Rules of Commentary

Last night I was feeling a bit under the weather, and I would have been happy to hit the rack as early as 10:00 (which is unheard of for me). However, a buddy had come over to watch the Rose Bowl, and that kept me up until 1-ish. But boy am I glad he was over! That was one whale of a ballgame. It didn't especially matter to me who won (Texas did, in case you missed it), but I was glad to see such a barnburner. However, at one point, my buddy was obviously curious as to why I would yell at the commentators and producers in my TV. He clearly thinks they can't hear me. I'm sure they couldn't if we were watching his 13-incher. But he doesn't know that one of the benefits of having a Big Ass HDTV is that the commentators can hear what the TV owner says to them. The network execs and producers, too. (If you're one of the people mentioned here, you should try it. It's good times.)

But that's not the point right now. What is the point is that sports commentators often have me griping during games, and it's usually about very fixable mistakes. So I'm sorry for another venting session here, but please allow me to get off my chest the weight of what I consider a few rules of color commentary/production in TV sports.

• If you tell me what's in second, please tell me who's in first.
  
  Somehow I left this out when I first wrote this post, and it was really what got me going on this whole thing. Oops. I'm not really getting into an Abbott and Costello thing here. The point is that commentators are always saying things like, "This team has the second-highest scoring offense in the nation," or "That player is second in the conference in rebounding." What does that make you wonder? Who the hell is leading the way? It's so frustrating to have my curiosity piqued like that and not have it satisified. Don't be such a tease. You know the answer, so share it. If you don't know it, you can bet that whoever handed you that stat in the first place obviously knows the answer. If you just ask the question on air, the stats guy will give you the answer tout-de-friggin'-suite. Don't settle for "It says here ..." Once you're down to third place, I don't mind not listing the front-runners, but don't leave me hanging when there's only one more person or team to name.
  
  
• If you're going to tell me about how good a team's offense is, you must at least mention their defense, too.
  
  The first half of the Rose Bowl seemed like a bit of defensive struggle. But that may only be because Dan Fouts said it was. Texas led 16 - 10 at the half, which isn't necessarily a low scoring game. Fouts kept saying that both teams averaged 50+ points per game on offense for the season. It's possible that he was dumbfounded by that number because it is ludicrous, but he needed to get over it because it's his job. Once he got over it, he needed to tell me how many points per game they allowed on defense. It would give me an idea as to whether both teams normally play good D, meaning that the relatively low scores might be expected. Besides, in pretty much any sport, it doesn't do a lot of good to score a lot of points if you let your opponent score more. Somebody make this happen.
  
  
• Don't try to stir up controversy when you look at a replay.
  
  If you think the refs missed a call when you see it live, say so. If you were wrong when you look at the replay, say so. If they were, just say they missed it. They will sometimes. But if the replay is inconclusive, say that, too. I don't hear people on TV say often enough, "Well, you just can't tell from the replay. The call should stand." The game can be exciting enough without you creating a controversy where none exists.
  
  
• Put your expertise into play at some point.
  
  Presumably, there is a reason you were hired to do color commentary. There are a lot of rules and a lot of strategies in most sports. I'm hoping your background puts you in a position to have uncommon insight into some of them. If not, learn some. One thing you might do is point out some subtlety of a rule or strategy that most people don't know. We could all become more knowledgeable fans this way.
  
  
• Talk about the game. This game.
  
  This is for Dickie V. more than anyone else. If I'm watching Kentucky play Michigan State, I don't want to hear about Duke. Or UNC, or Indiana (well, maybe IU) or Kansas or Gonzaga or Duke or Creighton or friggin' Duke. I don't want to hear about where you had dinner or how you stayed at a Holiday Inn Express last night, either. Unfortunately, you always talk about these things loudly, probably to hear yourself over the roar of all the people around the country yelling at you through their Big Ass HDTV's for you to TALK ABOUT THE GAME!
  
  
• Learn how to pronounce the players' names.
  
  I know this can be hard, and I know there are a lot of names that you say in the course of a week, much less a season. I know you do many games, and I know some of them involve teams that don't get on TV very often. But you should learn how to pronounce each and every one of their names correctly. It's disrespectful when you don't, and it drives that team's fans batty.
  
  
• Don't pretend to be something you're not or know things you don't.
  
  You are a color commentator. If you were a super genius coach, you'd be coaching. Don't claim the coach is making a huge mistake. You sound like a blow-hard when you do that. (Much like I sound as I write this - damn.) Maybe the coach knows something you don't, like that one of his players was puking in the locker room at halftime or tweaked an ankle on the last possession or has a look in his eye that tells the coach no way the player misses the big shot. It's fine to say that you don't know why a coach doesn't try this, that it might work, but saying the coach is flat wrong is disrespectful. Billy Packer, please read that paragraph again. Print it out and ask someone to explain it to you if necessary.
  
  
• Highlight stats instead of filtering them.
  
