da realbet： Commentators. I have a theory about them – I think Kenneth Wolstenholme has got a lot to answer for, and it’s his fault that I dislike so many of the current crop.
da doce： Wolstenholme’s “they think it’s all over” quote from the 1966 World Cup final was a spur of the moment comment that gained international fame, book deals, was sampled in hit records and even got its own TV show.
Wolstenholme had previously been established as the BBC’s authoritative voice of football and went on to cover the climax of five World Cup championships and the finals of 16 European Cups and 23 FA Cup finals besides dozens of internationals.
He was proud that he had produced a timeless piece of broadcasting and coined a phrase that has entered English folklore. But this was tinged with a hint of regret that the words had overshadowed the rest of a hugely successful and ground-breaking career (though he used the phrase for title of his memoirs, so wasn’t too upset, clearly).
Over on ITV, Hugh Johns was the “the other voice” of the 1966 World Cup final. At the same moment, to a much smaller audience, Mr Johns was concentrating more on the striker’s hat-trick as he told ITV viewers: “Here’s Hurst, he might make it three. He has! He has… so that’s it. That is IT!”
I like Johns’ commentary. It does the job for me. The problem is no one remembers his words. And now every commentator wants not his Johns moment, but his Wolstenholme moment. It seems sometimes that every commentator wants fame, and a legacy of a piece of beautiful prose at a key moment in a key match. And no Clive Tyldesley, anything to do with “that night in Barcelona” doesn’t count. So rather than comment on what’s happening on the pitch, commentaries have become a competition to see who can say the most dramatic, prose-soaked comment. I am still scarred by a Portsmouth match commentated on by Peter Drury at the end of last season, where Drury felt it apt to continuously refer to Portsmouth’s financial problems by quoting Shakespeare. It was the best of times, and it was the worst of times, you see!
Oh hang on, that’s Dickens.
But as Piquione volleyed in the second goal, I thought to myself that it was a far, far better thing that he did, than I have ever done; and I couldn’t help think that it was a far, far better rest that he went to than I have ever known.
Drury would have worded it so much better though.
“What can Portsmouth do in this second half? If football be the food of love, play on. To sleep, perchance, to dream, for the Pompey fans have discovered that all that glitters is not gold. O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me, and Utaka’s missed an absolute sitter there! Lord, what fools these mortals be. Thoughts, Craig Burley?”
“Well, youse got to say he should’ve buried that, the lad’s gonna be disappointed not to hit the target.”
Continued on Page TWO
A new breed of commentators emerged a few years ago, each of whom seemed to have their own “angle”. Commentating well was deemed not to be sufficient anymore.
For Drury this meant prose and intellectual nonsense, Alan Green’s was to criticise everything, and Jonathan Pearce’s “angle” was to SHOUT VERY LOUDLY about everything. Because even a throw in early in the game had its own little frisson.
I prefer him now that he has calmed down – another blogger said he now sounds suicidal, but he doesn’t irritate me anymore, so he must be doing something right.
Now I have no problem with commentators doing research before a match – they should be doing, it’s their job, not that this has concerned studio pundits or many co-commentators. What I can’t stand is the need to crowbar statistics in, and more than that, the need to crowbar puns and catchphrases that they have been working on, as if they have just completed a six-week tabloid headline writing course.
Jonathan Pearce has said that 90% of his job is research, but only 2% of that will be used during a match. That’s how it should be. Less is more.
It wasn’t all this way – it’s easy to get nostalgic, but Davies, the old Motson or Wolstenholme did not attract the ire that their modern counterparts do. Or maybe that is just a result of modern media whereby anyone (even me!), can broadcast their views to anyone who will listen. All you had in the old days was Barry Took on Points of View (I’ve lost half of you now).
And John Motson used to be good, before he became a celebrity (fancy a fridge magnet with Motty quotes on? It’s on Amazon if you do). Now he is the uncle on Xmas day sat in the corner dozing after one sherry too many. I don’t know if it’s just me, but his Match of the Day reports seem to have been recorded after the event. Tyldesley is nothing more than a sycophant, mainly for Manchester United. Armed with a box of tissues, each of his match commentaries is nothing more than an exercise in idol worship, whatever the score or however United performed. This is not an anti-United comment, it’s anti-Tyldesley. He supported United home and away in the 70’s, and you cannot just throw off your allegiances, football does not work like that, his prejudice is plain for all to hear.
And then there’s Alan Green. Now it’s very fashionable to have a go at Alan Green, so that’s what I am going to do. Where do I start on this odious, vile, ego-driven man?
Now he has his supporters of course, who argue quite simply that he is one of the few commentators to “say it as it is”. I am not sure what they mean by this, but presumably, looking at the evidence, they mean he whinges, moans and criticises everything before him. So in other words, they think football is rubbish. Well he certainly seems to think so – if he does enjoy the beautiful game, he certainly hides it well (hypocritical maybe as all I am doing is moaning too, but if I was paid to watch football I’d cheer up in no time).
