I Once Tried to Get Michael Vick a Gigantic, 200-Pound Dog.

About 20 years ago, I tried to get Mike Vick a free dog. (No, I’m not Kristi Noem.) In my defense, this was waaaay before we were aware of the dogfighting allegations (I like dogs!). I didn’t know Vick that well at the time. And honestly, I still don’t know him very well.

After a brief back-and-forth negotiation, my PR agency flew me to Virginia Beach to hammer out an agreement with Vick’s attorney, and we quickly agreed to an arrangement where we’d represent Vick on PR matters while also maintaining “category exclusivity” for certain endorsement deals. At the time, Vick was a huge name in the NFL — legitimately one of the top stars. Under the deal (if I remember right), our agency would retain 15 percent of “approved” endorsement deals in these open categories, which we projected would generate a great deal of income for everyone. We envisioned building “The Michael Vick Experience” into a Jordan-eqsue cash cow that kept the endorsement dollars rolling in.

I didn’t actually meet Vick until our first PR event together. It was early in the 2004 preseason, and I arranged for Maxim magazine to fly to Atlanta and do an interview (plus photoshoot) for their annual NFL season preview issue. Back then, Maxim was a very influential outlet for college-aged men, so it was a pretty nice PR opportunity. Vick was slated to be their featured attraction.

But the Maxim event went … poorly. Very, very poorly. 

Sigh.

In the early 2000s, magazines still had large budgets for celebrity photoshoots. So Maxim flew in a photographer from Ireland and spent $20,000 to create beautiful black falcon wings for Vick to wear. The concept was that Vick would be portrayed as an avenging angel, coming to rescue the Atlanta Falcons from NFL mediocrity. 

Personally, I thought it was VERY cool-looking (and a wonderful way to showcase Vick to the corporate VPs we were hoping to pitch).

Unfortunately, a few of the guys in Vick’s entourage were vocal about the wings looking “[derogatory word for homosexuals].” And thus, Vick refused to wear them. 

Maxim was not pleased.

Their sports editor pulled me aside and told me that if he doesn’t wear the wings, they’ll just photoshop them on in postproduction. Vick had already signed the release form, so Maxim could do what they wanted anyway. And that’s exactly what they did.

Anyway, during this debacle, I was chatting with Vick’s peeps, and I mentioned that I had just adopted an awesome new dog — an American Mastiff — and according to the breeder, he’d probably max out in the low 200 pounds. And, man, their eyes lit up.

One of them pulled me aside and told me that Mike Vick was a massive dog lover. Vick grew up poor, this person said, and his family couldn’t afford pets, so now that he was a wealthy football star, his favorite pastime was playing with his dogs.

In fact, they told me, he had a lot of dogs — dozens upon dozens — all living on a gorgeous, secluded property far away from everyone else. Vick's entourage made it sound like a positive thing: Mike was simply a country boy at heart, they told me, and I never had to worry about him screwing around with women or getting into trouble because all he did in the offseason was hang out on this property, fish, play video games, and bond with his dogs. 

Then they asked me if I could get Mike a 200-pound dog, too.

So I tried: There was an American Mastiff Yahoo Message Group that I belonged to that also included a bunch of breeders. I posted a message saying that I represented a famous athlete who’d love an American Mastiff puppy. But in true celebrity fashion, instead of paying for the puppy, he was hoping to get one for free in exchange for an endorsement.

I didn’t explicitly use Vick’s name, but I didn’t lie: I was upfront that he already had dozens of dogs. I also didn’t imply that I had inspected his property and could vouch for its condition (although, obviously, caring for multiple dogs was well within Vick’s financial capabilities). I simply did what I told my client I’d do, and that was forward his request to the American Mastiff breeders.

Thank the Lord Almighty, all the breeders turned me down.

Their consensus opinion was that if this celebrity already had 40 or so dogs, there was absolutely no way he could adequately care for them all. Furthermore, the cost of not adequately caring for an ultra-powerful, jumbo-sized animal could be catastrophic. They also identified other danger signs that I hadn’t considered.

One breeder did offer him a puppy, but only on the condition that she would be allowed to visit the property and inspect it on her own. As I’m sure you can guess, that offer was rejected.

This was very, very early in my PR career, and it taught me some valuable lessons:

1. Your own clients will deceive you. 
2. When the facts change, your opinions should change with them.
3. Landing a big-name client is awesome, but it’s never worth losing your credibility over.
4. Karma isn’t immediate. Sometimes it never comes. But man, when it starts knocking, you better answer the door.
5. Be nice to dogs.

Interestingly, these lessons have political utility as well:

1. When you advocate for conservative candidates, keep in mind the limitations of your own knowledge. Politicians are people, and people are inherently flawed. You never truly “know” anyone from afar. Sometimes, they’ll let you down.
2. It’s important to have heartfelt convictions and firm beliefs, but unless your information is perfect and absolute, there’s a chance you missed something critical. Be smart enough to know what you’re dumb at. An ounce of humility makes you a much better thinker.
3. The candidate with the most Name I.D. during the summer isn’t necessarily the best candidate to win in November.
4. Time heals all wounds… and time wounds all heels. (But not always on the timetable you hope.)
5. Jeez, Kristi Noem — next time, let me edit your manuscript BEFORE you send it out.

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