  This is more of a basketball thing. Right before the start of the second half, the TV screen typically fills with a grid of team stats from the first half so the wonks can talk about them. That's a good thing, but they are forever just showing about 4 - 5 lines of numbers, and it changes all the time to show what they want to highlight. Well, how about highlighting the numbers you want me to pay attention to without filtering out the ones I might be interested in that you don't have anything to say about. Drives me batty. Use a smaller font for the non-highlighted ones if you must, but put them on the screen somewhere. Don't assume I don't care about them. I love them. The same goes for a player's stat line. If you're showing me that Marco Killingsworth has contributed positively by scoring 18 points on 7-8 shooting (but only 5-9 from the free throw line) with 6 rebounds, you might as well put up there that he has 5 turnovers, too (3 on inexplicably dropped balls in the first 1:42 of the game). It gives me a more complete picture of his game.
  
  
• Always, always show me a point guard's turnovers with his assists.
  
  You might think this should get lumped in with the above stuff, but I think it gets a line of it's own. Under no circumstances should you expect me to be impressed that a point guard averages 8.3 assists per game if he has more than 8.3 turnovers. Really, those assist numbers without the turnovers are useless for a point guard. Hell, show them for everybody. You can make arguments that they aren't necessary for players at other positions, but I'm not buying it (see point above about wanting complete stat lines). At least get it right for the point guards, though.

I'm totally out of steam. I know there's more that Lawton and I have discussed over the years, but I haven't collaborated on this with him before posting it. Feel free to add your own in the comments. If you have a Big Ass HDTV, you can just holler at it. I'm sure the networks will hear you.

Back in the Saddle

Without really intending to, I turned my Christmas vacation from work into a Christmas vacation from the blog. As this glorious vacation peters out (tee hee -- I said "peters"), I thought I would wish you all a happy new year. I hope the last couple of weeks have been quite pleasant for you despite not having the random ramblings of a dude with a 3-letter nickname to divert you.

I have all these grandiose ideas of things to write to kick off the new year, from a highlight reel of 2005 to a by the numbers look at the past annum to a frank disclosure of the goals for the new year (assuming I can come up with some). But those things all seem like they'll take quite a bit of time AND effort, making them less than likely.

So instead, let me just wish you a happy new year for now. May 2006 bring you a full complement of things that don't suck.

High Def Confusion

I know that huge amounts of technology, standards, and terminology that come along with these fancy new HDTV's can be seriously confusing. And I realize that setting the things up correctly is not always the most obvious thing to do. However, it's not rocket surgery by any stretch of the imagination, and I find this article a bit scary. If you live in one of the country's estimated 20 million homes with HDTV sets, please listen up, as I have an important tip for you: if the picture you see isn't ridiculously better than what you were used to from your old TV, you're not watching a program in HD. I don't care what it says at the start of the show.

That approximate half of HD sets in the country aren't able to watch HD programs on their fancy sets reminds me of a funny (if perhaps statistically inaccurate) aphorism: half of the population is dumber than the average American. I wish all of us happy and smart holiday seasons.

Excuse me while I vent

OK, I realize that this here web thing is all about the dissemination of information, preferably quickly, and I realize that its fluid and immediate nature tends to mean that people aren't often able to edit (or have edited) things they write as much as, say, a novel or a term paper might be. Those of you who pay attention to user comments here on the Chronicles will know that I'm no champion editor, either, as my big bro has had to correct some of my more glaring boo-boos from time to time. So I think we can all stand to be more forgiving of grammar mistakes and typos on the Internet than we might otherwise be inclined to be. Besides, people who make a big deal of complaining about and/or correcting the grammar of others generally -- not to put too fine a point on it -- annoy the ass out of people.

However, I can't keep quiet about this one any longer or I might explode, and that would be quite messy. There's one recurring mistake in particular that I've been noticing at an ever-increasing rate that has me wondering if it's a mistake or just an example of widespread ignorance. I used to see it every now and then and just chalk it up to the whole lack of editing I mentioned above. However, I can't recall the last time I saw it used correctly, and it's used way more than I would have thought. What I'm talking about here is the difference between "compliment" and "complement." The former has to do with goodness (praise, good wishes, etc.). The latter has to do with completeness. (There are other meanings, but they aren't the ones that are confused.) I'm sure you know this. You're very smart. But I wish that you would inform the people who write things I read on the web (read: sportswriters), because they don't have a clue.

The most recent example (that made me write this post) was talking some smack about the Pittsburgh Steelers' punter, Chris Gardocki. It said, "He entered Week 14 last in the AFC in net punting average — which is also no complement to the team’s punt-coverage team." I think it's no compliment to anyone. Not to Gardocki, not to the punt-coverage team, and certainly not to the writer. Come to think of it, not to me, either, as I just can't let things go. I think I have a problem.

Apparently, I'm not the only one who has noticed this general state of confusion.

OK. I'm done. Thanks for letting me vent. You may now return to your normal, hopefully less picayune lives.

Just Let It Go

I know you love your cellphone. I mean, who doesn't really? In this very space, I've waxed rhapsodic (or at least enthusiastic) about the things that cell phones can do. However, one has to wonder just how valuable the thing really is. I know it has all your phone numbers in it, along with your pictures and text messages and endlessly downloaded ringtones. Still, isn't there a place where you draw the line to say, "It's just not worth it -- I'll get a new phone?" Isn't there? I'm thinking this guy should consider revisiting where he draws that line.