So. A couple of weeks ago I went and saw the Savannah Bananas.

We waited for nine months in the lottery for a CHANCE to buy tickets. When we got a spot, I was excited. When the MOST EXPENSIVE tickets were $60, I was pretty amazed — not what I expected given that they were selling out major league ballparks. We got our tickets and had another couple of months to wait until game day.

Now, I was pretty excited about this thing. I’d watched some videos online — we’ve all seen them dancing, singing, and the guy on stilts. The games on TV are pretty common in one of our local hangouts.

But I hadn’t watched TONS of content. As a rule, if I’m going to go do a thing, I want to know a bit, but I don’t want to ruin the sense of discovering something new by knowing too much. (I also NEVER watch how a movie is made — I just want that thing to be magic, and knowing ruins that.)

I watched just enough to know it looked fun and completely different from anything I’d seen or done before.

To say I was really looking forward to it was a bit of an understatement, and my honest worry was that I’d oversold the idea in my own head and everything after that would fall short. I couldn’t have been more wrong.

If anything, I’d undersold it by about 10x.

I happily spent from 2:30 p.m. until 10 p.m. immersed in something that would be difficult to adequately explain. (Anyone ever been to Meow Wolf and tried to explain THAT to someone?)

The level of entertainment and engagement with people, and the absolute chaos and joy, was… something to behold. So many things were happening at once that you could literally forget they were still playing baseball until you found yourself trying to figure out why there was a ball in the field.

I’m here to tell you: when you watch it on TV, the baseball seems like the important part.

Not even close.

I saw a cast of characters sign what seemed like a million baseballs, visit with and entertain spectators in every section of the stadium, from the top to the bottom. At one point, someone on the field was catching actual bananas — thrown from the very top sections of the stadium — in their pants. That is apparently a thing.

There was a band playing from the third level. A water balloon fight involving both teams in the middle of an inning. Music. Singing. Dancing. A rock band. A pep band? Kids and families pulled into the action.

Every opportunity to create fan interaction was taken. I could make a whole list, but I don’t want to ruin the surprises for anyone else either.

And the whole time, I didn’t see one person who made me think, “That guy wants to be anywhere else.” No one was phoning it in. This thing happened with a level of enthusiasm I’ve seldom witnessed.

They truly created an experience.

There’s a book about what they did and why. I haven’t read it yet, but it’s on its way to my house.

Creating Experiences.

I think in the gaming industry we use those words a lot.

In advertising, we use those words a lot.

In talking about how our players have changed, we use those words a lot.

“This new audience is interested in experiences and not just our slot machines.”

Most of the time, what we mean is that we want players to participate in a lot of the things we have to offer.

Hey, stay at our hotel, have a nice meal, play some games, go to a concert. Ta-da! Experience!

In marketing, most often it means we try to package that idea: Hey, come here for three things, not one — it can be an experience.

But I think that’s more like going to a regular baseball game. I love those too, btw. They’re playing baseball, and I get to watch. I’m going to have an ice-cold beer and probably some popcorn. I’ll visit Sue, the great lady who plays the organ at Twins games.

I went and did their things and really created my own experience. I moved in their space. It was enjoyable. I’ll do it again.

BUT it’s not surprising or magical. The Bananas did something different.

They brought the experience TO everyone.

They didn’t play baseball and then let me choose to watch it. They figured out how to make the entire day about the audience.

Did you know that in Banana Ball, a fan-caught foul ball in the stands is an out on the field?

I am in play?!?

That happened a record TEN times the day I attended. All of those fans were at some point brought onto the field to be recognized.

Fans First

It was about entertaining 39,000 people, interacting with as many people as possible, and making something truly memorable.

And I think there’s a nugget there that our industry could learn something from.

We don’t sell products. You’re not going home with anything. We’re selling experiences.

So maybe the question we should be asking isn’t just, “What do we have for our guests to do?”

Maybe it’s:

Are we letting guests move through our space, or are we bringing something TO them?

What could we do that would actually create something surprising and extraordinary?

What if creating those moments wasn’t a promotion, an event, or something we occasionally added to the calendar?

What if it became part of the DNA of the property? Because an experience isn’t just the sum of the amenities we offer.

It’s what we deliberately make happen for someone while they’re there.

THAT could be something truly special.