At the Champions League final, for which he was being paid handsomely to watch, his first thought was to moan about how awful the commentary position was.
For an England international, within three minutes of the match kicking off he had moaned about the weather (sorry we couldn’t sort that out for you Alan), the new England kit, banners around the edge of the ground (he doesn’t like them, like most things), and two attempted tackles/passes by England players.
I have never known a man suck the joy out of a football match like Alan Green does. I have never known a commentator so full of himself, with such a monstrous ego.
And all this would be ok, or at least more acceptable, if he was prepared to argue his corner, to stand up for what he believed in. But if you have had the misfortune of listening to 606 when he is host, you will know that criticism of anything he has said is not allowed. He repeats outright lies and when questioned on them claims “it’s only my opinion”. Lies are not just opinions. There is a difference. One such example I can recall involved Nicklas Bendtner, where Green spent much of the show slagging off quotes attributed to Bendtner where he seemingly exaggerated his own talents. Shame Green had ignored Bendtner’s subsequent press release that week saying he had been totally misquoted.
This is a man who in his tedious Belfast Telegraph articles has stated he doesn’t like Manchester City (and thus shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near the ground, in my opinion), spent a year slagging off everything their Brazilian players did, and staggeringly criticized Sam Allardyce for the size of his ego!
Pot, meet kettle.
Continued on Page THREE
It’s all subjective of course, but even I know there are good commentators. Generally those that stick to describing the action, give you a rounded-picture of the match, and keep matters in perspective. I’ve no doubt it is not an easy job, but it can be done well. What I don’t need to know, because I don’t care, is what the commentator thinks about Manchester City’s wealth, banners around grounds, Mexican waves, football kits, the weather, managers, the price of tuna in supermarkets or the quality of hamburgers at Villa Park. I’ll form my own opinions, thanks. You’re there to describe the match Alan, so why not give it a go? And whilst you’re at it, go and read your employer’s charter, especially the bit on impartiality.
As for co-commentators, the less said the better. Usually they tend to be those who have played the game, so bearing this in mind, where has all their experience and expertise gone? Mark Lawrenson’s approach seems to be to nothing more than to tear open a few Xmas crackers and memorise the jokes. Putting the pun in punditry but not bothering to try.
The comments follow the same road with co-commentators – I’ve seen them given, he’ll be disappointed with that, the manager will want more from them in the second half, blah blah blah…churlish perhaps to criticise such comments as they have ninety minutes to cover, but a bit more depth would be nice.
Other sports fans are spoiled with their analysis. Why can cricket, Formula 1 and rugby for example enjoy such great commentary and analysis but football can’t?
And do we even need co-commentators? They appear to add nothing. I recall a match last season when a co-commentator had taken ill and the main commentator (may have been Motson, not sure), had to do the match on his own – and the whole commentary was better for it. Not only was the co-commentator not missed at all, but the main commentator seemed to perform better when flying solo. It seems many commentating teams have little chemistry or rapport, and just seem to drag each other down. And as for David Pleat – some say he brings much tactical analysis to the table, most of which must have been on nights I had the telly turned off, but irrelevant of that, how can a co-commentator be employed who CANNOT PRONOUNCE PLAYERS’ NAMES?!
But despite Green, radio seems to have got it right more than television. Radio 5’s football coverage is generally excellent, and it is TV that seems to struggle. With radio commentary, you are required to stick to the script and describe what is happening, as you are the eyes. With TV, commentators seem to think that silence is evil, and must not be allowed. I couldn’t disagree more. You could turn the sound off, but then you’d lose crowd noise too.
So I would argue that the memorable moments, on and off the pitch are spontaneous moments that cannot be rehearsed and planned in advance. Going back to that glorious day, and it got me wondering how Drury would have covered that 1966 World Cup Final finale.
“And here comes Hurst, sprinting up the pitch. Could this be it? Geoff Hurst, ask not what England will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man! Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and the success of liberty! Goal!”
As for Alan Green?
Green: “Some people are on the pitch. Oh this is disgusting, absolute disgrace. Ban them for life, no one wants to see this, animals, what are they thinking, shame on you, shame on you! I am embarrassed to be British, this is shocking, are they looking for a fight, they might be, idiots, absolute idiots, oh dear oh dear, ruined the game for me, shocking.”
Jimmy Armfield: “Hurst has scored by the way, 4-2, hat trick for him, England have won the World Cup!”
Green: “Have they? Oh but it’s been overshadowed for me, it really has…oh, and now everyone’s doing a Mexican wave, they really should be shot.”
Hugh Johns had the right idea.
Written By Howard Hockin