When logos go wrong

Early Efforts

Logos from the early days of sports are naturally going to look quaint to modern eyes, like silent films or Model T Fords. At the same time, humans were drawing realistic animals on cave ceilings 20,000 years ago, so we should expect early 20th century artists to at least be able to render a realistic looking elephant.

Doing It Right: Detroit Red Wings, NHL, 1930s

The Red Wings logo dates from 1932, the heart of the Great Depression and an era when most major league baseball teams were still grappling with the challenges of legible Gothic letters. You have cool wings, a wheel to represent Detroit, awesome spokes, and a simple, vibrant color scheme. Done! Eighty years later, all the team has had to do is tweak the tire a little.

Now, check out the Maple Leafs from roughly the same era and 230 miles away:

Toronto Maple Leafs, NHL, 1920s

There’s a maple tree right outside my office, so I know what a maple leaf looks like. Your typical Canadian in the 1920s no doubt knew what a maple leaf looks like. That doesn’t look like a maple leaf. If I see a leaf like this on my front lawn, I may call the DEA or some college buddies over for a Scooby Doo marathon, but I don’t try to tap a trunk to make syrup.

Philadelphia Athletics, MLB, 1920

The primitive humans who painted the ceiling of the Lascaux cave created lifelike, energetic images of giant mammals, working in near-total darkness and using tools so crude that they may have been spitting paint through a hollow plant stem onto rock. Armed with 20th century technology and the resources of the most popular sports team in one of America’s largest cities, the Philadelphia Athletics doodled a wobbly blue elephant that would not look out of place in a kindergarten art fair, except that OH MY GOD THERE ARE FIVE APPENDAGES HANGING BENEATH THE ELEPHANT AND ONLY FOUR CAN BE LEGS WHICH MEANS THE FIFTH OH GOD OH GOD OH GOD.

Chicago Cubs, MLB, 1908

It was a gloomy day in the Hundred Acre Wood when Pooh-Bear realized that he had brought shame upon his family of animal friends. “Silly old bear,” Christopher Robin said, “I hope you will do the honorable thing.” “Oh bother,” Pooh-Bear replied, “I must commit Seppuku.” Casting his honeypot aside, the tubby cubby plunged a katana into his belly. Fluff gushed out like a fountain, covering the woods in a fuzzy layer of stuffing. “Way to go out like a man, Buddy Bear, woo-hoo-hoo!” Tigger said, and they all strolled off to Rabbit’s house for tea.