Узнайте, как Дитрих Матешиц превратил Ред Булл в мировую сенсацию с помощью экстрима и гениального маркетинга! В этом видео рассказываем об инновационных подходах к продвижению, которые сделали Ред Булл символом энергии и адреналина. Погрузитесь в захватывающую историю успеха, наполненную экстремальными проектами и уникальными бизнес-стратегиями. Это не просто напиток, это образ жизни, который вдохновляет миллионы людей по всему миру. Откройте для себя секреты, которые сделали Ред Булл легендой в индустрии энергетических напитков. Не пропустите шанс узнать, как правильно использовать маркетинг, чтобы завоевать рынок!
00:00 История Red Bull
01:54 Искатель приключений
03:51 Тайский напиток
It all started neither in an office nor with a boardroom, nor even with an idea bank. The history of Red Bull traces its roots to a trip to Thailand by an ordinary marketer named Dietrich Matischitz. He was working at BLNK, a toothpaste manufacturer, and was traveling across Asia promoting its products in new markets. It was on one of these trips that he encountered a phenomenon that would change not only his life but also impact an entire industry. After a long flight and jet lag, Matischitz was suffering from extreme fatigue and couldn’t concentrate . One of the local drivers, noticing his condition, suggested he try a strange Thai drink called Crating Ding. It was a sweet and highly stimulating liquid that workers and drivers drank to stay awake at the wheel. Surprisingly, after a few sips, Matischitz felt alert and focused. He realized he was holding in his hands not just a drink, but a potentially global product. It was a pivotal moment. As a seasoned marketer, Dietrich immediately grasped the essence. There was nothing like it in the West. Neither Coca-Cola nor Pepsi offered pure energy. The idea of transforming a functional drink for workers into a stylish product for young people, athletes, and students began to take shape at that moment. Unbeknownst to him, the driver had given him the spark that would later fuel a multibillion-dollar business. Inspired, the Mateschist began actively exploring the Thai market. He found the drink’s manufacturer—yes, TC Pharmaceuticals, founded by Yuviidia, a local businessman of Chinese descent. Instead of simply copying the idea, the Mateschist proposed a partnership. He invested his personal funds and received the right to adapt the product to European tastes and standards. It was one of the most unconventional, yet far-sighted, moves in marketing history. But before the idea became an empire, Dietrich would have to overcome an incredible amount of doubt, ridicule, and skepticism. However, the first step had already been taken, and the next would be no less unexpected and personal—from marketer to adventurer. At the time of his fateful meeting with the Thai energy drink, Mateschetz was over 40. He already had a stable career, a comfortable salary, and could have easily continued down the safe corporate path. But everything changed. Something clicked inside him. He realized he wanted not just to promote other people’s products, but to create his own—not some abstract products, but something that reflected his lifestyle and philosophy. Dietrich had always been an informal and somewhat reserved person. He hated ties, adored skiing and surfing, and avoided publicity and corporate formality. He was drawn to freedom, to nature, to genuine emotions. It’s no surprise that a drink associated with a surge of energy and a challenge to boundaries became his chance to prove himself. He invested not only money in the project; he invested himself in it. Together with Chaovidi, they founded Red Bull JMBX. Each owned 49% of the company, with his son Cheleo holding the remaining 2%. Mateschitz was given complete freedom to adapt the brand and promote it in the West. This wasn’t just a business alliance; it was a trust built on intuition. After all, the idea of offering a sweet, carbonated energy drink to Europeans in small cans sounded like pure madness. Dietrich began developing a completely new approach. He decided to change the flavor, make the drink less cloying, and add carbonation. At the same time, he began to think about creating a brand that wouldn’t just sell liquid, but evoke emotion. Hence the logo with two bulls. The idea of wings, the signature silver-and-blue design, and the slogan that would later become familiar to millions. Mateschitz began to live this idea. He quit his job, isolated himself from the noise, and focused on creating not a product, but an experience. All these actions became the manifestation of a new phase in his life. He was no longer a marketer at BLK. He was becoming the architect of a new category in the beverage market. But to start selling, he needed to take the biggest step: launch Red Bull on the real market. And then something amazing happened. How did a Thai drink become a new market? Before launching in Europe, Matesch faced a bureaucratic wall. In the mid-1980s, energy drinks as a category simply didn’t exist in the European Union. To introduce the product to the market, it was necessary to pass sanitary inspections. Certification and proof that the ingredients pose no health risk. This was despite the fact that the can contained caffeine, taurine, and