Madonna redefines herself and—more importantly—what it means to turn 50.

It seems a bit beyond belief, doesn't it?

On the eve of her 50th birthday this summer, the Material Girl, the author of Sex, and the perpetrator of countless minor social scandals, Madonna, released her eleventh studio album—"Hard Candy"—which hits store and online shelves April 29.

Hardly needed, but a bit of perspective seems in order. Madonna launched her professional pop career in 1983 with a self-titled album, over-the-top sensuality, and a dynamic stage presence. An interesting case study to say the least, but hers was hardly a unique story at the time.

While many of her contemporaries have faded from the scene, Madonna remains. The reason is pretty simple, really. The Madonna of 1983 is not the Madonna of 1987. Or the Madonna of 1994. Or the Madonna of 2000. Or the Madonna of 2008. Whereas other artists have stayed relevant by not dramatically changing (thus guaranteeing a stable audience), the pop world is a different beast entirely.  Madonna understands that world—and like her (or her new album) or not—she remains as successful and as relevant as ever.

But all of this would be nothing but an interesting bit of MTV trivia would it not be for what Madonna has come to represent. On August 16, Madonna will turn 50 years old. And at 50, she retains an enviable balance of hip, emotional maturity, and rooted confidence most of her modern contemporaries sorely lack.

Again, interesting, but not in and of itself unique.

What truly makes Madonna important, from a marketer's perspective, is not her onstage kisses, her wild outfits, or her young child. It is that she has come to symbolize a fundamentally changing demographic truth. Madonna is a powerful image of the new 50.

It was only a generation ago that turning 50 meant the beginning of the end. The end of a career. The end of physical attractiveness. And the end of personal relevance. We jokingly celebrated turning 50 with black balloons and the tacit acknowledgment that the birthday recipient was heading toward the twilight of life.

And it was hard to blame partygoers. Average life expectancy in the United States at the turn of the 20th century was just under 50 years old. By 1950, the number had climbed to just over 67. Today, we are fast approaching 80. In fact, one of the fastest growing populations of Americans is centagenarians - people living up to and past the age of 100.

Our public perception is only beginning to catch up.

Instead of asking at age 50, "How do I wind down my life?" people are beginning to ask, "What do I want for the second half of my life!" Today, 50 means "midlife" in the true sense of the word. Fifty is a new beginning.

And again, like her or not, Madonna is a symbol for what 50 can be. And that symbol is forcing a whole new set of questions. Better questions. What does it mean to be vibrant and active? What does it mean to be sexual? What does it mean to be a parent?

And it scares most marketers to death.

Oh sure, if you ask them, most marketers claim to have seen it coming. They even spout the same statistics regarding activity levels and life expectancy. Then in the same breath they write commercials such as the intolerable piece of garbage for Colonial Penn Life Insurance. (You have likely seen it: A man in his 50s wakes up in the middle of the night worrying about his life insurance. He and his wife calmly review the rational benefits of such a policy, and decide in the end to get the "peace of mind" only Colonial Penn's policy can bring. This commercial would have been modestly appropriate in 1980. It is exceeding out of touch today.)

But wait, you say. We have seen an explosion in marketing to "older" Americans. Massive marketing campaigns for all manner of pharmaceuticals. Record-breaking numbers of 50-somethings traveling.  The democratization of cosmetic surgery.

True. And with few exceptions, searingly boring ad work. Campaigns for Baby Boomers rarely strike with the same creative energy that "youth" campaigns exude.

What I don't think our collective marketing department has figured out just yet is how to handle the "new 50." How to handle people who have reached a stage of maturity and financial wealth that finally allows them to live the life they could not fully understand, nor afford, in their 20s and 30s. This is a group that will likely become more active, more physical, and more daring as they age. Not less.

That means sightseeing bus tours are out. Adventure hikes are in. Water aerobics is out. Taekwondo is in. Woodcarving is out. Wii is in.

It is the paradox of mature and wild living in the same body.

It is the Madonna paradox. And we had better get used to it.

The Green Bay Packers Have a Favre-Sized Image Problem

After 17 seasons, two Super Bowls, one championship team, and just about every passing record worth having, iconic Green Bay Packers quarterback Brett Favre is hanging it up.

But Favre's retirement leaves much more than a void on the depth chart, it leaves a mess of the Green Bay Packer's brand.

And it is not like you couldn't see it coming.

Sports marketing, in the past 20 years (arguably since Michael Jordan), has strategically shifted its focus from team marketing to player marketing. 

On its surface, the reasons behind this move are clear: Player hype puts "seats in seats" as they say in the business. It leads to big dollar sponsorships (which are good for both team revenue/positioning as well as the player's bank roll). It draws media attention: sports news types know their audience loves a good drama. It means big money in jerseys, caps, jackets, and other lucrative merchandising opportunities. And finally, as U.S. sports leagues go global, bringing in Yao Ming and Ichiro Suzuki opens the door to new (and very profitable) markets in Asia. Modern sports video games sell on player star power, not team pride.

But the biggest driver in the last 10 years has been the growth of fantasy sports. Especially fantasy football. If you were under the impression that this was the sole domain of bored, young to middle-aged men, you are very mistaken. Fantasy sports are big business. And they are all player-driven.

All that said, this seismic shift in the marketing of sports is not without risk.

The Green Bay Packers had it pretty good with Brett Favre. He never tried to run a parking cop down with his Lexus (Randy Moss). He never ran a dog fighting organization (Michael Vick). And he never was caught up in a murder investigation (Ray Lewis).

But all of the "off-field" risks aside—as well as the obvious risks that a player's on-field performance could be a bust—the biggest problem is what happens to the team’s brand (and its financial performance) when a player leaves.

The Bulls found out when Michael Jordan left. The Cowboys found out when Aikman and Smith left. The Twins found out when Puckett and Hrbek left.

After all this time, you would think the billionaires that run these teams would have figured out a better answer.

The key question is this: Should "X's and O's" be the only consideration when making playing time decisions? Should an Aaron Rogers (Favre's heir-apparent) be given more time to "introduce himself" and build an image with Green Bay fans even before Brett Favre decides to call it quits? Does it make financial sense and brand sense for the Packers to make this transition earlier?

While this might sound apocryphal to sports purists, this is business. Certainly, I can understand the coach's argument of playing the best people you have for as long as you have them. But that old saw may not be a good business decision.

[As a quick aside, teams have done this before. Joe Montana was forced out of San Francisco to make way for Steve Young, and consequently, a much-extended marketing and team run.]

But when we get back to the core question—whether the marketing of players, and not teams, is necessarily the right strategy—it begs the bigger question: Is this "player-centric" switch worth it in the long run? Should teams begin the process of moving players more into the background and focusing on the team image itself? Is that better for the long-term brand (and financial health) of the organization?

A few teams have done it. (Or at least tried.) But once they land a big player, they tend to revert to the much easier player-marketing crutch.

Now that the player-marketing genie is out of the bottle, I am not sure he can be put back in.

And that's too bad for Green Bay. Favre's departure will hurt on and off the field.