In the near-future dystopia of David Foster Wallace’s 1996 novel Infinite Jest, the system of identifying years by number has been abandoned. Instead, each year has a corporate sponsor: “Year of Glad,†“Year of the Trial-Size Dove Bar,†“Year of the Depend Adult Undergarment.â€
This satirizes our often ridiculous tendency to sell naming rights. But in a fragmented narrative that jumps back and forth chronologically, it also serves as an intentional point of confusion. As a reader, you have to work out and keep track of which years come in which order.
That kind of confusion has emerged in the real world, too — especially now that we’re giving the same corporate names to multiple things. Consider that of seven NHL arenas in Canada, two are named Rogers and two Scotiabank (and another used to be named Scotiabank).
Or consider what’s happened just in our own city. The Star recently reported on opening night at the new Rogers Stadium. That’s Rogers Stadium, the concert venue in Downsview, not Rogers Centre, the stadium downtown.
Both are stadiums. Both are big-time concert venues. Both are named for the telecom company Rogers. And they are in very different locations. What could go wrong?
Star reporter Hayden Godfrey spoke with Marcia Bodner, who had travelled here from Pennsylvania for the concert and had booked her hotel — understandably enough — near Rogers Centre. She wound up on an epic Uber trek to get to Rogers Stadium, at the opposite end of the city.
I’m among many local theatregoers who have experienced a version of this. The biggest promoter in the city, Mirvish Productions, owns four theatres. Among them are the CAA Theatre, which is , and the CAA Ed Mirvish Theatre, which is , a 20-minute walk away. Googling any variation of either name gives you jumbled results for both.
And even before the name duplications began, many longtime ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½nians were lost. Because we know most of these places by other names already.
Rogers Centre used to be the SkyDome. Scotiabank Arena used to be the Air Canada Centre.
The CAA Ed Mirvish Theatre used to be just the Ed Mirvish Theatre, and before that it was the Canon Theatre, and before that it was the Pantages Theatre, and for a while in there it was the Imperial Six Theatre.
Most of us have long had to perform mental translations to figure out where an event is taking place: “Rogers Centre. That’s SkyDome, right?†or “Is Scotiabank Arena what they call the ACC now?â€
Meridian Hall? Depending on what vintage of ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½nian you are, you might know it better as the O’Keefe Centre, the Hummingbird Centre or the Sony Centre. The Budweiser Stage used to be the Molson Amphitheatre, which was built where the Ontario Place Forum once stood. The Ford Performance Centre used to be the Mastercard Centre used to be the Lakeshore Lions Arena. Round and round it goes.
How often these names change only emphasizes how useless they are as identifiers. You aren’t buying a car at the Ford Centre or negotiating a mortgage at Scotiabank Arena, and virtually any other way of getting to either CAA theatre would be better than driving to Yonge.
Once upon a time, Exhibition Stadium was at Exhibition Place. The ÎÚÑ»´«Ã½ Maple Leafs played at Maple Leaf Gardens. The SkyDome was a dome that opened to the sky. The names usually had some descriptive quality, and even when they didn’t (hello, Massey Hall and Royal Alex!), they at least endured long enough to cement their association with a particular place.
I’ve long said that we regular citizens are not obligated to call these venues by their corporate advertisers’ names. No one is paying us to rewrite our map of civic memories. Call it SkyDome if you want to. The trouble emerges when you get your tickets and try to decipher where you’re supposed to go.
Sponsors and venues should clue in to the value of people knowing what they’re talking about. At least go with names like “Rogers SkyDome†or “Rogers Downsviewâ€Â or “BMO Exhibition Stadium.â€
Maybe that’s not distinctive enough for the marketing whiz kids. But if I booked a hotel across the city from my venue (or worse, showed up at the wrong venue) because some corporation gave two places barely distinguishable names, it would erode any brand goodwill they’d hoped to buy.
In a dystopian novel, something that’s intentionally confusing can be effective. In navigating real-world entertainment destinations, it’s plain ridiculous.
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