B vitamins—a cocktail that raised numerous questions among experts. Many officials viewed Red Bull with suspicion. They couldn’t figure out how to classify the product. It wasn’t a soda, not a medicine, not a dietary supplement. It took years to break through all the barriers. But Mateschetz was stubborn. He didn’t just submit applications; he hired scientists, funded research, and created a scientific basis for a product the market hadn’t yet seen. He literally invented the category from scratch. In parallel, he worked on branding. Instead of going through large retailers, Red Bull began with targeted distribution at parties, nightclubs, students, and extreme sports enthusiasts. The idea was simple: create demand where energy is needed. At first, the company gave away free drinks, staged provocative events, and used branded cars shaped like cans. It was aggressive guerrilla marketing, and it worked. But there was one more crucial step. Matischitz chose Austria as his launch location, not the most obvious entry point. However, he understood the mentality, knew how to sell, and how to create buzz. The first sales began in 1987, and the reaction was mixed. Many didn’t understand what the product was, but it was precisely this misunderstanding that intrigued them. The buzz about Red Bull began, and it went viral. And then something happened that changed everything. The first students started drinking Red Bull before exams, and they told their friends that it really worked. A new market was born. But that was just the beginning. When the silver-and-blue can with bulls first appeared on Austrian shelves in 1987, the reaction was, to put it mildly, skeptical. The product looked strange, the name was incomprehensible, the taste unusual. However, it was precisely this oddity that became the beginning of something bigger. People didn’t understand what this drink was, but they wanted to try it, and this played into Mateschitz’s hands. The first batches of Red Bull were literally distributed by hand. The company team personally delivered the drinks to nightclubs, bars, and university parties. They didn’t spend money on television advertising. They were creating a local cult following. An audience began to form around the feeling of being in the know when you drink Red Bull. It wasn’t about taste; it was about style, energy, and belonging to a new generation. But the competitors behaved even more interestingly. Large manufacturers like Coca-Cola and Pepsi didn’t even take Red Bull seriously at first. They believed the project was doomed and saw neither a threat nor a prospect in energy drinks. And this gave Mateschitz a head start of several years. While the giants hesitated, he built a market that would later become a multi-billion dollar one. Sales were modest in the first months , but grew with each quarter. Surprisingly, the product’s complexity worked in its favor. Young people wanted to try new things, and Red Bull was something radically different. The slogan “Red Bull gives you wings” began to go viral. It was whispered, shouted, and scrawled on walls. It wasn’t just a statement; it was a challenge. But the real marketing breakthrough was yet to come. It happened when Red Bull began investing not in TV commercials, but in real-world experiences that made hearts beat faster. Unlike most drinks of its time, Red Bull positioned itself as a premium product from the very beginning. This decision seemed risky. A tiny can at a high price—an entirely new product with no proven benefits. But Matischitz believed that if you want to be perceived as something special, you can’t be inaccessible to everyone. Red Bull was sold at a price several times higher than the average soda. The brand didn’t offer discounts, didn’t participate in promotions, and didn’t try to compete on the shelf. It was playing a different game. Premiumness was created not only by price, but also by image. Clubs, DJs, extreme sports enthusiasts, race car drivers. Buying a can of Red Bull was like tapping into a world where people live faster, jump higher, and take more risks. This approach seemed crazy to traditional business schools, but it was precisely this that made the brand unique. While others tried to explain why their product was cheaper, Red Bull explained why it was more expensive. This changed the consumer’s mindset. You don’t choose the drink, the drink chooses you, and it worked. But it had a downside. The high price and unusual The flavor didn’t appeal to the mass market. The product couldn’t be found in every household. So the brand continued to focus on specific influencers before it became mainstream. It created events, supported crazy initiatives, and was always there where something exciting was happening. And this is precisely what would pave the way for Red Bull to tap into the brand’s most powerful weapon: extreme sports and wild, unforgettable events. The phrase “Red Bull gives you wings” became more than just a slogan. It later evolved into a cultural code. Even those who have never drunk energy drinks know it. But the creation of this slogan was far from accidental. Matischitz and his team understood that the drink shouldn’t simply sell; it should tell a story. This story had to be universal, simple, and inspiring. The