More than any other sport, football is a visual game. It’s a sport made for eyes, not ears. Its dimensions fit perfectly within a TV screen, and that’s been true since about 1958. The marriage of NFL and TV is Ozzie and Harriett. (Lookemup, kids.)
So how come fans react so caustically to certain TV announcers who broadcast NFL games?
I rarely listen intently to a televised football game. Every year, I get a kick out of the attention paid the guys who’ll be in the Super booth. I mean, unless your team is in the Bowl, how much attention are you paying to what the TV guys say?
You’re standing around at a party, you’re socializing, you’re scarfing the nachos and guarding the bar. Maybe it’s a little noisy. The game is on. . . over there. The Super Bowl is the least listened-to football game of the year. And that’s assuming you’re not watching at a bar somewhere.
The commercials get more of your attention.
Amirite?
People ask me what I think of so-and-so. I tell them I have no idea. I watch football. I don’t listen to it. Unless my team is playing, I barely listen to who’s calling the game. And since I have no team — and haven’t since that little tyrant/twit Danny Snyder starting ruining the Redskins a couple decades ago — I always barely listen.
I listen to baseball. To a lesser extent, I listen to basketball. I can tell you what I think of A-Rod in the booth (Boo) and Gus Johnson in March (yay) and that Bill Raftery would be vaudeville if college basketball did vaudeville, which it does not, thus I don’t care for Bill Raftery.
Onions that, Raf. OK?
Because I am odd, I do both listen to and watch golf. Unless they’re Gary McCord (insufferable), golf broadcasters are all just vanilla covered in polyester wrapped in whispers. I did like Johnny Miller, because he did something besides genuflect. Other than Johnny, golf guys just don’t register.
(I should probably have something snarky to say about Jim Nantz and his mancrush on the Masters. But I’m always at the toonamint, not watching on TV and, honestly, I share Jimbo’s weird love of azaleas and loblolly pine branches dancing in the swirling, capricious winds.)
So. . . Joe Buck.
Youse hate this guy. Everyone hates this guy. No love for Jack’s son.
“Joe Buck should plant a forest to replace all the oxygen he wastes while broadcasting.’’ This from a reader responding to a column on Buck in The Athletic.
Gee, that seems kind of harsh.
To me, Buck is indistinguishable from most everyone else. I like Al Michaels. Who doesn’t? Al’s smart, impossibly smooth and knows when not to talk. He doesn’t interfere with my watching. That’s really all I ask.
I want an analyst who can tell me something, make me laugh or both. Both is almost unheard of. Peyton Manning could do that, but he’s not inclined to put in the time required to be in a TV booth 17 times a year.
Troy Aikman does neither. He’s easy to listen to, if you’re all-in on casual watching. But he never tells me something I don’t know already. Collinsworth does inform me. And CC puts in the study time.
I did listen enough to know that the MNF booth guys last year were simply the worst I’d ever heard. Aikman and Buck are better. You might not agree. Especially about Buck.
What’s so bad about Buck? Why do fans listen so intently to a game meant for watching?
Oh, yeah, you hate Tony Romo, too. Why?
Please tell me.
Now, then. . .
GEORGE REMUS, PART DEUX. . . The bourbon gangster has my attention, thanks to a bio of him I’m reading. I learned this yesterday, on Page 97 of Bob Batchelor’s terrific book titled The Bourbon King:
The highest-ever ranking government official who owned the last name Daugherty was a world-class crook. Harry Daugherty was the attorney general in the Harding administration. He used his position to accept non-stop cash from Remus, in exchange for a guarantee that the Justice Department would never prosecute the biggest booze runner in the country:
A man with Daugherty’s appetites — fine food and drink and a parade of much younger showgirls and loose women — demanded a large influx of cash. As soon as Daugherty got his appointment, he was open for business. Daugherty promptly used the power of his office to become an accomplished lawbreaker. Money filled his heart’s greatest desire.
