There have been a lot of vicarious sports thrills around my house lately. I have written about all manner of spectator sports over the past year or so, but I have failed to mention just how important sportscasters are in my world. There aren't a lot of them that are any good at all, so it bears mentioning when there are some good ones.
Dan Jenkins, in "Life Its Ownself" (the sequel to "Semi-Tough") uses Billy Clyde Puckett to elucidate his notions about what makes a good sports commentator. Billy Clyde is a "color commentator," specifically, which means he's there to fill in those quiet moments in those professional sports - of which there are dozens in your average NFL game. He's going to tell us all about what it's like to be a player. He's our connection with the men on the field. Billy Clyde's boss tells him to repeat the score every five minutes, answer questions from the play-by-play guy, and otherwise keep his mouth shut.
There are plenty of guys who don't want to follow those simple directions. They want to ramble on and on about their glory days, and how the guys playing today don't hit as hard or care as much or dance in the endzone the way they used to. Truth is, it used to take one guy to tell you what was happening out on the field - that was the play-by-play guy. Now we often get two color commentators in the booth, and one or two sideline reporters. Too much information. I need to know the score, and why the star running back isn't on the field. It's the playful banter in the broadcast booth that drives me nuts. What are they wearing under those pads? I don't want to know, thanks. This does not constitute analysis. Sticking a microphone in the face of a coach on the way off the field at halftime is not investigative reporting. "We're going to have to score more points in the second half" is not incisive or necessary information.
On Dec. 20, 1980, NBC aired the New York Jets at the Miami Dolphins. The Jets were 3-12 entering the game and the Dolphins were 8-7. (The Jets won 24-17). Since the game had no playoff implications, NBC decided to let the sounds from the stands and the PA announcer serve as the sole audio. No players were miked. Dick Enberg set the scene for viewers at the beginning of each quarter and then viewers were taken to the stadium. Once the game started, there was no "Oh my!" from Dick. No report from the locker room from Susie. Just the game. Okay - maybe the score every few minutes. And what's up with that guy in the rainbow afro anyway?
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