key was the word “wings.” It symbolized everything Dietrich wanted to infuse into the brand: energy, freedom, movement, strength, flight. There was nothing technical about it , no emphasis on vitamins or chemical composition, just an image—light, memorable, and instantly conveying the essence. It was marketing through imagination. Instead of persuading consumers, Red Bull inspired them. The slogan first appeared in cartoon-style commercials . They were minimalist, yet so recognizable that even short clips were instantly memorable. The irony and absurdity of the situation only heightened the effect. In them, the characters literally received wings, literally and figuratively. The company appealed to all levels, from students to office workers. It’s important to understand that the wings weren’t about the physical effect of the drink. It was an emotional promise. You become more energetic, bolder, more active, and that was precisely what became the point of attraction. People weren’t just buying a drink; they were buying a transformation. It was a true masterclass in creating a myth around a product. But even this brilliant move pales in comparison to what the Matesh man had in mind next. He decided not to just talk about adventures; he started funding them in real life. This is how Red Bull entered the world of sports, not just ordinary ones, but the most dangerous and spectacular. Dietrich Matschitz realized something crucial. You can’t just sell a drink; you have to sell a lifestyle. And this image perfectly matched the world of extreme sports. People jumping off cliffs, flying wingsuits, competing in BMX and rally. These aren’t just athletes. They’re modern-day heroes, pushing the boundaries of what’s possible. And it was to them that Red Bull first reached. In the early 1990s, the brand began sponsoring local events: snowboarding, skateboarding, mountain biking. These weren’t major competitions. More often than not, they were get-togethers where young people performed crazy tricks while DJs pumped out music. For Red Bull, this was the perfect format: lively, authentic, memorable. The presence of the drink among these people meant it belonged. Over time, Red Bull began not just sponsoring, but creating its own competitions. One of the first major events was Red Bull Flugk, a competition where participants built homemade flying machines and jumped from a platform into the water. It was both crazy and fun, and perfectly captured the spirit of the brand. People came not for the drink, but for the show. But ultimately, it was Red Bull that everyone remembered. Then came collaborations with racers, freestylers, and skydivers. Red Bull became a symbol of risk and drive. Every athlete partnering with the brand received more than just money; they received a platform, an audience, and recognition. In return, the brand received unique content and real-life stories that were impossible to fake. It wasn’t a sponsor, it was a partner. Thus, Red Bull became a global phenomenon in extreme sports culture. But Matischitz wanted more. He wasn’t content with supporting individual events. His ambitions now extended to the world’s most prestigious arenas. And the first step toward this was the purchase of a Formula 1 team. In 2004, Red Bull made a move that astonished even those who had followed the company for a long time. They bought the Jaguar Racing team, which was on the verge of bankruptcy, and turned it into Red Bull Racing. To many, this seemed absurd. How could the Energetika brand participate in elite motor racing? But Mateshit was once again thinking not in terms of market share, but in terms of influence. The following year, Red Bull also acquired another team, Minardi, and renamed it Toro Rosso. It was a strategic move. The first One team was supposed to compete for victories, the other to develop young drivers. This wasn’t just a business; it was an entire ecosystem within racing. And at its core was the Red Bull philosophy of speed, risk, and breakthrough. Initially, Red Bull Racing didn’t show outstanding results, but the team didn’t give up. They invested in technology, hired top engineers, and by 2010, they had achieved their first championship title with young Sebastian Vettel. It was a triumph and proof that the drink brand could compete on equal terms with Ferrari and Mercedes. But the key wasn’t just victories. Red Bull relied on media. They filmed documentaries, published behind-the-scenes footage, and emphasized the drivers’ personalities. It wasn’t just a team; it was a show. Formula 1 became a showcase through which Red Bull demonstrated: “We don’t just sponsor sport, we live at its core.” And as it turned out, this was only part of the overall strategy, because soon Red Bull would support not only motorsports but absolutely any form of adrenaline and speed, even if it meant jumping off the edge of the stratosphere. This phrase, once uttered by Matesch, became the philosophy of the entire company. Red Bull truly ceased to be just a drink. It was a symbol. When a person bought a can, they received a piece of a vast world: extreme sports, energy, drive, freedom. No one bought Red Bull to quench their thirst. They drank it to make a fortune. That’s why the company’s marketing was always based on