By Timothy T. Tater, Editor and Chief Spud
The Sweet Potato
Sometimes I find myself inexplicably enraged—not by trivial concerns like climate collapse or geopolitical chaos, but by the truly critical issues that plague our civilization. Specifically: why does every sports broadcaster now require a catchphrase like they’re auditioning for a superhero franchise?
As someone who has dedicated countless hours to athletic spectatorship (and who better to alert the public to this travesty than a couch potato), I’ve identified a crisis of epidemic proportions. When ESPN pioneered the revolutionary art of showing games that already happened and we first heard “From way downtown…Bang!” it was a cultural watershed moment—right up there with the printing press and penicillin. Chris Berman’s nickname shtick was admirably stupid in that special way only the ’90s could produce.
Here’s the thing, though: that was thirty years ago. The Berlin Wall was still warm.
Today’s broadcasters apparently emerged from the womb clutching media studies degrees and vision boards covered with their future catchphrases written in glitter pen. Some genuinely believe they’ve transcended mere mortals and become more important than the actual teams—you know, the people doing the thing we’re supposedly watching. Spoiler alert: you’re not. Harry Caray was the last announcer who could legitimately main-character himself, and that’s only because the Cubs were so cosmically terrible that listening to a drunk guy mangle names was the entertainment.
My humble demands for the broadcasting industrial complex are as follows:
1. Call. The. Game. Revolutionary concept, I know.
2. Use the team’s complete, government-issued name. Is adding “County” to a school really going to give you carpal tunnel? It’s literally one word. I’ve seen you fit seventeen sponsors into a single sentence. You can handle “County.”
3. Show up prepared. If you haven’t memorized the roster by now or still can’t pronounce “Wojciechowski,” you either have early-onset amnesia or the work ethic of a tenured philosophy professor. Phoning it in ISN’T an option—and yes, I’m using capital letters ironically because this is Very Serious Business.
4. If you’re bored in the booth, might I suggest a fulfilling career in actuarial science? Sports exist for entertainment—a brief escape from the soul-crushing reality of our dystopian hellscape. But sure, make it about you and your personal brand journey.
5. Stop calling games over before they’re actually over. The schadenfreude of watching a cocky announcer eat crow when their “guaranteed” outcome implodes is literally the only joy I have left. Don’t rob me of this.
6. Before you critique a player’s split-second decision, ask yourself: Have you performed under that pressure? With others watching? No? Then perhaps consider that your perspective from the booth—might be slightly less valid than you think.
7. Oh, and one more thing…some voices seem to be acutely unaware that it is highly uncooth to give the losing score first in a game. For instance, “the Stars are down 1-3 with 10 minutes to play in the game.” I’ll give you credit if you are continually updating the score and time, but NEVER, EVER give the losing score first. Talk about your listener’s mind having to go into a math problem that they didnt want to do.
In conclusion, I believe these reasonable requests will save sports broadcasting. You’re welcome for my service.