Spud Webb and Pony's Hidden History

It never hurt anyone's Tuesday to watch a pair of old sneaker ads, especially when one contains a real history lesson. To that end, here's two from dark horse (har, har) Pony that are well worth your time. Pony's rarely thought of as a power player -- they're just another one of the funny little organisms wiped out by the mass extinction Jordan wrought. But the actual story is a little trickier than that.

I hope you come away from this post with admiring their hustle at the time, or at least their shamelessness. According to Sports Design Blog, Pony's City Wings were a direct reaction to the AJ1. Pony tried to adapt in the goofiest way possible: they made a shoe that looked like the Air Jordan 1 and stressed the new, above-the-rim game. Depending on how charitable you are, Pony either tried to follow the trends, or just became a well-funded knock-off line.

It's hardly a stretch, especially when the ad (after the jump) features endless chatter about jumping and changing stuff, not to mention the overly-familiar CIty WIngs themselves. Orlando Woolridge opens it up with some impressive, long-limbed slams, before handing the ball over to Spud Webb. Woolridge is an interesting choice, seeing as he was on the Bulls with Jordan at the time. After that opening act, Spud ceremoniously laces up his Wings -- note the loving close-up -- and takes off, skies for what seems like an eternity, and finally stuffs the ball in.



I guess Webb's size made him an everyman, but only because his dunking was relatively pedestrian. In Nate Robinson, today's small-fry of choice, his ability to pull off moves of a larger man makes him almost superhuman. As well we should think of Nate.



Share One other note: Sports Design also points to the Magic Johnson/Larry Bird Converse Weapons as a post-Air Jordan phenomenon. The dates may match up, but once you see the City Wing, the bar has been set pretty high in the rip-off department. Those were still kicks sold through the force of Bird and Magic's personalities and games, neither of which was tailored to fit the Jordan-ized zeitgeist.

And now, for a less scholarly, more lively bonus, here's over a minute of breakin', Pony electo-jingles, and a poorly exposed tall dude who may or may not be Daryl Dawkins. Dawkins had a shoe with the company, although at one point, he donned one Pony, one Nike because contracts didn't bother to prohibit that kind of silliness. It just goes to show that Jordan didn't just inspire sneakers, he made over the entire industry in his own cutthroat image.



For the record, that's over a minute of dancing, bouncing, and just generally having fun, with a player (maybe) thrown in for good measure at the end. Terribly executed by today's standards. But looking back, it's hard to not mouth mournful cliches like "the day the music died" or, as I'm on a major Don Henley kick, "the end of the innocence."