actions, not promises. While competitors bought advertising, Red Bull created events. Instead of telling how the product worked, it showed how people wearing its logo did the impossible. It was an inverted approach. First the emotion, then the product. Matesch fundamentally rejected classic formats. For a long time, the company didn’t have a Google-style central office, no open financial reports, and no traditional PR department. Everything was built on the energy within, on people who shared a passion. And this model worked. Red Bull didn’t create customers, but fans. Every extreme sportsman, every team, every event, every story— a brick in the building of its global image. People associated Red Bull with the real thing, with risk, with achievement. Not because they were convinced, but because they felt it. And it was brilliant. But behind this glossy image lay another important component. Red Bull began expanding globally, and each market demanded a unique approach, its own strategy, its own heroes. After its success in Austria, Red Bull began to conquer Europe. First Germany, then the UK, Italy, France. But the real breakthrough came when the drink entered the US market. It was a colossal challenge. Huge competition, strict regulations, consumers spoiled for choice. But it was there that Red Bull demonstrated its mastery of adaptation. In America, the brand used a small-to-large approach. First, it was student campuses, clubs, and gyms. They worked through the community, not mass media. The drink spread slowly but surely. It became part of a lifestyle, especially among those seeking energy without caffeine or stimulation without sugar. TBL wasn’t sold in supermarkets; it became part of everyday life. At the same time, the brand began to expand into Asia, Latin America, America, and Australia. In each country, Red Bull adapted. Some emphasized sports, others music, and still others street culture. But the core philosophy of wings remained the same. And the same mechanism worked everywhere. You don’t buy a drink, you buy the feeling of flight. With its thousandth customer, Red Bull became a global brand. Present in over 100 countries, billions of cans sold annually, hundreds of projects. But the brand didn’t blur; it maintained a clear line. And this was only possible because at the helm was a man who never chased mass appeal. He built a micro-community where everyone felt special. But with expansion came challenges, especially in the form of criticism, bans, and scandals that could have destroyed any other brand. But not Red Bull. As Red Bull’s popularity grew, so did public scrutiny. Energy drinks became the subject of debate on television, in scientific circles, and among politicians. The main criticism came from the drink’s ingredients, particularly caffeine, taurine, and glucuronolactone. Critics claimed they could harm the heart, especially when combined with Alcohol, which became a popular practice among young people. A number of countries imposed restrictions or outright bans on the sale of Red Bull. For example, in France, the drink was banned for almost a decade, and in Norway and Denmark, it was sold only in pharmacies for a long time. This could have been met with panic or aggressive defense, but Mateschitz’s team took a different approach. They used scandals as a catalyst for interest. Instead of refutations, they funded independent research. Instead of litigation, they engaged in dialogue with regulators. And most importantly, they remained visible. Red Bull emphasized: “We are an alternative, we are different.” This made the drink a symbol of protest against the boring and safe. The ban only fueled interest, turning the can into a forbidden fruit. Moreover, the brand emphasized an active lifestyle, distancing itself from its association with alcoholic cocktails. It invested in sports, ran healthy campaigns, and sponsored youth initiatives. Thus, the image of a dangerous drink was transformed into one of drive and discipline. The brand remained bold, but not destructive. Red Bull turned criticism into a marketing asset. And when the media tired of discussing the harm, the public was already discussing how their athlete had accomplished the impossible. One such event was an expedition that literally went beyond the planet. Red Bull made history not only as a beverage manufacturer, but also as the main organizer of the most insane projects in human history. And the pinnacle of this was Red Bull Stratos, the jump of Austrian skydiver Felix Baumgartner from the stratosphere. In 2012, from an altitude of almost 25 miles, he dove into freefall , broke the speed of sound, and landed safely on Earth, setting several world records. The project was more than five years in the making. It wasn’t just a show; it was a blend of science, engineering, and madness. Red Bull invested tens of millions of dollars in the capsule’s creation, in working with NASA, in the medical team, and in broadcasting the event worldwide. On the day of the jump, tens of millions of people watched the broadcast. No one else had done anything like it. It was an absolute media triumph, and that was just one of many projects. Red Bull organized the Red Bull Clipo Diing, a diving competition from forty-five-foot cliffs, taking place