When I first inquired about writing for the Daily this semester I was told that one of the most important parts of the column was to have my own voice. Now one would think that having a title reflecting that voice would be key. But if you take a glance to the top of this page all you see is a kid who needed a haircut two weeks ago and the puzzling title, "Hot Peas and Butter."
The title comes from one of the video games that is in heavy rotation at my apartment: NBA Street 2. If you're not familiar with the game it's basically street ball on steroids, a mix between that classic video game, "NBA Jam," and the AND1 tour. To add to the insanity is Bobito Garcia, who announces the game. Think of a male version of Rosie Perez, but annoying in a good way. His commentary consists of random one-liners such as "banana lukies" and, you guessed it, "Hot Peas and Butter." But it works because his craziness perfectly matches the game.
Mr. Garcia reminds me of just how important the announcer is to the sporting event. It's not an easy job, as the announcer has to provide the listener with information and entertainment in a fluid and captivating manner. Not only do announcers have to cater to the emotions of each individual sport, but they also must find the perfect words for that timeless moment. One of the most important parts of announcing is the call of a great sports play, because it will forever be tied with the moment.
Any Red Sox fan still feels his lunch coming up when he hears Vin Scully's classic voice go up three octaves while saying, "Little roller up first ... it's behind the bag." And we all feel a little patriotic after Al Michaels yells out "Do you believe in miracles? Yes!" The type of emotion that these calls invoke, even in people who weren't even born when the moments happen, epitomizes the power the announcer has.
But what makes a good announcer? It's not one specific type of person, but a mix of different personalities that can find its own voice. The announcing booth usually consists of two people, the color man and the play-by-play guy. The first is usually a former player or manager who provides those nuggets of information and stories of the good old days to pass the time.
The play-by-play guy is usually a polished media professional, not a former athlete, who calls the actual game and provides much of the transition. While there is much debate over the cream of the crop, here are some of my picks for the best:
As far as play-by-play guys are concerned, Bob Costas gets my vote. Costas is the ultimate professional, a man who always seems to have the right thing to say and the perfect composure for the job.
He walks the fine line of regulating the broadcast while making sure that he's always secondary to the game. But what puts him above other greats such as Marv Albert, Mike Tirico, and Jack Buck is his versatility. Costas is just as comfortable calling the seventh game of the World Series as he is the 100 meter dash in the Olympics.
The color man can be divided into two groups. The first is the type of guy who begins studying a week before an astronomy exam. The second is the type of guy who maybe goes to class once a week before the exam. My ultimate "first guy" is Hubie Brown.
There is no one that prepares harder for games or has a higher basketball IQ than Hubie. This self-proclaimed "basketballaholic" understands even the smallest nuances of the game and can translate them so well that I always leave games feeling like I slept at a Holiday Inn last night.
The second category of color men is, for me, defined by Bob Uecker. Uecker's work in "Major League I and II" would be enough to get him honorable mention here, but the former catcher gets the Purple Heart for persevering through 32 years of Brewers games.
He mixes criticism with a razor sharp wit that has produced some of the greatest one-liners in broadcasting history. These include his foolproof advice on how to catch a knuckleball. Just "wait until it stops rolling."
Below these respective giants, announcers range from excellent to horrible. While a poor announcer can't ruin a game, he can make it uncomfortable. Everyone has sat through a game with a bad announcer and gotten that uneasy feeling in his stomach. Maybe it's not as bad as your junior prom experience, but it definitely is awkward.
The guest announcer is always an especially dangerous thing because at best he is very green and at worst he is just plain bad. Two good examples are Lou Pinella and Mike Piazza, additions to the baseball broadcasting lineup for the playoffs this year. Sweet Lou shows some flashes and might be alright after a season or two, but right now it's a struggle of dead air and obvious comments that make even Tim McCarver look respectable. And as for Mike? Well, being a Mets fan, I can honestly say that as an announcer, he's a great hitter.
Then there are the exceptions, the ones who are so bad they are good. Basically these are the old timers. These are the guys that have been around for so long that they are clearly playing with less than a full deck. It starts with mixing up a name here and there, and eventually turns into a full blown case of broadcasting Alzheimer's that makes you pretty sure the man at the mike has no idea where he is half the time.
You either love them, like Harry Caray, or love to hate them, like Brent Musberger, but either way it's always entertaining to hear what is going to come out of their mouths next.
And at the end of the day that is what announcing is all about: entertainment. No matter the style of the announcer, as long he adds instead of takes away, he's done a good job. Hopefully if you made it this far down the column you also found it mildly entertaining. Well that, or the crossword puzzle was already done.
