Part IV – The Reveal
I knew the time between announcing the four finalists and introducing the new name would be challenging, but I didn’t expect the backlash to feel so personal. Phone calls, emails, and letters came in relentlessly. A common refrain was, “Go back to New York, you’re ruining our team!” or “Ask your alma mater for a refund on your tuition.” (Go JMU Dukes).
Despite the criticism, I tried to find the good in every comment. One fan angrily suggested, “You’re ruining this team. Might as well make the players wear pink jerseys next year.” Rather than engage with this clearly misogynistic remark, we turned it into a positive, adding pink jerseys to our promotional calendar for Breast Cancer Awareness Night. It went on to become one of the most successful events on the Modesto Nuts’ schedule every year.
But the most memorable attack came from a post on a local entertainment website that simply read, “Shove it up your ass, Gorrasi.” To this day, my friends from New York still quote that line in our group chat at least once a month.
I’d be lying if I said the backlash didn’t get to me. Naively, I believed the franchise had enough goodwill in the community to be given the benefit of the doubt. Confidently, I also knew that our small but mighty front office staff would make the new brand a success when given the chance.
As the votes made it clear that "Nuts" would be the winner, we engaged heavily with our designer, Dan Simon from Studio Simon. Dan is one of the best sports designers in the world, and he was fully committed to helping us nail the logo. Sports Brand Identity Development | Studio Simon | United States
More Than Just a Word
The logo was crucial. When people heard "Nuts," they filled in the blanks with their own associations—some thought of Central Valley agriculture, while others conjured up images of male genitalia or derogatory slurs related to mental health. We needed the logo to steer people away from those negative connotations and give the name the context it deserved.
I told Dan, “I’m getting killed out here, and I need this logo to be a home run.” We discussed creating multiple characters and debated what to do with our Modesto A’s mascot, PeaNUT. Although the A’s name wasn’t ours, PeaNUT had been the face of the franchise for years. Ultimately, we kept PeaNUT for a couple of seasons before phasing him out.
Designing the Future
As the deadline loomed, Dan sent over several concepts. We quickly agreed that Direction B was the way to go. I immediately vetoed the green cap—my ties to the A’s were officially cut. There was a lot of back-and-forth on how many characters to feature in the logo. I pushed for three, but Dan, being the expert, convinced me that two would make a cleaner, more effective design. He was right. We eventually replaced the peanut with an almond to better reflect the Central Valley.
I felt confident about the new branding, but I knew the hard part—bringing it to life—was just beginning. Before the official reveal, I reached out to a couple of key community figures for support. First, I met with the CEO of the Modesto Chamber of Commerce, who had always been a strong partner. He was the first person outside our organization to see the logo. His reaction was positive, and he committed to speaking at the upcoming press conference. I also met with the Mayor of Modesto, who had supported our previous efforts, and he too complimented the branding and agreed to speak at the press conference.
Press Conference Setback
We opted for a private press conference to kick off the Nuts era, broadcast live on ESPN 970, the station that aired our games. We directed fans to our website for more details since video streaming wasn’t an option yet.
The night before the press conference, the CEO of the Chamber called. His board advised him not to attend. It was a gut punch. Just when I thought we were turning the tide, another setback. The next morning, the Mayor’s office sent word that he wouldn’t attend either. I was heading to the podium with two strikes already against me.
At the press conference, I emphasized the importance of agriculture to our community and why we chose a name that honored the family farms of the Central Valley. I walked through the logo’s details, explaining how the red "M" on the mascot's hats was a nod to the old Modesto Reds, and the arch in the logo mirrored the famous Modesto Arch downtown. I emphasized that we now had a brand that was completely ours—one that wasn’t tied to any Major League affiliate. I even envisioned how a young fan in New Jersey or Alabama might buy a Nuts hat and learn that the Central Valley feeds the world.
The press conference went well, and fans flocked to the website, buying t-shirts and showing early support.
The Media Reaction
The next day, I got a crash course in the difference between reporters and columnists. Our long-time beat writer, Brian VanderBeek, wrote a fair and straightforward article. He recounted the press conference accurately, including my full quote about fans in New Jersey or Alabama buying our hats and learning about Modesto. His piece was measured and balanced—exactly what I expected from someone who had covered the team for years.
Then, there was the columnist. Instead of conveying the spirit of what I had said, he cherry-picked part of my quote and twisted it. “Baseball fans in New Jersey and Alabama will buy our hats,” was how he presented it, and suddenly, I was painted as the out-of-touch executive, selling out the community for a quick buck. The column accused us of making the name change as a pure cash grab, calling it a disgrace to the region’s history and heritage.
It stung. I understood that not everyone would love the name, but I didn’t expect to be characterized as a corporate villain who cared more about marketing than Modesto. It was as if the heart of our intention—to create something that reflected the community’s agricultural roots—was deliberately ignored. The article ran with an insinuation that we had sold out the town’s identity, and it began to sway some of the people who had been on the fence.
A few days later, the local newspaper’s cartoonist added his own spin. He sketched a caricature of a front-office executive standing in a mascot uniform with the head resting on a desk. The title: “Loss Leader.” It was a sharp dig at the idea that we were sacrificing the team’s integrity for financial gain. The image stung as much as the words did as it felt like a deep jab at my leadership. As a now 27-year old, yet to have completed his first year as a General Manager, I started using these slights as motivation.
Turning the Tide
Despite the harsh reception from some corners of the local media, I found a silver lining at the Baseball Winter Meetings, where the response to the rebrand was overwhelmingly positive. Within the industry, everyone understood the potential and creativity behind the name. For the first time in months, I felt validated—like all the work, the vision, and the risk we had taken were being appreciated by my peers.
While Modesto’s press might have had mixed feelings, the larger baseball world saw the Modesto Nuts as a bold, fresh identity. The conversations at the meetings were filled with excitement about the merchandising opportunities, the playful nature of the name, and the possibilities for community engagement.
It was reassuring to know that outside of our local bubble, people saw the same potential in the Nuts brand that we did. But back home, the challenge of winning over our community—and surviving the media scrutiny—was far from over.
I could have used Taylor's advice in 2004
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