It could be the biggest beer bash you’ll probably never be invited to attend. 

A tradition in the business: Every year, usually in the spring ahead of the summer selling season, the major brewers invite all their distributor partners* (or the two or three from each operation lucky enough to be tapped to make the trip) to a national convention that’s part showbiz, part salesmanship, part… party. How big a party? This week in San Diego, parts of city streets will be closed to the public to allow 3,750 MillerCoors beer guys to get off the sidewalks and party like... they're in New Orleans!

Normally two days in length, these events feature large-scale gatherings where the audience is treated to brewery- management business reviews (usually kept to the barest minimum lest eyes begin to glaze over), multi-media entertainment accompanied by hard-driving music (in case some eyes have glazed over), and celebrity appearances. Actors, sports figures, even military heroes. Keeping the audience's excitement level high is a key objective.

The real climax of the meeting comes when brand plans and initiatives for the coming season are revealed. This is when the marketing folks take center-stage. Carefully developed presenter scripts and hours of rehearsal culminate at showtime. Now the real drama behind all the hoopla begins to unfold.

Months of advertising planning-- from strategy development through concept exploration to commercial production--amounting to thousands of hours of meetings and countless late-nights all comes down to a single moment. It's not the moment the new commercial is shown, it's the moment right after it's shown.

While distributors aren't advertising experts, like everybody else, they know what they like. Generally speaking, guy humor, attractive women, sports heroes, and hot music please them. In the few seconds after the ads run on enormous theater screens, the brewery guys are on pins and needles waiting for audience reaction. I've seen it range from stunned silence to thunderous applause. The former can mean there's going to be plenty of work ahead modifying ads that took so long to get to this point; the latter puts you in a good mood for the street party.

No one who's ever been to a beer convention will soon forget the experience. It's the highlight of any beer guy's year. And maybe that alone makes all the effort worthwhile. 

We recently published an article here about craft-beer labels. It seemed to us a double-standard existed whereby Big Beer played by stringent label rules established years ago, but craft beers were getting a pass.

Why so nasty?

We expected the article to stimulate discussion, perhaps even controversy, and we weren't disappointed. But we were less prepared for a barrage of truly nasty, personal name-calling hurled our way. Simply because we dared speak critically of an aspect of the craft-beer world. In spite of our statement at the end of the article that no brewery people were involved or aware of the article in advance, we were even accused of being on the take. "Troll" was among the nicer epithets (one we'll no doubt see again). 

Here's more of the bile from the comments section where the article was re-published.

To be sure, the internet is no place for the timid, so we took all the mean-spiritedness in stride. Hey, it's just beer. But looked at another way, so many craft-beer drinkers so quick to spew viral venom toward any critic could stifle the momentum of their favorite beers. It's a matter of simple marketing.

Beer = sociability

Most beer is consumed in social settings where bonhomie and good times are the norm. Traditional beer advertising routinely celebrated this camaraderie. And generally speaking, back then, comments from one drinker to another about someone's beer choice-- if they were made at all-- were amusing and playful. Possibly because, before the internet, aggressive opinions on another guy's brand of beer, delivered face-to-face, could end in fisticuffs.

So, to the extent distinctly unsocial commentary and social-media snarkiness begin to be associated with craft beer in general, it's not just unbecoming, it's alienating. Whether in the form of unrelenting snide commentary about Big Beer, or hyper-ventilating reactions to even mild criticism of an aspect of the craft business, "socially welcoming" it is not.

Disingenuous?

Same goes for "disingenuous." If the craft beer movement really is all about seeing that people can enjoy interesting, more flavorful beer, what difference does it make who brews it? Brands like Shock Top, Goose Island, and Blue Moon are good beers, and perceived as such in blind taste tests. Tarring and feathering them simply because of their corporate parentage-- as is customary in craft-drinker commentary-- is thoroughly disingenuous. Would Sierra Nevada suddenly cease to be good beer if Heineken purchased the company?

An inviting personality

Marketers rightly obsess about creating an inviting brand personality. What sense does it make to cultivate an insufferable, self-righteous, disingenuous persona? No matter how good the beer, a personality that annoys people can put a finite-- and unnecessary-- limit on craft growth. Maybe that's why two respected craft brewers* got in touch with us, and distanced themselves from the kind of criticism we experienced. No doubt they appreciate the wisdom behind this longtime Anheuser-Busch slogan, apt no matter the size of the brewery:

Think about it. In a dramatic marketing miscalculation, Big Beer allowed important beer attributes to slip from its grasp. Craft brewers seized this historic opportunity, and now, as a category, own some highly valuable space in the consumer mindset. "Flavorful," "higher in alcohol," and "carefully brewed" belong to the new guys.

Why on earth would any craft lover want to add "insufferable attitude" to that remarkable list?