Two years ago, a buddy of mine and I came upon the "Ask a Dolphin" section on the Miami Dolphins' Web site. Expecting terribly banal commentary from the players themselves, we followed the links and found ourselves reading some Q&A with tight end Randy McMichael. Luckily for us, we got what we came for. Check out this gem of a response to a question regarding his will to make the Pro Bowl: "The only thing I really want to do is help this team win. But at the same time, I want to have a big year. I want to go out to Hawaii. That's my ultimate goal."
It is rare that one is forced to reconsider the true meaning of the words "only" and "ultimate," but I guess that is a power exclusive to Randy McMichael. The point of this nugget of mental density is that it is a shining example of today's sports dialogue. One often finds many equally incoherent and contradictory statements from players, coaches and even the commentators, who are supposed to dissect and analyze the game in a way the average fan cannot.
Sports commentary and dialogue have become so diluted with meaningless stock phrases and interviews that it's practically painful to follow along. From an area of entertainment that is so big, particularly in its manifestation on television, talk on sports offers us too much kitsch and surprisingly little substance. I'm not asking for prose at the level of the Federalist Papers or self-psychoanalysis - after all, many professional athletes didn't graduate from college. I only ask for something that is not sickeningly familiar.
Let me begin with the interactions between athletes and commentators. Interviews with athletes are, generally speaking, a joke. Who was the last sideline reporter that got anything useful out of a coach or player in a halftime interview? Interviews are no longer about teasing out sound bytes that are insightful or interesting, but rather aim at getting responses that simply make sense, or vaguely refer to players' emotions so that the viewer at home feels connected. After Team USA's loss to Korea in the World Baseball Classic last Tuesday, third baseman Mark Teixeira astutely noted that, "any time you lose, there are things you could have done better." No kidding.
Most athlete interviews aren't actually entertaining or gripping, but just satisfy some minimum standard of English and logic. It's as if a food chain's proud selling point is that their product ends that annoying hunger in your belly by taking up the empty space. (Come to think of it, Taco Bell does exactly this. Looks like we're in deeper trouble than I thought.) Where is the smarmy, snide, honest athlete? The rehearsed culture of much of sports journalism beats him down.
Interviews aside, the analysis by professional play-by-play and color commentators is sub-par and often way too sensational. How often have you heard an announcer suggest that a certain player "is happier to be on the field than anybody," (Brett Favre gets this one a lot), or that there is "no question" that the wrong call has been made despite arguable replays? Sunday Night Football commentator Joe Theismann can't help but declare something earth-shattering with every play; but don't you love his voice? New York Yankees radio personality John Sterling is so eager to spout his home run call that on any deep fly ball, he'll launch into his shtick and neglects to give any information about the play at hand (too bad the ball was caught 15 feet in front of the warning track, though). And yet, both of these men have recently received contract extensions and increased scope of coverage.
Unfortunately, this trend seems to be getting worse as the pre-packaged, grab-n-go, speed-over-quality modernism continues to percolate all aspects of our culture. Luckily, some athletes and coaches are fighting back for us and saying what they think. Boston Red Sox pitcher David Wells, who's never been afraid to say what's on his mind, is one such "renegade." Just this week he gave Major League Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig a verbal spanking, saying that "nobody likes him" and suggesting that he Googles himself regularly. And New York Knicks Head Coach Larry Brown is currently transcending the usual tit-for-tat media battles between players and coaches by calling out Stephon "Starbury" Marbury. Brown insisted that he "never left a team in worse shape than (he) got it. Not once ... think about me and think about (Marbury). All right?" Now that's some hot fire. Who knows if that's good for the team, but it sure is refreshing for fans.
Admittedly, honesty and frankness are mere factors in a messy professional calculus. One can't be sure when these players and commentators learned to suppress their inner voices, but it's probably when they realized that any deviance from the norm might cost them their salaries. If that's the case, then we've got a long way to climb out of this hole. Until then, watch games with the volume off, send your least favorite commentators nasty letters and keep fighting the good fight.