in the most picturesque and dangerous places on the planet. They launched motorcyclists onto the roofs of skyscrapers, staged mountain bike races in mines, staged drone battles, and much more. The idea was one: to make reality so captivating that it became advertising itself. Each such project garnered millions of views, generated headlines, and elevated the brand to the level of a cultural phenomenon. People stopped seeing Red Bull as a drink. They saw it as a curator of the insane, the impossible, the real. But none of this was born from the marketing department. The main initiator remained Mateschetz himself. And who is he really? Dietrich Mateschetz was anything but a classic billionaire. He rarely gave interviews, rarely appeared at public events, was not active on social media, and avoided grandeur. Yet, he was one of the most influential people in sports, media, and business. This paradox made him an almost mythical figure. He was born in Austria in 1944 to teachers. He studied trade and marketing and worked at Jacobs and Blendx. Before joining Red Bull, he was a workaholic but also a loner. He spent a lot of time in the Alps, diving, and reading scientific literature. Outwardly calm, even slow-moving, he was inwardly obsessed with details and strategy. He was involved in all the company’s key decisions, from can design to athlete selection, from slogans to music festivals. Everything went through him. His office was in a mountain retreat, and his management style was built on complete trust in the team. He didn’t build an empire in the classic sense; he created an ecosystem where every project was an extension of his personality. At the same time, Matischitz invested almost nothing in philanthropy in the traditional sense. His approach was different. He created opportunities. He supported talented athletes, donated funds for research, and built media platforms. But all this wasn’t for PR, but for the cause. For a long time, his name wasn’t associated with Red Bull in the public eye, and that was a conscious choice. This man kept his shadow at bay while the brand shone. His ambitions weren’t limited to beverages and sports alone. He was building an entire sports and media empire, spanning not just dozens, but hundreds of projects. Red Bull began with extreme sports, but soon moved on to more mainstream and organized sports, especially football. In 2005, the company acquired the Austrian football club SV Austria Salzburg, renamed it Red Bull Salzburg, and completely redesigned it to suit its standards. A new logo, colors, style, and games. The club became the brand’s showcase. Then came acquisitions in Germany, Airbnb Leipzig, Brazil’s Red Bull Braganno, and the USA’s New York Red Bulls. All the clubs shared a common philosophy: youth, energy, aggressive play, and development. Red Bull created a unified system of scouting, training, and coaching. This wasn’t just branding; it was a true football network with a global mission. But the company didn’t stop there. There were investments in Red Bull Münn hockey, esports, Red Bull OG in Dota, cycling, and winter sports. All emphasized youth, movement, and pushing the limits . Red Bull didn’t just sponsor; it built academies, training facilities, arenas, and tournaments. All of this became part of the brand’s infrastructure. This model allowed Red Bull to cultivate its stars, both in football and extreme sports. Young athletes started at local events, progressed to the academy, and then to the global stage. And all of this was under the wing of the brand, which became more than just a logo for them , but a true springboard. But this empire had another wing: media. And this is where a completely new chapter in the company’s history began. Red Bull decided not to depend on other media. It created its own. This is how Red Bull Media House was born, a division that produces content in dozens of formats, from documentaries and series to magazines, podcasts, and live broadcasts. The brand realized that if you want to tell your stories right, you have to tell them yourself. Red Bull TV became its flagship channel, a 24/7 platform broadcasting extreme sports, interviews, lifestyle shows, and documentaries. Available online via apps and smart TVs, it became an alternative to ESPN and Discovery. The entire Red Bull philosophy was fully realized here. In addition to sports, Red Bull also began supporting music culture. Through the Red Bull Music Academy, they held lectures, festivals, recordings, and events around the world. Legendary club events with DJs and producers took place from Tokyo to New York. The brand supported young artists, created studios, and curated releases. This was an investment not in the product, but in the audience. Media became an integral part of the business. All major events, from diving to football matches, were filmed in a format that could be instantly shared, trended, and integrated into the cultural mainstream. And all this under one brand. Red Bull has more content than some television networks. Each commercial is a marketing manifesto, but without a single word of advertising. But all of this was only possible thanks to a system: strategy, structure, approach. Matishitz had his own lessons, which are now taught in business schools.