, it kept the new formula under the Coke name, and reintroduced the old version under the name "Coca-Cola Classic." Eventually, the company dropped the new formula, removed the word "Classic" from the original, and soft drinkers everywhere were like Pam Ewing on the TV show "Dallas," awakening to find her two-season-dead husband, Bobby, drying off after a shower. In Pam's own words, "It all seemed so real..."

The National Basketball Association had its New Coke moment this season as it kicked the familiar leather ball to the curb in favor of a micro fiber composite ball it claimed would improve both ball-handling and scoring. (If there's one thing the NBA needs, it's more scoring...)

The fans yawned, but the players balked. They said the new ball was slippery (not exactly a ball-handling benefit) and that its surface caused the equivalent of paper cuts. The NBA brass trotted out the expected line, "It'll just take time to get used to..." But, after a while, the league realized it was creating an issue among its workforce that just wasn't worth the fight.

Spaulding, the maker of this ball and the previous one, issued a "you're wrong, but whatever..." statement when it said, "We believe the micro fiber composite ball offers many superior characteristics to leather, however we firmly support any decision that improves player satisfaction."

The NBA, to its credit, went further and said that the change was a mistake, and that the old ball would return on January 1, 2007. It was a victory for common sense over pride, and will make the "new" NBA ball little more than a collectable for people who also have a Fox Trax glowing puck and some Charlie Finley orange baseballs on the shelf in their rumpus rooms. What lessons does it teach communicators?

• Mistakes don't age well. The problem clearly wasn't going to go away, because more and more players were expressing their concerns. While it's a bit curious that it's taking three weeks to make the switch, at least they didn't appoint some "Blue Ribbon" committee to study it after the season. They took action now.
• A mistake is just that. The league put this to bed quickly by having its commissioner, David Stern, say, "Hey, we goofed." It's not a disagreement, a difference of opinion, a product problem, or anything else. It's a mistake. Say it clearly, and the discussion about it ends quickly.
• Leaders lead. Stern realized that this change was having a negative impact on those who deliver his league's multimillion dollar entertainment product. He didn't have some C-level equipment exec make the announcement. Rather, he stepped to the mic. Case closed.

The message? If your gut says "we goofed," handle it promptly, professionally and publicly. The sooner you take your medicine, the faster the cure.