You go, Harry, you dog. Don’t let the charred oak barrel bash you on your way out.
THE ESPN SIMULATOR SAYS WHAT? it says Bills 37, Bengals 9. Ha, yeah. Bengals gonna lose by four touchdowns at home. Sign me up for that.
The simulator also says The Men rally to beat Baltimore a week from Sunday to wrap up the North and get home-field the following week, when they play the Ravens again.
Your pal Joe B allows this about Monday night: “This feels like an AFC Championship Game to me. I was just thinking about the game, and I got that rush of nerves and excitement that I would typically get the week of the Super Bowl.’’
THE 12-TEAM CFP IS GONNA BE GREAT. . . RIGHT?
I s’pose. But a couple issues bug me.
Does a 12-team tournament mean more teams get a title shot? Yeah, theoretically. I mean if you think Tulane or Kansas State will suddenly become legit contenders. What’s more likely to happen is what almost always happens in March Madness: A few 1st-round shockers yield to the onslaught of blue-blood talent. Twelve teams doesn’t mean greater opportunity. It just means Alabama, Georgia, Ohio State and Clemson need somebody to play.
There is no mention of the abuse that 20-year-old bodies will take on behalf of money and entertainment. If you’re anything less than a top-4 seed, if you play in the title game, you’re adding three games to your season that is already 12-13 games. Does anyone care that 20-year-olds will play 16 football games? If you lop off a regular-season game or two to compensate, it’ll very likely be a game featuring a far lesser team that would get a sizeable guarantee for the pounding it would take. Those lesser places rely on that guarantee.
And there is this, from The Athletic:
On-campus quarterfinals would also create a more reasonable December for the fan bases of top teams, which will be asked to travel three times in three weeks across the country if the quarters, semis and title game are all at neutral sites.
Bowl executives continue to push for meaningful games to take place at bowl sites because they insist they’re better equipped to handle quick turnarounds, block off enough hotel rooms and handle other logistical concerns. Some have even used the recent winter storm and its freezing temperatures as a reason to avoid on-campus games in, say, Big Ten country.
Home games would make it easier for fans. They’d also give an additional advantage to teams who don’t need one.
What say you?
ALREADY OLD. I think as soon as I finish this magnificent, enlightening and award-winning ML, I’m going to sprint to the other end of the house, stop and fold my arms up close to my chin. Just like the cool guys in the NFL do.
They look like Cossacks, you know? I wanna look like a Cossack.
Just because I write a couple hundred TMLs a year, and have for almost 18 years, doesn’t mean I shouldn’t glorify myself for writing another one. And another and another.
Dear Defensive Players of the NF of L: Now that we’ve determined that doing our jobs is worthy of mass self-celebration, can we at least come up with a new way to honor ourselves? The Cossack is old already. Thank you.
TUNE O’ THE DAY. . . Not even a one-hit wonder, because it wasn’t a hit. But this tune, by someone named John Eddie, strikes a lot of sweet notes. Tell me if you’ve actually ever heard it.
If you like your current Remus book, try "Ghosts of Eden Park". I found it to be quite a page turner. I even went as far as creating a personal sight seeing tour of all the buildings and places in town that were mentioned in the book.
In the 1930s, my mom and other neighborhood kids used to explore and play around inside George Remus' abandoned Price Hill mansion. She said it was beautiful marble from floor to ceiling. She added that some of the older, braver boys would explore a tunnel that extended from the basement level. Rumor was it was an escape route for Remus. Just in case. She says her mother and other neighbors were welcomed to the Remus' swimming pool.
As for football announcers, Al Michaels and Gus Johnson are favorites. For golf, I was sorry to see Gary Koch and Roger Maltbie get booted from NBC. Koch was always so well prepared and Maltbie was like a comfortable old shoe. I value that.
Cossacks take note: "Self praise is no praise." - Groucho Marx
Regarding on-field celebrations and self-congratulations, coach Paul Brown put it plainly: "Act like you've been there before."